Watcher (The Shining Ones Book 1)

by Shawnee Small

  Then the darkness took me.

  15

  I woke up in the hospital room with an insane thirst. I was beyond parched. I could’ve drunk a gallon of water in mere seconds if someone had set a jug in front of me and I could actually see it.

  As it was, it was hard to see anything. Although the blinds appeared to be drawn, what little sun came through the vertical slats stabbed at my eyes, making them water. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to shrink away from the light, but it was no good. My neck screamed at the slightest movement, and I laid my head back on the pillow. I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs hurt, too. They ached as if someone had scraped at them. Each breath wheezed in and out with concerted effort. If I thought about it too long, I hurt all over.

  “She’s awake,” said a relieved voice to my left. “Get the nurse.”

  I automatically turned my head toward the voice and gasped when my neck went into a spasm.

  A blurry shape went from my feet to my head, and seconds later, the spasm melted away in a drug-induced haze.

  “I hit the morphine pump,” said a voice that sounded like Birdie’s.

  “What did you go and do that for?” asked an exasperated voice that could only be Haylee Jane’s.

  “She was in a lot of pain,” he replied, his tone defensive.

  “She needs rest. It would be best if you came back later,” said a prim and proper voice I didn’t recognize.

  I struggled against the pull of the morphine running through my veins.

  “No,” I rasped, even though my throat felt like someone had taken a belt sander to it. “Stay.”

  I clutched for the hand nearest the bed. It was warm and smooth. A girl’s arm.

  Haylee Jane.

  “Water?” I croaked.

  “I’m here,” she said gently as she scooted onto the bed beside me. She stuck a straw in my mouth and I sucked on it greedily, drinking as much as I could.

  “Better?” she asked. I tried to nod before blinking my eyes. I couldn’t focus on her.

  “Eye drops,” I whispered, my throat still tender. I lifted my other hand toward my eye.

  “Hold on,” she said, her weight shifting from the bed. I thought I heard her leave the room, but I couldn’t be sure. I blamed the drugs as I drifted in and out of consciousness. The groaning of the mattress springs woke me up, and I felt a body back on the bed, a leg touching my hip bone.

  I started to move my head when a hand clamped onto my forehead.

  “Just keep still,” Haylee commanded. I squirmed on the bed in protest.

  “Hold still or I’m gonna take your eye out. Do you wanna survive drownin’ just to turn around and be a blind woman? Don’t move.” Her grip was firm.

  Her words had startled me.

  Drowning?

  My vision cleared, and I could see Haylee in all her glory looming over me. Her two emerald-colored eyes stared back at me, and a big grin cracked her face wide open.

  “Thanks.” My voice was a little louder this time. I could feel the immediate relief of the drops. With my eyes free of hazy gunk, I looked around the room, careful not to strain my neck. What I saw wasn’t reassuring.

  They had put me in a big white box. Not literally, of course, but that’s what the room reminded me of‌—‌a big, sterile box. To my left, there appeared to be a tall metal coatrack that turned out to be the stand for my IV drip. A few feet from that was a hospital table, which held an orange plastic tray. The smell emanating from the tray‌—‌pungent and gamey‌—‌was something I’d expect to smell in a slaughterhouse, not in a hospital. It made me nauseous. I tried to block out the odor, but it was no use. The smell was overpowering.

  “Get that out,” I gasped, pointing my IV-laden arm at the tray.

  “It’s just chicken soup.” Haylee leaned back over me.

  “Don’t care. Please. I’m going to throw up,” I said weakly.

  Haylee scuttled up off the bed as quick as she could. She wheeled the whole contraption out and down the hallway. She was gone again.

  I glanced toward the foot of the bed and was surprised to see Birdie sitting in a green hospital chair. He had been silent during my whole exchange with Haylee.

  “Birdie?”

  Birdie looked up, startled, before scrambling over to the left side of my bed, almost knocking the IV stand over in the process. The plastic tube yanked on my arm and I hissed as the needle dug around in my flesh.

