Before the Storm

by Claire Ashgrove

  When the water reached his underside, I turned off the faucet and stepped back just as he thrust his head beneath the surface, pushed off with his feet, and zoomed to the opposite end of the tub like he was chasing some fish and intent on an evening meal.

  Shaking my head in amusement, I left him to his play and exited the bathroom. Outside, confronted by the stack of books once again, I stared at the useless pile on the floor. Bit by bit, the events of the night plucked at my awareness. It was after midnight. Kale hadn’t returned. I had no idea of knowing whether his counter initiative had proven successful, or whether he was laying in one of those cots above.

  Part of me wanted to bolt upstairs and make sure he wasn’t in the healing ward. The other part just wanted to shove it all into a corner of my mind where I couldn’t ever access the thoughts again.

  I let out a heavy sigh. He might really be in trouble.

  I shouldn’t care. He’d turned my entire world upside down, not the least of which involved sticking me with my fine-feathered friend.

  And yet…I did. He’d given me magic, even if it was small, even if it did come with consequences I didn’t care for. I had really used the power that lived in my blood. Commanded it. Succeeded in my desired outcome. That kind of gift—there just aren’t words. It was freeing and liberating, as well as hopeful and amazing.

  Maybe I ought to check on him.

  But what if he was in one of those narrow beds? What if his blood soaked the sheets?

  With a frustrated grumble, I covered my face with my hands. I was not going to care, damn it. I simply wasn’t going to allow concern to filter into my feelings.

  A muted knock at my door jerked my head up and snapped my attention to the entry. My traitorous heart skipped three beats, I swear, before I managed to remember I was annoyed with Kale for leaving me in the predicament with the duckling.

  If he was in the hall, he better have a damned good explanation.

  I stalked across the room and jerked open the door. Spring stood outside.

  She tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze searching my face. In that hesitant gesture, I heard everything: something had happened to Kale.

  “Where is he?” I asked with more worry than I’d intended to reveal.

  She gripped my elbow with long, delicate fingers. “He’ll be fine, Halle.”

  Twisting out of her reach, I shook my head. “Not what I asked. Where is he? Up there with the others?” Before she could respond, I darted around her.

  “Halle—”

  My temper short-circuited. For God’s sake, I wasn’t some fragile flower. “Is he in that room?” I snapped.

  “Yes.” Three strides brought her even with me and she flattened a hand against my shoulder. “Stop, please.”

  I stopped, but silently began counting to ten to prevent a dozen different curses from slipping free.

  “He will be fine, I’m certain. He asked me to help you with…a duck?” Her brow bunched with confusion as her voice lilted in question.

  Kale had stuck me with the duck to guarantee I couldn’t just waltz out of here in the morning. He’d deliberately manipulated me into staying—I was absolutely positive. I was equally positive that if he’d sent Spring to help me undo the spell, Kale wasn’t nearly as certain about the fine part as she was. My feet started moving before I consciously gave them permission. I don’t know why, but I had to see him.

  “Halle, you can’t just barge in when he doesn’t want to see you.”

  “The hell I can’t!” As the words tumbled free, I broke into a jog. Ignoring her declaration that he didn’t want me present, I hit the staircase and double-timed it up to the healing ward.

  When I reached the landing, my heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear my labored breath, much less the footsteps that followed my ascent. As I reached for the doorknob, Spring grabbed it first. She twisted in front of me, effectively barring my entrance. Tawny brown eyes held my furious scowl. “He isn’t in any shape to have visitors.”

  Tough shit. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, refusing to respond, staring her down, equally as determined to enter as she was to keep me out. I told myself I had things to settle with Kale. No way was he checking out without my getting that opportunity. The logic was easier to accept than the truth that I was worried. Really worried.

  Exactly why I made it habit to not get close to people.

  “Halle, there’s nothing you can do.” Spring finally broke the silence, her voice low and respectful. “Go on and get some rest. I’m sure he’ll be down to see you in the morning.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and arched an eyebrow.

