Fragile Brilliance (Shifters & Seers)

by Blackwell, Tammy

  “Let’s move him onto the stretcher.” The voice came from over Jase’s shoulder. The owner, a guy with silver hair and a blue EMS shirt, leaned into Charlie’s vision just a second later. “How are you doing there, big guy?”

  Charlie meant to say he was fine, but the coughing got in the way.

  “He was only out for two, maybe three minutes,” Liam said, outing himself as the person carrying Charlie’s feet. “He’s got some burns on his right side.”

  Burns? Huh. He couldn’t feel those…

  Wait. There it was. And dear, sweet Jesus, it hurt.

  He made a mental note to thank Liam for pointing those out as soon as he could throw a punch again.

  “Where is the other ambulance?” Jase asked as they slid Charlie onto the stretcher and started pushing him across some pavement. Since Charlie could only see the pretty patterns the ambulance’s flashing lights were making on the black cloud of smoke, he didn’t know exactly where they were, but he guessed they’d carried him as far as the main sidewalk winding through the center of campus.

  “We sent it on with the girls in it,” Mr. EMT said.

  “Girls? As in both of them?”

  Mr. EMT flinched slightly at the tremor in Liam’s voice. Even the most human of humans felt an instinctual ripple of fear when the Alpha Male growled at them. If Charlie was able to talk, he would’ve told the guy it was Liam’s I’m-freaking-out-with-fear growl, not his I’m-going-to-kill-you-and-make-you-like-it growl. Not many people could tell the difference, but Charlie and Liam were tight. Not to mention, Charlie was wanting to do a little freaked-out growling of his own.

  “The blond one… Senator Harper’s granddaughter?” One of Charlie’s friends must have nodded, because he continued. “She gave us a lot of lip, but then someone mentioned the press was on their way, and she relented. I’m guessing she didn’t want the world speculating on why she ran out of a burning building, carrying a girl while wearing nothing but an old Rolling Stones t-shirt.”

  Charlie turned his head to look, and sure enough, Liam was going around bare-chested.

  “Her injuries?”

  Even Charlie knew what HIPPA was and how it meant the guy wasn’t supposed to answer, but it was Liam, so Mr. EMT said, “None we could see, other than a second-degree burn on her foot, but they’re going to check her over.”

  “And Maggie?” It was more of a croak than actual words, but Jase had his back.

  “The other girl,” his cousin translated. “She’s going to pull through and be fine, right?”

  “She’ll probably need to stay in the hospital a few days, and there is going to be some scarring, but she’ll be fine. No lasting physical damage.”

  In the end, Charlie had to go to the hospital, too. The burning in his lungs and on his side were pretty bad, but nowhere near as excruciating as having to lay in the emergency room, looking at the water-stained ceiling tiles, while he didn’t know what was going on.

  He tried to focus on what Liam and the others might be doing to locate Reid and Davin rather than Maggie. If he thought too hard about her, he would think about what she had looked like when he found her. About the way the barbed wire had bit into her soft, delicate flesh. About how she was crumpled, lying still and lifeless on the ground. About how he felt when he thought he might lose her forever. About the scars she might carry on the inside now. About how she too was somewhere in this hospital alone.

  Did she know he was alive? Did she know he wouldn’t rest until they paid for what they did to her? Did she know he was about two seconds away from ripping all the medical crap off his body and going off in search of her?

  “Don’t do it.”

  Charlie’s hand fell away from the IV at the sound of his father’s voice.

  “You’re strong, but you’re not Superman, son.” As far as hallucinations went, this one was pretty vivid. Not only did he hear his father, but he saw him, too. The original Charles Hagan moved to the foot of Charlie’s bed. In Charlie’s eyes, his father had always seemed larger than life. Not so much anymore. Arms, which had once contained enough strength to send a boy flying into a wall, now looked too frail to lift a gallon of milk. “Let the doctors do their magic.”

  Charlie ripped the oxygen mask off his face. “What are you doing here?” He sounded like someone had taken a sander to his vocal chords, but he could talk. That was a bonus.

  “My son almost died in a fire. What the hell do you think I’m doing here?”

  After the battle with the old Alpha Pack left Charlie in a coma and then bound to a hospital bed for months, his parents had stayed by his side. They’d gone so far as to rent an apartment in Nashville where they wouldn’t have to make the forty-five minute drive back and forth to their house. It was rare for him to look up and not see either one of his parents, his brother, Jase, or Talley in the chair beside his bed, no matter the time of day. But Charlie knew his father’s presence was nothing more than a show. People were watching - the Alpha Pack was watching - and so Charles Hagan had put in his required appearances, but Charlie knew better than to mistake his performance as actual care and concern.

  “How did you get here so fast?”

  It had only been a couple of hours since the fire started, not nearly enough for someone to make the drive from his parent’s house to the hospital in Lexington.

  His dad concentrated on the machines monitoring his oxygen count and heartbeat as if he knew what they meant. “I was around.”

  “You were around?” But then he understood. The familiar scent he’d caught around the farm on occasion. The way all of the guards shrugged him off without looking him in the eyes when he asked why they continued to let “the neighbor” on the property. “You’ve been spying on the Alpha Pack? Are you insane? That can be considered an act of treason.” And the punishment for treason was immediate execution. Charlie might have some very mixed feelings about his father, but he didn’t want to have to stand witness as Liam ended his life.