  “God, Poe, I’m sorry. Do you want morphine?” he asked as he righted the stand and reached for the pump.

  “No!” I said, a little too sharply. He quickly withdrew his hand from the IV.

  “I want to stay awake.” I tried to smile as I patted his hand. “Sit and talk. Why am I here?”

  He looked at me as if I was crazy.

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I know it must be pretty bad if I’m‌…‌in the hospital.” I tried to push the anxiety aside.

  “Jesus, Poe, you almost died! I actually thought you were dead. You were just lying there on the sand. And your skin‌…‌it was this horrible color and cold, colder than anything I‌…‌It was like…” He trailed off.

  I stared at him for a minute and tried to absorb what he was saying. I’d been working the party - that part I remembered‌—‌but everything else was a blank. “I don’t understand…”

  “I heard you shout, but I couldn’t find you. I must’ve run up and down that beach three times before Haylee started screaming. I tried to resuscitate you, but it wasn’t working…” He rushed through his next words. “Adam pushed me out of the way. By that time, there was a bunch of bystanders, so it was complete chaos. I didn’t know what was happening, but I swear he kissed you. I think he did, at least.” His face flushed a light pink.

  “Kissed me?” I repeated his words.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. It didn’t look like any CPR class I’ve ever taken. It doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “What matters is that you came around. It was like he breathed life into you or something. All of sudden, you weren’t blue anymore.” He stopped abruptly. “That was one of the worst nights of my life. I’ll never forget it, Poe, and I won’t go through that again. Don’t you ever do something foolish like that…” His speech tapered off as he grimaced, his face setting into a frown. Clearly, he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

  “By the sounds of it, I don’t want to go through it again either. Look.” I wiggled my fingers. “Good as new.”

  That seemed to lighten his mood a bit.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

  “So how long have I been here?”

  “Five days,” he replied.

  “Five days!” I exclaimed. I tried to sit up and my neck went nuts. It was like someone was trying to twist my head off with a vice grip.

  “Lie down,” commanded Birdie, who had suddenly turned into Nurse Ratched.

  “What about Daisy?” I asked with alarm.

  “Relax. She’s in good hands,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze. “Where’s Haylee, anyhow?” He fidgeted with the call button. I pulled the remote out of his hand and set it back on the bed.

  “Wait‌—‌Haylee’s got Daisy?” I asked, looking back up at him.

  “I didn’t say that,” he replied, the exasperation clear in his tone.

  “Birdie…”

  “All right!” he blurted. “She’s with Adam.”

  “You left my dog with Adam!”

  “I didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s been here looking after you, too. It’s like he’s on a personal good Samaritan mission or something,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

  “You’re kidding, right?” I asked.

  “I wish,” he said, a scowl crossing his face.

  His irritation made me smile.

  “What?” he asked, shrugging.

  “Birdie Finch, you’ll always be my hero. Friends f
orever, right?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” he replied, his voice breaking.

  “Awww, Birdie, it’s–”

  There was a sharp rap at the door.

  “Am I interrupting?” asked the familiar voice.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  I gave Birdie a nudge.

  “No, I guess not. By all means, come in, Mr. Walker,” said Birdie in a big, exaggerated voice, like he was announcing bingo numbers. I nudged him again, this time harder and in his ribs.

  “Stop it,” I hissed under my breath. Birdie sighed and got up.

  “I was just going to go down to the cafeteria. I’ll be back in a little while,” he said, looking between me and Adam, who still stood in the doorway. Birdie bent down and placed a brief kiss on top of my head. For once, I wasn’t embarrassed.

  “Thanks, Birdie.” He squeezed my hand and walked out of the room past Adam.

  I looked out the window, not knowing where else to look. It felt hot and stuffy all of a sudden.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked, his tone polite and proper.

  “I’m fine.” My voice was thick and uncomfortable in my throat. “Thanks for looking after Daisy. You didn’t need to, you know. Birdie would’ve taken her.”

  I didn’t know how to thank him for saving my life yet again.

