If the bastard hurt her, harmed a hair on her head, Wulf would strangle the man with his bare hands. It mattered not how many more of the things Terrence had called bullets pierced his body. He would not leave the woman he loved to the mercy of a madman.
“Just showing your boyfriend who’s boss, Chalcey,” Terrence said, his voice high-pitched, suggesting that he was not as in control of the situation as he would have Wulf believe. His words tumbled out in a rush. “I came here looking for you so’s I could get that dance costume back. It cost me a mint, yanno. And it’s not like you’re ever gonna wear it—you made that real clear. Thought I’d stick it on eBay or something. Recoup my losses. But he wouldn’t let me into your room. He was gonna chuck me out. Me! He wouldn’t listen, even when I threatened him with the gun. Dumbass didn’t even know what one was. Can you believe that? What is he, retarded? Had to shoot him when he went for me. Self-defense. You understand, don’t you, Chalcey?”
“Yes. Of course I understand.” Chalcey’s voice sounded pleasant and calm. Only the merest tremor signified her fear.
Wulf was proud of her strength, her courage. Even so, he wished with all his heart that she’d run. Stubborn, stubborn woman.
“Wulf is a very scary-looking guy when he’s pissed off. No one could possibly blame you for shooting him, Terrence. It was just an unfortunate accident. I’ll ring for the EMTs. They’ll get him all fixed up and everything will be peachy.”
Wulf couldn’t suppress the hitch in his breathing as she headed straight for the phone.
Terrence’s gaze darted to him, and then slid back to Chalcey. The blunt nose of the weapon wavered.
Wulf tensed, willing the man to keep the weapon aimed at him. He released a little of the pain he’d been holding inside with a long, drawn out groan, and shifted slightly to keep the man’s attention on him.
Chalcey grabbed the phone. “Hello? Ambulance, please.”
“Chalcey?” Terrence frowned, indecision flitting across his features. His weapon was still pointed at Wulf, but his gaze, his attention, was focused on Chalcey.
“You should put the gun away, Terrence,” she said. “We wouldn’t want another accident, would we?”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Chalcey,” Terrence said.
“Done what?”
“You didn’t cover the phone’s mouthpiece. You shouldn’t have done that.”
Wulf didn’t hesitate. He slumped to the floor and rolled onto his side. From somewhere, he found the strength to get his feet under him. He launched himself at Terrence, shouldering him to the ground. Even as they fell, Wulf was reaching for the man’s weapon, hoping to knock it from his hand. He missed. Cursing, he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted, feeling the bones grinding beneath his grip.
Terrence punched him in the stomach. It was akin to being kicked by a warhorse. The pain ripped through Wulf and he blacked out momentarily.
From a great distance, he heard Chalcey scream, and forced his eyelids open.
He’d failed. An insane madman had the woman he loved. Terrence had looped one arm around her neck in a chokehold. Thank the gods for one small mercy: The gun was aimed at Wulf.
“Keep that up and I’ll shoot him again,” Terrence said.
“Bastard,” she said, her voice a pained rasp. “I’ll. Kill. You. Myself.” Even now, when the situation was hopeless, she struggled.
Blood loss grayed Wulf’s vision. He knew he was about to pass out again. And this time, he did not believe he would awaken. But before he bled out and passed from this world he had one last message for her. “I love you, Chalcedony!”
His shout followed her as Terrence dragged her through the door into the stairwell. The door clanged shut. “I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I just didn’t understand what I was feeling. I didn’t know.” Darkness shrouded him. I didn’t… know.
~~~
Chapter Nineteen
Chalcey awoke to hell. The air was thick. When she gasped a breath it scorched her throat. Her head throbbed. She was disoriented, struggling to process the information her senses were conveying to her brain. Her vision filled with an expanse of shiny black. Her nose bumped a surface that was bone-hard overlaid with satin smoothness. And then she realized that she was being carried over someone’s shoulder.
