Dream Under the Hill (Oberon Book 8)

by P. G. Forte

  “Stop it,” Sinead said, eyes still closed. “Don’t gloat.”

  Adam felt his own eyes widen in surprise. “I-I’m not.” But he was, a little. She was reading his thoughts?

  Sinead sighed. “I don’t know why you’re surprised, Adam. You knew what you were doing out there in the trees. And, for your information, no, I do not believe strengthening and removing are at all the same thing.”

  “I’m sorry.” He thought about adding more – an explanation, an argument in his own defense, some groveling, perhaps. But what was the point? If she knew what he’d done, then there was a good chance she also knew why he’d done it. If that wasn’t good enough for her, then all the words in the world weren’t likely to change her mind.

  “You just always have to do things your own way, don’t you?” Sinead studied him thoughtfully.

  Adam said nothing. Somehow, he didn’t think she was expecting an answer.

  She closed her eyes again and sighed. “Well, whatever. I’d like to see my baby now.”

  Sinead still hadn’t moved when Adam returned with their daughter a few minutes later. He’d raided the nursery himself, and figured it would serve the staff right if the missing newborn threw them for a loop. Security here was pitiful. He was beginning to think Scout had a point about keeping a close eye on Nick. Adam didn’t plan on letting either Sinead or the baby out of his sight again for a single minute, not as long as they were here.

  Assuming, of course, that Sinead didn’t decide to throw him out again.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Sinead murmured, staring raptly at their daughter.

  Adam nodded agreement. “She looks just like her mother.”

  Sinead ran a finger over the baby’s tiny fist. “Not quite. She’s got her daddy’s smile, you know.”

  Adam frowned. “I haven’t seen her smile yet.” Neither had Sinead. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that what passed for smiles in newborns was mostly gas, anyway.

  “Well, you will,” Sinead said. “And then you’ll see that I’m right.” She glanced up at him and her chin lifted. Adam’s heart sank as he recognized the challenge in her gaze. “So, did you change her name while I was unconscious?”

  He shook his head, reproachfully. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No? You thought about it though. Didn’t you?”

  “No. I–” He stopped in surprise. Okay, so maybe he had thought about it, damn it. “But that was days ago. Before–” Before everything went wrong. Before he almost lost them both. Before he got caught. Shit. She was right. He’d been out of control. Arrogant, power happy, and he hadn’t even seen it. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  “So was I.”

  Adam stared at her. What was it she thought she’d been wrong about, he wondered. About him? About them? Or, was she talking about something else, entirely?

  “You saved her, didn’t you?”

  Adam nodded. “Yes.” And now, he only hoped he could do the same for them.

  “Thank you for that,” Sinead whispered, blinking back tears.

  “No.” Adam shook his head again. “You don’t need to thank me, Sinead. She’s my child, too.”

  Sinead smiled, a small, sardonic twist of her lips. “She’s a girl. And she’s got your grandfather’s name. What are you going to do about that, Adam?”

  “Nothing!” he insisted fiercely. “She’s my daughter. And, and she’s alive and she’s healthy and she’s here. And that’s all that matters to me.” Emotions roiled around inside him, but he had no words for the way he was feeling. In fact, he had to shut his eyes and breathe and wait for the storm to pass before he could speak at all. “Sinead–”

  She nodded, smiling more softly now. “I know. Me, too.”

  “So what do we do now?” Adam asked, still trying to process all the revelations that had hit him, hard and fast, knocking him so far off center that he felt like his equilibrium had been permanently re-set to Tilt. Things were never going to go back to the way they used to be, he’d been a fool to ever think that they could. This was a whole new ballgame now, one he’d never even heard of, and though he’d just been handed a spanking new score card, he had no idea what to make of it.

  Sinead shrugged, settling the baby more comfortably in her arms. “Now we go home, I guess. And try and figure out what it means to be a family.”

  Oh. Adam felt his muscles go weak with relief. “I-I’d like that.”