  He placed his hand over the blankets on my arm. “Poesy–”

  “And thanks for looking in on me as well. I know you’re busy.” I was babbling. The moment was so awkward that I could feel the first few drips of perspiration popping up on my chest and under my arms. “And I’m sure Brianna didn’t want you down here, either. I’m sure you got an earful for–”

  “Stop,” he said, squeezing my arm tight. “Look at me.”

  At first, I resisted. I stared at the chair where Birdie had sat. When that didn’t work, I tried to focus on the stain above the door. I wanted to look anywhere but at him. But I couldn’t keep the charade up for long. His silence made me uncomfortable, and I found myself drawn to his face even as my mind told me to look the other way.

  He had changed since the last time I had seen him, and not for the better. In fact, he looked awful‌—‌there was no other way to put it. His face was drawn and thin. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he hadn’t eaten in months. His cheekbones protruded even farther out from his nose than usual, and his skin was pale to the point of looking almost transparent, but that wasn’t the worst of it. His eyes made my heart ache. It was as if something had sucked all the subcutaneous fat out from around his eye sockets. His chocolate-brown eyes sat in gray cavernous hollows that threatened to swallow his eyes up completely. I felt that if I stared hard enough, I might see his skull.

  “What happened to you?” I asked anxiously. Pulling my hand out from under the blanket, I touched his arm, expecting the familiar tingling sensation to take over. When it didn’t, I jerked my hand back, shocked.

  He took it the wrong way. “I understand if you do not want to see me. I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said, rising up from the bed.

  “Wait! Don’t go,” I said, trying hard not to sound desperate. I grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving. There was no buzzing, only the feel of soft, cool skin. What was going on?

  He sat back down and looked into my face.

  “You’ve changed.” I tried to hide the alarm in my voice. If ever there was an understatement, that was one. He gave me a thin smile as his skin pulled back from his face in a way that reminded me of a Halloween mask.

  “Yes. An unfortunate consequence of changing you,” he replied. “It will get better with time.”

  “Changing me?” I asked, confused.

  “I am sorry.” He said it just above a whisper.

  “What for? For saving my life again?”

  “No, for condemning your life.” His eyes held a sadness that baffled me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, the alarm creeping into my voice.

  “I did not know what it meant until it was too late. Why did I not see this coming?” He searched around the room as if invisible strangers had congregated around my bed.

  “Stop talking in riddles already. You’re freaking me out.”

  “My life for yours.”

  I stared. “What did you just say?”

  “I gave up part of myself in order to save you,” he said, searching for the right words. “But it is worse than that. I do not regret it except–”

  “What?”

  “I am afraid you will regret it. You see, you carry around a piece of me now.”

  It was irrational, but I couldn’t help myself. I ran my fingers over the surface of my stomach and chest, expecting to find stitches there, as if they had opened me up and inserted part of Adam into my body. There was nothing there except for a few scars I’d had since childhood.

  “It is not like that.” He took ahold of my hands and settled them in his lap. There was still no buzzing. “I did not have a choice. I could not set things back to rights, I could not alter the outcome, not with all the people around.”

  It still didn’t make sense to me until he spoke his next words, and then it felt like someone had stopped my heart.

  “I gave you part of my soul,” he said without blinking.

  “Part of your soul is inside of me?” I squeaked out. It was starting to slot into place. The strange visions, the darkness, the water, the light. Too much light. He was inside me.

  “Oh god,” was all that would come out.

  “Sorry,” he said, but I barely heard him.

  He was inside of me. Some part of him, at least. His soul. His soul was inside me. Would it hurt me? Would his soul overwhelm mine? Would I die anyway? I tried not to panic, but it was no good. I wanted to claw at my chest and pull him out of me. I imagined a small, squirming parasitic maggot feeding on my intestines, and I couldn’t handle it. I lurched over the side of the bed and vomited up all the water I’d drunk. My body kept heaving, as if it thought to do so would dislodge him from inside me.