  “Really,” she emphasized.

  Long stalemated silence stretched between us. After a good handful of minutes, I blew out a hard breath and dropped my arms. “Look, Spring, I’ve got a pretty good impression of you. I’d like to keep it. Step aside. I’m going to see Kale, regardless of what you or anyone else says.”

  “He said it, Halle. He didn’t want you up here.”

  “Especially him.” I chortled. “I don’t give two figs what he has to say about much of anything right now.” Gesturing at the doorknob, I repeated, “Step aside, Spring.”

  The flash of annoyance in her eyes warned me I wasn’t dealing with a regular woman. This one had power. If she really wanted to, she could probably knock me down the stairs with a lift of her pinkie, and I ought not push her too far if I valued my neck. And yet…I couldn’t back down. Something deep inside me refused to do so.

  Thank God, she didn’t stand her ground. She took one barely discernable sideways step, giving me room to grab the knob, twist, and shove hard. Whether she’d intended to do so or not, I couldn’t say, and I didn’t care. The healing ward stretched before me, quieter than it had been earlier. Not nearly as frantic. No bustling healers scrambling from cot to cot.

  I scanned the beds and spied one set apart from the others, tucked into a much darker corner of the room. At my side, I felt Spring’s presence. A short nod from her answered my questioning gaze, and slowly, hesitantly, I walked to that unattended bed.

  Kale lay beneath stark white linens, eyes closed and motionless. The handsome face that tormented me throughout the day now held a grey pallor that made my stomach twist. It wasn’t just that he was pale or that he looked ill. The ashen hue was…unnatural. Like death had literally kissed him and left behind its mark.

  A shudder rolled down my spine. Warning me off. Warding me away.

  Ignoring it, I lowered a hip to the narrow mattress and reached for his hand. His fingers were cold against mine. Almost as if they’d been soaked in ice. Instinctively, I rubbed my palm over his knuckles, trying to generate warmth. “Kale?” I asked quietly.

  “The chill will wear off,” Spring murmured beside me. “It’s part of the defensive spell he’s used—his body is completely attuned to healing.”

  I glanced at her, hating the worry that poured through my veins and unable to hide the concern from my voice. “He’ll be okay?”

  Her nod held just enough hesitation that I knew she wasn’t entirely convinced. And in that instant, all the need for human companionship I’d locked away broke free. I suddenly, desperately, didn’t want to lose Kale Norwood, my teacher, my tormenter, my new friend. My fingers tightened around his.

  “Kale, if you die like this, I’m hunting down your ghost,” I scolded. “You don’t get to do that shit. Not when you have magic to teach me.”

  Spring’s hand fell reassuringly to my shoulder. “I really ought to take you back. There’s nothing we can do except wait.”

  She was right, of course. I certainly didn’t know how to heal wounds, and even if I did, I didn’t know what he might be suffering from. Judging by the lack of attendants hovering around him, it was clear those who were trained for this sort of thing agreed with Spring as well. But there was one thing they were missi
ng, something that only someone who’s been living on the street, homeless, could understand.

  It sucked to suffer alone.

  I shook my head at Spring. “You go on. I’ll stay a while longer.”

  Ten

  Several hours later, the twitching of Kale’s fingers against mine jerked me out of sleep. I snapped upright in the uncomfortable chair, blinking my eyes to clear my bleary vision. He clenched my hand again, infinitesimally, and I bent toward him as his eyes fluttered open.

  Our gazes held, and then one corner of his mouth made a lazy attempt at a smile before he closed his eyes once more, and his hand went limp in mine. The entire exchange lasted all of three seconds. But it was long enough to convince me he was out of danger.

  Standing, I let go of his hand and scrubbed at my eyes. He might have just seen me sitting there, but I had no intention of hanging around and letting him think I’d worried all night long. For my own protection, it was better to have him believe I’d just checked in and happened to catch him while he was waking up. Letting people know I cared…yeah, so not going down that path of hurt again.