She pummeled his back with her fists. “Bastard!” The word tore from her throat, leaving it raw. She coughed, gasped another breath, forced out the words. “Put me down!”
“Easy, Chalcey. I got you.”
A voice, familiar, despite it being husky from the acrid smoke. Not Terrence. Smoke. Why was there so much smoke?
Her rescuer coughed and spat. “Almost out. Hang in there.”
“E-Esmeralda?”
“Yep.” Esmeralda negotiated the last couple of steps and then she was pushing through the street door, out into the blessedly fresh air.
Chalcey gasped for breath and choked. She coughed. Her head threatened to explode. She couldn’t stop coughing, couldn’t get enough air. Black spots cavorted in her headspace, and the next thing she became aware of was an eerie wail in the distance.
Funny, she didn’t remember Esmeralda putting her down. She must have blacked out for a moment. She lay on the ground, staring up at a blue-on-blue sky, its perfection marred by a plume of ashy-black.
The screech of sirens scoured her skull. The pain in her head escalated. It hurt to think but there was something important she needed to remember. Someone important.
She rolled to her hands and knees, crawled to her feet. And stood, paralyzed with horror, staring at her studio. Flames wreathed the lower half of the building, reaching hungrily for the upper story, reaching hungrily for….
OhGodohGod. “Wulf!”
Hands steadied her beneath her elbows. “Easy, ma’am. You should sit down. I’ve called it in. Fire department and paramedics are on their way.”
She stared, uncomprehending, at the helpful stranger who was trying to ease her back down to the ground. “No,” she said to him, clutching his forearms and locking her knees. “Can’t. Wulf’s in there.”
The guy turned aside to speak to someone, his tone urgent.
Then Esmeralda was peering into Chalcey’s face, her eyes huge with shock. “You sure, Chalcey? You sure Wulf’s in there?”
“Yes. He—” Another coughing fit stole her words.
“Oh God.” Tears overflowed Esmeralda’s eyes, tracking shiny little trails of cleanness down her smudged cheeks. “I found you out cold about halfway up the stairwell, Chalcey. Looked like you’d slipped on the stairs trying to get out. The smoke…. My only thought was getting you the hell out of there. I didn’t think to look for anyone else. Fuck. Fuck!”
The guy Chalcey was still holding on to wasn’t having any of it. “You got her out, sweetheart,” he said to Esmeralda. “You probably saved her life. There’s nothing more you could have done.”
The sirens cut off. There was a moment of peaceful throbbing silence, and then voices, shouting orders. In the melee of organized chaos, Chalcey let go of the man and walked away.
“Chalcey!”
Esmeralda’s voice, high and uncertain. And then a stream of words that Chalcey couldn’t make out, didn’t want to understand because she didn’t want to hear them. She broke into a run, hurtling toward the burning building, heart pounding in her chest, lungs laboring for breath.
Someone—a cop—grabbed her by the arm, swinging her around to a halt. “You can’t go in there, ma’am!”
She clawed at his hands, desperately trying to free herself. “Have to. Have to save him. Wulf!”
“Chalcey!” Another man helped the cop restrain her. “Chalcey, it’s me, Rick.” He grasped her arms, shaking her gently when she stared at him, uncomprehending. “Will’s cop friend, remember? Calm down, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“You’re wrong.” She collapsed against Rick’s chest. There was no point in fighting any more. It was too late. “Wulf.” The
cough built in her throat. She swallowed it down. “Wulf.”
“Medic!” someone—the other cop—yelled.
“Chalcey?” Rick’s voice. “Tell me about Wulf.”
“There was a man.” Don’t cough. “The one from the bar. Terrence Cabot.” Swallow. Don’t cough. Have to get it out, have to tell Rick. “He had a gun. Shot Wulf. Grabbed me. Threatened to shoot Wulf again if I— If I didn’t— Oh, God. Should never have left him.”
Rick’s arms tightened around her. He spoke over her head to the other cop. “I’ll take it from here. You follow the other woman—”
“Esmeralda,” Chalcey whispered.