  His face took on a look of alarm as he helped me back up onto the pillows. “It is not like that. My soul is not feeding off yours. Your body is just a vessel for it to reside in. Everything should be normal except for…”

  “For what?” I asked, hardly registering his presence as I tried to notice any changes in my body.

  “I am not sure,” he admitted. “There probably has not been a case of one of mine saving yours since before…” He stopped.

  The Fall.

  He didn’t have to say it. Somehow I knew it. The rebel angels and their human wives.

  “What now?” I asked. I felt ill.

  He looked frustrated.

  “I do not know. It feels wrong, somehow. I do not know why, but it just does,” he said, more to himself than to me.

  Of course it was wrong. I was harboring part of an angel inside me. What was right about that? But that wasn’t what he was talking about.

  “Thank you for saving me again, but you don’t have to be here,” I said magnanimously. “I’ll be fine.” I was a bad liar and felt anything but fine.

  “You want me to leave you alone?” he asked, his voice solemn and quiet.

  “No. I don’t want you to go,” I admitted. Our lives were now irrevocably linked, whether or not either one of us liked it.

  He looked visibly relieved as he shook his head. “I could not leave you even if you wanted me to, Poesy. We are joined, for better or worse. And‌…‌I do not want to leave you, either.”

  His gaze made me uncomfortable, but not in an unpleasant way. I could feel my desire simmering just under the surface. It wasn’t as white-hot as it had been before our falling out, but it wouldn’t take a lot to bring it back to its old potency. I tried not to think about it in case he could feel my lust through our new connection.

  “And Brianna?” I asked. I couldn’t stop myself from bringing her
up.

  He sighed. “Poesy, there was never anything going on with me and Brianna. If you must‌…‌Well, I guess I used her. I needed a way to keep tabs on you without raising your suspicions.”

  “You used Brianna to spy on me?” My voice raised an octave.

  “Yes. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Is that not what humans say?” he replied, looking me right in the eye.

  “Yes,” I spluttered, “but Brianna, of all people?”

  “I know. I was quite surprised at how much she dislikes you,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I would’ve pushed him off the bed if I’d had the strength. Instead, I settled for a loud groan. My gesture seemed to alarm him.

  “Do you need the nurse? Perhaps this is all too much in one go,” he replied, without even waiting for an answer. Before I could stop him, he had pushed the call button. A nurse rushed into the room quicker than I had thought possible.

  “I must insist that you leave Ms. Wharton to rest. I tried to tell the others, but I won’t take no for an answer this time,” said the slightly overweight nurse. She was dressed in pink-and-violet nursing scrubs that were covered in cats.

  Oh god, a cat person, was all I could think.

  Not that there was time to think anything else. The cat-covered nurse ushered Adam out of the room and hit the morphine pump twice. I struggled to stay awake, to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but the morphine excelled at its job. My eyes began to droop as the warmth of the drugs seeped into my system. It was no good. I gave in to the feeling as I closed my eyes.

  It’s going to be okay, I thought to myself.

  And then I was asleep.

  Epilogue

  I stepped out of the comforting warmth of the taxi into the frigid air of a sunny Christmas morning. There was no snow, of course, being Tybee, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t cold. I could see my breath as I stood still next to the taxi. It came out in little plumes of smoke as if I had a pack-a-day habit. There was no ice on the ground, but the sun did little to alleviate the chill in the air. I shivered and wrapped my scarf closer around my neck.

  The taxi had dropped us off in front of my driveway. The renters who lived to my right had done their best to cheer up their place with festive flair. Small, colored twinkle lights were draped around the banister on the front porch and around the fake plastic plant that sat to the left of the doorway. A small magnolia wreath, which was real, had been tacked to the front door, partially obscuring the old brass door knocker that’d been on the house since I was a kid. A giant blow-up snow globe lay deflated in the cramped front yard, waiting for dusk, when it would be plugged in and turned on. A cute cartoon penguin sitting in a pile of fake snow. It was the same Christmas inflatable from last year, not nearly as garish as some of the others we had passed coming home from the hospital.