  What time was it anyway?

  My stomach turned a hard knot, reminding me that all I’d had to eat was tasteless health snacks. Time to find some real food. And check on the duck I’d left in the bathtub. Ugh. There was probably water all over the place.

  I stretched and started for the door, only to find Spring reading in the chair beside the exit. She glanced up as I neared.

  “Anything you want me to tell him?”

  Great. There were witnesses to my hawking over the patient. I frowned at Kale’s sleeping form. “Yeah. That I’m going to fire my magic teacher if he doesn’t get his ass up.”

  “Halle, if it’s lessons you’re wanting—”

  I strode out the door before she could finish. Seriously, was she dense?

  Halfway up the stairs to the meeting hall, my rudeness sank in. Guilt tugged at me—she was the only other person to have been nice to me. Again, I’d forgotten I was surrounded by people who could probably do more damage to me than any handgun. Maybe I better make an effort not to piss them all off. Being nice for a few days wouldn’t hurt me. It wasn’t like I had to make friends.

  My stomach growled again.

  Maybe I’d consider being nice after I ate. Chances were high I’d fail with only wheat bread in my belly.

  I pushed open the meeting hall door and let myself through. Stoney silence greeted me, interrupted only by a low, electric hum. The distinct sound of a refrigerator.

  Bingo!

  I followed the noise through the long hall of iridescent light pillars into a wide alcove at the far end. Several small tables sat along the smooth stone walls, much like a break room. It made sense—if they’d held meetings here, they would have a place for snacks. Which meant that hum wasn’t a fridge but a vending machine. Hot damn! Chocolate, here I come!

  I peeked around the corner and spied the fluorescent glow of a Coke machine sitting beside a snack machine. I nearly ran to salvation, fishing in my back pocket for the three bucks I kept on-hand for emergencies. I could taste the sugar, the rich flavor of milk chocolate melting on my tongue. The sweet creamy center of a Ho-Ho. Even better, a Twinkie.

  I stopped short and stared. Tray after tray of everything but spanned before me. Unsalted almonds, fruit and nut granola bars, pistachios—and not even the green kind!—raisins. Blech! And the Coke machine? It had everything—drinking water, sparkling water, distilled, and natural spring.

  Resisting the overpowering urge to ram my boot into the whirring machine, I let out a groan. “What is wrong with these people?”

  Behind me, chair legs scraped against the floor. I whipped around with a gasp. How the hell had I missed someone sitting there?

  “Halle,” Gerard said with a smile. “Is something the matter?”

  Not just someone—the someone who was singularly responsible for the colossal screw-up of my day. I narrowed my gaze. “Do you have something against sugar?”

  He blinked, clearly clueless.

  I stuffed a thumb at the machines behind me. “That says Coke. And I seem to be missing the option for chocolate.”

  A soft chuckle escaped him. “Natural foods aid with your personal power.”

  “Bullshit,” I managed to disguise with a cough. I cleared my throat and frowned harder. “Last I knew, sugar was natural.”

  “And highly addictive.” He broke out in a full grin. “But the good news is, there’s no charge for the snacks. Just pick a button.”

  Wonderful. They couldn’t even convince their own kind to buy the crap behind the glass. I gave him a skeptic snort, which I figured was more polite than anything I might let fall off my tongue.

  “Or you could try the mess hall. Breakfast started about twenty minutes ago.”

  “And I suppose I’ll find granola and yogurt there.”

  His eyes sparkled as he held in a laugh. “Yes.”

  “Perfect.” Can you say sarcasm?

  “Though most of us prefer old fashioned bacon and eggs, pancakes, waffles, and coffee.”

  “Wait. Did you just say waffles?” Things were starting to perk up. “Whipped cream and fruit?”

  “Fruit, but I’m afraid no whipped cream.”