“Follow Esmeralda to the hospital and get her statement.”
“On to it.”
“Wulf?”
Rick knew what she was asking. “The stairwell caved in before the firefighters could get up to the studio. They’re still searching but it’s not looking good. I’m sorry, Chalcey.”
“I’m sure they did all they could.” Her voice sounded mechanical, as though all humanity had been stripped away, leaving an automaton who mouthed the polite phrases but didn’t—couldn’t—feel them.
She closed her eyes. Over her head, Rick took charge. He stuck with her as the medics chivvied her onto a gurney. He was there when they loaded her into the ambulance and drove her away from the remains of a life she’d worked so hard to build, away from the remains of the love she hadn’t been brave enough to hold on to.
This couldn’t be real, had to be a nightmare. Wulf couldn’t be dead. She’d have felt it when—if—he’d died. She would have known the moment his soul left his body and was consigned to the hell of the crystal. They were linked, bonded. She would have known, felt it.
A peculiar wailing sound filled her head. She could see the medic bending over her, see his lips moving, but she couldn’t hear anything except the wailing. It sounded like a lost soul departing this plane of existence. And perhaps it was. Perhaps it was Wulf’s soul.
Rick held tightly to her hand and stared down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled with concern. She wondered if he could hear the wailing, too. And then she realized that she was making the sound. A sharp prick in her arm. Coolness flooding her veins. Then nothing.
~~~
She hated hospitals, the smell of disinfectant and desperation. She hated the poking and the prodding, the endless questions from the doctors and nurses. She wanted to go home… until she remembered she had no home. Until she remembered what she’d lost.
The hospital staff insisted on keeping her overnight for observation. Tomorrow, she was told by a too-cheerful doctor, if there were no complications from smoke inhalation, she might be discharged. She would worry about it then.
Rick’s visit was in his official capacity. “We found Terrence Cabot. He admitted to everything. You got that huge bump on the back of your head because you fought him when he grabbed you, and both of you took a tumble downstairs. You were knocked out and he broke his arm. Pity it wasn’t his neck. Would have saved us a heap of paperwork.”
A smile ghosted across her lips at the sourness in his voice. Rick obviously wasn’t a fan of paperwork.
“He left me there.”
“Yep. Scarpered. Bastard didn’t even bother to check how bad you were injured.”
“Did he set the fire, too?”
“About the fire. Still waiting on the final report but preliminary findings say it started in the vacant downstairs offices being used for storage.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t even wondered how the fire might have started until now. Everything had happened so fast that it was still a blur. She’d been too busy coping with the devastating aftermath to dwell on the details. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“Does Cabot smoke?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why?”
“Just curious. Turns out Cabot’s been fixated on you for a while, Chalcey. He thinks losing you is the reason his life’s turned to shit and he can’t win a competition to save himself. He convinced himself if he got back together with you, and you were his dance partner again, everything would be peachy-keen. He’s been stalking you for weeks. He’s the one responsible for all the hang-up calls.”
“Wow.”
“That surprises you?”
“He used to get cranky if I looked at anyone else but…. Yeah, it surprises me. I had no idea. I was just his dance partner, Rick. We never dated. And I never slept with him.” She reached for her water glass, and took a sip. Her throat still felt raw, and it hurt to talk. “I thought Ray was the only creep I had to worry about.”
Rick shrugged. “Walker looked good for it. When we called him in, he confessed to the graffiti. And, with a bit of encouragement, a few other things. Such as sexually harassing you and your friend Esmeralda. She’s not pressing charges. You?”
Chalcey shook her head. “No. Wulf—” God. She squeezed her eyelids shut until the agony eased enough that she could say his name. “Wulf dealt to him. I figure he already got most of what he deserves.”
“Yeah. So Walker told us. In more detail than we could ever possibly want.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
“So. We need a statement. I figured it’d be better if you talked to someone you know. Feel up to telling me what went down?”