  Sinead glanced up at him again, frowning slightly. “I know there’ll be more magic, Adam. I guess I’m kind of resigned to that. But no more secrets. All right? I won’t stand for that. Or lies, either. I mean it.”

  Adam nodded. Blinking back his surprise. “I won’t. I promise. I’ve learned my lesson. Just don’t ever leave me again.”

  Sinead stared at him for a moment, as though reading his heart. Then her lips curved up again in another tiny smile. “Okay, it’s a deal. I can live with that.”

  * * *

  Lucy poked her head into her cousin’s hospital room, half expecting – half hoping – that Scout would be asleep. But no such luck.

  A shaft of light streamed in from the hallway and Scout turned shadowed eyes in Lucy’s direction. “Hey.” The surprise that lit up her face, the relief in her voice both spoke volumes. She smiled in welcome. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “You mean what am I doing up so late,” Lucy corrected, feeling weary just thinking about it. “I haven’t been to bed yet.”

  “Oh? How come?”

  Lucy sighed. It had been a long, long, terrible night. Ray’s parents had been contacted, of course. They were shocked, heartbroken, inconsolable. Meeting their eyes had to be about the toughest thing Lucy had ever been through. Then there were Cara’s problems to deal with. Her father had been nowhere to be found, which seemed to surprise no one. But Seth had begged them to get involved – to help, to do something, please! And so they had.

  They’d tracked down Cara’s aunt and convinced the annoying woman that she needed come in and sign papers so that her niece could be treated. Lucy had never been particularly fond of the girl, but just five minutes on the phone with her aunt had given her a whole new appreciation for what the poor child must have had to go through.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured. Scout didn’t need to hear about that right now, anyway. She didn’t look like her night had been a whole lot better. “So what’s up with you?”

  Scout sighed. “Did you hear about Sinead?”

  “No.” Lucy shook her head, almost afraid to ask, “What happened? Did she have the baby? Is everything okay?” Please, she prayed silently, please let them be okay. No more tragedy, not tonight.

  “It is now,” Scout said. “But they had to do a C-section, and then she wouldn’t wake up and…”

  “Oh, jeez–” Lucy buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t take any more, she really couldn’t.

  “She says she saw Nick.”

  Lucy raised her head and stared at her friend. “She what?”

  Scout nodded, her face pensive. “She says she was somewhere, on the astral plane, or something, and she saw him. She says he’s stuck there. She wants me to do something to help him.”

  “Do something,” Lucy repeated. “Okay. Like–?”

  “Oh, you know.” Scout waved her hand in an impatient gesture. “A little trance journey, a little soul retrieval.”

  Lucy smiled wryly. “Oh. Gotcha. Our usual, huh?”

  “Yeah. ‘Cause that’s always worked so well before.”

  “Well, it has worked,” Lucy felt compelled to point out. “Just not always the way we wanted it to. So, what does Marsha suggest?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t asked her yet.”

  “Haven’t asked her?” Lucy stared at her friend in surprise. “Well, why not? What are you waiting for?”

  “Well, it’s the middle of the night, for one thing,” Scout answered. “And besides... I promised Nick I wouldn’
t have anything more to do with that sort of stuff.”

  “Yeah, and so what?” It was all Lucy could do to keep from gaping. “You’re worried about his temper? Now? Girl, you’re crazy. You should be so lucky! Look, don’t worry about that shit. I’ll deal with my cousin if he gets upset. Let’s just get him back here, okay?”

  “It’s not just that. It’s... what if it doesn’t work? What if I go back on my word, and it’s all for nothing? Or–”

  “Oh, screw that. Are you telling me if the roles were reversed Nick wouldn’t do whatever it took to get you back? ‘Cause I happen to know better.”

  “I know, but...” Scout’s eyes grew large, she stared at Lucy beseechingly. “What if it doesn’t work?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper. “And, and… what if we make things worse?”