  Damn. Though two out of three was pretty lucky. I pivoted to head for strawberries and syrup. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  “No, thank you,” he replied, much more seriously. “For keeping an eye on my son through the night. He’ll be touched you cared.”

  Oh, hell. Someone else knew about my all-night vigil with Kale. At this rate, the entire camarilla would be leaping to assumptions. I shook my head. “It’s not like that. I came here to learn magic, and my tutor is indisposed. I just wanted an idea when my lessons would start.” I slid through the entryway. “You know—in case I needed to go home and come back after a while.”

  “Of course,” he called after me.

  Now why in the world did he sound doubtful?

  Never mind—greater things were at stake. My cramping stomach and my desperate need for maple syrup.

  And a duck that needed to return to its pond.

  I’d deal with all that later. A girl couldn’t possibly think through everything on an empty stomach.

  * * *

  It was dark when I finally got around to dealing with Kale. I’d spent most of the day mopping up my bathroom and putting serious effort—to no avail—into studying spell books. I’d managed to learn how to call a small flame to the palm of my hand, but the duck was still spotted and firmly attached to my heels. He didn’t even look twice at the duck pond when I decided to try my new magical flashlight outdoors and ventured into the corridor Kale had led me down first.

  Tufty threw a fit at the bottom of the stairs, forcing me to carry him. And the frightening howls that echoed down the long tunnel were enough to convince me that my parlor trick could wait another day or two.

  The light surrounding the pond dimmed at what I guessed was night, probably because the camarilla wasn’t preoccupied with an attack. I made the community dinner shortly after that. No one looked at me twice for having a feathered date, except Spring, who threw me an apologetic glance before inviting us both to sit beside her.

  No one mentioned Kale, and I didn’t ask.

  Tufty and I returned to my room; he to his bathtub, and I threw in the towel on studying and turned on the television. I was ten minutes into my favorite comedy when a knock sounded on my door.

  Assuming it was Spring—who had promised to bring by another set of elementary spell books—I trudged to the door absently and opened it with one eye riveted on the sitcom.

  “Hey, you.”

  Kale’s low warm voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I whipped around to face him so fast my feet tangled and I had to catch myself on the doorframe. Dear Lord—no one rattled me the way this guy did.

  “Hey,” I managed,
hoping I didn’t betray the unadulterated streak of joy that shot through me at the sight of him standing in the doorway. He looked good—all cool casualness with a slightly rumpled appearance. Like he’d literally just crawled out of bed. He hadn’t; he’d changed his clothes. But he made my heart knock all the same, no matter how I wished it wouldn’t.

  For a fleeting instant, I wanted to wrap him up in a hug and tell him how glad I was to see him. But that would be foolish and overreacting. So, I stuffed my hands in my rear jeans pockets and took a step back.

  “Mind if I come in?” He glanced around like he expected me to have company.

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself. Did you bring the duck cure?”

  Kale arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t get much studying done sitting with me all night, did you?”

  What the…? Oh, someone was going to pay. Handsomely.

  I turned my back on him and wove my way to the couch. “I just stopped in this morning.”

  Kale closed the door behind him. “I might believe that if it had just been the one time I woke up to see you sitting in the chair.”

  I sat down and flipped the channel, doing my best to pretend I hadn’t heard that piece of insight. “The duck’s in the bathroom if you want to get started.”

  Clearly not taking the hint, Kale dropped a hip on the armrest, placing himself a scant breath away from my shoulder.

  Were men who’d just been more or less in the hospital supposed to smell this good? I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. I wasn’t doing this; I refused to. Getting close to people always led to me hurting. People were unreliable, no matter how much they might seem otherwise.

  Not to mention, I’d inevitably let him down by refusing to do what he expected for the camarilla. If only he could see I wasn’t capable, that I couldn’t cope with the responsibility. Heck, that I couldn’t be depended on to follow through.

  “Thank you,” he commented quietly.

  “For?”

  “Your concern.”