“Yes.” No. She did it anyway, carefully skirting the stuff about magical crystals and curses and Wulf’s origins. She didn’t want to spend the night in a psych ward.
The next bunch of visitors were more difficult to cope with. Sam and Marcus showed up first. As soon as she was discharged they would take her home—to Sam’s apartment. And she’d stay there as long as she liked. No argument. And once that was all settled to Sam’s satisfaction, it was awkward and stilted. Sam kept starting to speak and then clamming up. Marcus would squeeze her hand and she’d lean into him. Watching the two of them…. Chalcey’s heart broke. She was happy for them, but it was hard—so gut-wrenchingly hard—to see them together like this, in love, when she had lost the man she loved.
Jai and Esmeralda stopped by—Esmeralda clad in a hospital gown a shade of green that she insisted was hell on her complexion. Chalcey summoned a smile and played the game because she was damned if she would contribute to the guilt Esmeralda was trying so desperately to hide. She wanted to say something to Esmeralda that would make it all okay, but she was afraid the words that would spill from her mouth would be cruel, hurtful words. Words that would devastate Esmeralda. Words like, “You should have left me there to burn. I’d rather be dead than have to live on without him.”
Esmeralda didn’t deserve that, so Chalcey kept everything locked up tight inside her. So tight that her hand shook, and when she reached for her water glass, she spilled it all down her front. Jai rang for a nurse. He threw Chalcey a knowing, sympathetic glance, and ushered Esmeralda out of the room.
Will and Anna visited, too. They hovered anxiously around her bed, offering glasses of water, and expressions of sympathy, and promises to help her find another studio to lease. Like she gave a shit about her studio anymore. But she thanked them anyway, and pretended gratitude. Maybe later—much, much later—she would attempt to rebuild her life. For now, she just wanted to get through the next hour, the next day.
And when everyone had finally said what they had to say and left her in peace, she turned off the light, and stared at the ceiling until sleep took her.
She dreamed of Wulf.
In her dream he was without substance, a shadowy indistinct form tumbling into a seemingly endless void. He was fading, falling, spinning helplessly, unable to save himself. And she knew when he did finally hit the bottom, his life-force would disperse and be consumed by the ever-hungry blackness.
This was no dream. This was real.
She called his name but he didn’t hear her—couldn’t hear her—because her voice was swallowed by the roiling darkness that engulfed him.
She shouted his name again, his full name this time, and her v
oice morphed into something more than just sound. It became a tangible living presence spun from desire and want and raw aching need.
“Wulfeniiiiite!” Over and over she screamed his name, imbuing the echoes with her love for him, and sending them hurtling down into the void to find him, wherever he might be. She drained herself to the point of exhaustion but she refused to give in. And somehow, some where or when, she found him.
The skeins of her love wrapped around Wulf’s body, infinitesimally slowing his descent. With each scream that tore through her, Wulf became more substantial and his hazy form more delineated, until she could discern his features… and the spark of awareness that shone in his eyes.
She gathered herself for one final effort, knowing in her soul that if she failed, she had no more strength left to give. She couldn’t fail him again. She wouldn’t.
She honed her life-energy itself into a psychic arrow and launched it at Wulf. It pierced his heart. He screamed soundlessly. His body convulsed, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment she believed that her instincts had been wrong, that she’d destroyed him. Then the mystical link she’d forged between her plane of existence and his, flared and strengthened.
“Wulfenite!”
A sighing breath and then, “Chalcedony.”
Fully formed now, and self-aware, Wulf hung suspended in nothingness. And as Chalcey watched, a tiny mote of light winked into existence, illuminating the darkness. It radiated hope and trust and forgiveness, but most significant of all, undying love.
And it was her.
She saw him smile. A pulsating warmth bloomed in her chest, directly over her heart. She knew her love had saved him from his fate. At least for a little while.
This was the true Testing, this dream that was not a dream. Only she had the power to save Wulf. And she knew what she had to do.
The Crystal Warriors Series Bundle Page 28