  Lucy shot a glance at her cousin. “I’m not sure things could get much worse,” she said, and hoped she was right.

  “Of course it could be worse, Lucy,” Scout snapped. “He could be dead. That’s what happened with Celeste, remember? We tried this same kind of thing on her, and look what happened. Soul retrieval – ha! Turned out all her soul wanted was to be released.”

  Lucy took a deep breath and then slowly let it out again. She knew Scout was barely hanging on as it was, clinging to whatever small pieces of hope she could find to keep herself afloat. She hated taking even that away, but what else could she do? “Look, Scout, if things don’t improve– Well, you’ll have to do something, anyway, won’t you? You know Nick wouldn’t want to linger on like this indefinitely. I think you owe this to him. If you can’t find a way to bring him back, then maybe you need to find a way to let him go.”

  * * *

  If it weren’t for her bare toes peeking out at him from the end of the cast that encased her right leg – toes that still sported the glittery peach polish that he remembered so vividly – Liam wouldn’t have recognized Cara when he found her. She was almost lost amid the bright, cluttered maze that was the emergency wing. It wasn’t as if the place was chock full of injured teens tonight, either, but her gurney had been pushed into a corner, out of the way of the ordinary ebb and flow, and there was so little of her visible.

  Just one eye, blackened, swollen. Two lips, also swollen, bruised and split. And those five toes. That was all he had to go on. Everything else was indistinct, either swaddled in blankets or wrapped in bandages.

  Oh, my God. A long, shuddery sigh escaped him, but he bit back the words that rose to his lips and stifled his groan of dismay, in case she could hear him. He doubted she was even conscious, but if she was, she probably already knew how badly she’d been hurt. It wouldn’t make her feel one bit better to know she looked bad, too.

  “Cara, sweetie, are you awake? Can you hear me?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady and light, doing his best to disguise the agony he felt just looking at her. She didn’t move, he hadn’t expected her to. And she didn’t speak, which he doubted she could. But he thought he heard her breath hitch ever so slightly, he thought he felt her attention shift, just a bit, in his direction.

  How are you feeling was too stupid a question, so he didn’t ask it. But he had to say something. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That seemed to work – it was certainly true enough. He was sorry she’d been hurt, sorry that he’d let her down, sorry that he’d scared her into running away from him when he’d only been trying to help.

  He should never have tried to bully her into leaving with him. He should have realized he’d given her no reason to trust him, or believe in him. Or to know that, if he could, he’d have protected her with his life, with his last breath, rather than let something like this ever happen. He opened his mouth to say more, and then closed it again. True though that all might be, it was useless as shit to say so at this point. Or to say any of the other meaningless platitudes that were occurring to him, for that matter.

  It’ll be okay. You’re gonna be all right. Well, he hoped that was true, but could he make that kind of promise?

  I’m going to get him for this. I’m going to find him, I’m going to make him pay, I’m going to make him dead. He could promise that, all right. But would it help her to hear it? Or would it only add to her distress?

  “I just wish you would have trusted me,” he whispered, at last. “I love you and I–” Shit. What a stupid thing to say. Meaningless, at this point. Worse than useless. But it was all the truth he had at the moment. “I love you,” he repeated, really hearing the words this time; adjusting his mind to their reality, blinking back the tears that were suddenly obscuring his vision.

  What wonderful timing he had. What a perfect, romantic moment he’d created. Not. Disgusted with himself, Liam sighed. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Cara might have sighed, just a little, too.

  He stared at her for a moment longer, feeling helpless, feeling lost. The rage and the anguish he was feeling needed an outlet. He couldn’t stand around doing nothing, he had a debt to settle.

  “Okay, look, I’m gonna go now. I have some things to take care of.” Things like tracking Gregg down and killing him. “But I’ll try and get back here later to see how you’re doing.” If he doesn’t kill me, first. If I don’t end up in jail. “You just try and rest now, you hear me? I want you to get well.”

  He bent closer, planning to brush the gentlest kiss he could manage against the one patch of undamaged skin he could see on her face. But before he’d even touched her, he felt her anxiety spike. A tremor ran through her, so that even her eyelashes shook. He pulled back, feeling like crap.

  “You take care,” he murmured as he turned away. And even though he knew he might never see her again, he would not take one last look. Not now. Not like this. This was not a picture he wanted to have in his head. This was not how he wanted to remember her.

  As he pushed through the door that led to the lobby, he nearly collided with Seth. The boy had obviously taken the time to change his clothes, to wash his face and hands, and the fact that he looked none the worse for wear left Liam even more enraged.

  “Hey, did you see her?” Seth asked. “How is she?”

  “How do you think she is?” Liam snarled. “You son-of-a-bitch. I oughta beat the crap outta you—see how you feel. How the fuck could you let that happen and not stop it?”

  “Me?” Seth glared at him. “Where the fuck were you when all this was going down? I found her like that, asshole. I chased the son of a bitch off her. There wasn’t anything else I could do. Other than call for help and, and clap my fucking hands.”

  All right, all right, you made your point, Liam thought, trying his best to tamp down his own feelings of impotent rage. It wasn’t Seth he was angry at. It was himself. No, it was Gregg. But then the last part of Seth’s speech caught his ear. “Clap your hands? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Seth shook his head. “Yeah, dude. Fuck. I know. Of all things, huh? I mean, why would she ask me to do something like that? Clap my hands, Jesus!”

  Liam stared at Seth, nonplussed. Then his stomach heaved. He raced for the door, barely making it outside before he got sick all over the bushes that flanked the entrance.

  Dear God. He knew what the clapping had been about and the knowledge burned in his gut like acid. Cara must have known how badly she was hurt, how close to dead Gregg had left her.

  And, just like Tinkerbell, she hadn’t wanted to die. Clap your hands, if you believe in fairies…

  “Hey, brah, you okay?” Chay asked materializing out of the darkness.

  Liam took a deep breath and nodded, conscious of a surreal sense of total calm creeping over him. His mind felt suddenly as clear and as empty as the morning sky. “Yeah, I’m good. Can you give me a ride back to my apartment?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure could,” Chay replied, looking slightly puzzled.

  Liam smiled serenely. “Good. Let’s go.” There were a few things at his apartment that he needed. Things like his gun, for instance.

  So he’d go t
here and he’d get them.

  Watching Gregg die – slowly, very slowly – was the only clear goal he had in mind, right now. After that? Well, he just didn’t know...

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Marsha had not been expecting either of the phone calls when they came. The call from Adam was a shock that threatened to destroy her newfound happiness.

  How was it possible that she’d sensed not an inkling of Sinead’s distress the previous day? Her sister had been clinging to life by a thread, yet not the slightest premonition had disturbed Marsha’s mood. She hadn’t given a single thought all day to any of her sisters. And the fact that none of them had considered it necessary to alert her to the emergency unfolding in their midst only proved that she wasn’t the only member of her family who had grown to take her former abilities for granted.

  As she paced back and forth in her kitchen with the phone to her ear, pressing Adam for more information, she became increasingly aware of Sam, leaning in the doorway, watching her with quiet concern. She reached out a hand toward her husband, smiling as he clasped it in his. Not a word was exchanged between them, and yet she had no doubt he knew exactly what she was feeling.

  He understood her far better than she’d ever given him credit for and, no matter what else might occur in the future, she would never again allow herself to forget that. Or to undervalue his support like she’d done in the past.

  “Well, Adam, I’m just glad everything worked out,” she murmured finally into the phone. “And congratulations, again. Tell Sinead I’ll stop by later today to see her.”

  Marsha pressed disconnect and was turning toward Sam, intending to give him an up close and personal demonstration of how grateful she was feeling for all his love and support when the phone rang again. Sam sighed ruefully as she put the phone back to her ear.