  His father shot him a you’re-an-idiot look. It was one with which Charlie was very well acquainted. “I haven’t been spying on the Alpha Pack. I’ve been watching out for you.”

  Charlie tried to make sense of that in his head, but it wasn’t happening.

  “What? Why?”

  Charles, Sr., rubbed his top lip with his thumb. “You’re my son,” was his very short, non-helpful answer.

  “Since when?”

  “Since your mama birthed you, or more accurately, about nine months before that.”

  He knew it was weird, but Charlie had never thought of himself as his father’s son. His father’s disappointment. His father’s punching bag. Those roles he’d filled, but Charles Hagan’s son had always been Toby. He’d been fiercely proud of his first born. The two of them had a relationship Charlie watched and envied his entire life.

  “Afraid I would screw up as a Stratego? Making sure you wouldn’t have to barge in and save the family from public embarrassment?”

  There was a flash of anger in his father’s eyes, and Charlie found himself bracing for a blow. “You’re my son. I miss you. I miss Layne.” His father’s fists clenched so tightly the loose skin Charlie had been eyeing earlier was pulled taunt. “One of my kids is dead, and the other keeps trying to get himself killed. He refuses to come home. I only get to see my grandson with one of the Alphas looking over my shoulder.” He worked the muscles in his jaw, his eyes trained on the ceiling. “Your mother left me. I have nothing left.”

  Charlie questioned the working order of the hospital’s equipment, because it said everything was fine, but he was pretty certain his heart had stopped.

  “Mom left you?”

  Charlie couldn’t decide if he was happy she’d finally grown a backbone and done it, or if he was angry she hadn’t found the strength to do it when he needed her to.

  His father nodded, and Charlie thought there might be tears in the man’s eyes. Not that it mattered. Charlie wouldn’t feel sorry for him. Not after e
verything.

  “Right after the hustings where we were ordered to give you custody of Layne. She said I’d taken everything from her she’d ever cared about.” He swiped at his eyes with one hand and Charlie felt a stabbing pain in his chest. “She moved in with your Aunt Rosemary. I tried to tell her she could have the house, but she said she didn’t want it.”

  “And so you started stalking me?” Charlie was grateful he was laying down. Otherwise he was pretty sure he’d have landed on his ass by now due to the way his world was spinning upside down. “How did you get away with it? I mean, I get that you got those idiots from the Hagan Pack to cover your ass, but Liam and Scout should have sniffed you out ages ago.” His father’s silence was all the response he needed. “They knew,” he realized. “They knew, and they let you?”

  “They knew. Scout told me that should I, and I quote, ‘cause you an ingrown toenail’s amount of discomfort’ she would ‘end me with as little speed and as much pain’ as she was capable of.”

  Charlie sank back onto his pillow. As if his night hadn’t been shitty enough, now he had to deal with his dad? Or this strange person who sorta, kinda, but not really looked and acted like his dad. When he was younger he’d dreamed of this moment, of a time when his dad would realize what an ass he’d been and come begging forgiveness. He’d always imagined it would be more satisfying. Then again, he’d expected the words “I’m sorry” to come out of his dad’s mouth. All he had so far was finding out his dad had become a major creeper.

  “I checked on your girl,” his dad said, grabbing Charlie’s attention. “She’s going to be okay. She’s got a pint of someone else’s blood in her now and a few stitches, but they say her lungs look better than yours. You’ll get to take her home soon.”

  “And Scout?”

  His dad snorted. “Checked out against doctor’s advice before even seeing a doctor. She and the rest of your friends have gone on a manhunt. If those morons who set the fire were smart, they’d go turn themselves into the police. There is a chance prison bars might keep Scout from turning them into human origami projects.”

  “I should be out there with them.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Ah, there was his real father. Finally. The explanation about how he wasn’t smart or strong enough to be of any use was coming in 3… 2… 1…

  “You’re hurt, and you got that way saving the girl. That’s the most important thing. No matter what they do tonight, you’re still the hero.”

  Okay, that was it. Aliens had gotten to his dad. Aliens or maybe demons. Demons who were actually nicer and better at being human than his father ever was.

  “You know, I like her.”

  Charlie had no idea what his dad was talking about, but that seemed to be the theme for the evening.

  “I didn’t expect to, you know. When I first saw her, I didn’t think she was good enough for you, and not because of her color.”

  “Dad, if you have to say it’s ‘not because of her color’, then it’s because of her color.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” His dad had his don’t-even-think-about-arguing-with-me face on, and after many years of learning his lesson the hard way, Charlie didn’t. He might not agree with his dad, but he wouldn’t ever say so. “I’m not racist. I served with good men of every color in the Middle East.”

  “Of course you’re not.” And you’re not a child abuser either. Oh, wait…

  “She was just different than us, you know. She wore those weird clothes and was always wandering off to draw in her book. She didn’t talk much, and she always looked like she would take off running if someone yelled boo at her.”

  “I like her weird clothes. And she’s an artist. An amazing one.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t know much about art.” His dad shifted uncomfortably as if he was embarrassed by that confession. “I just knew the girl was strange, and I didn’t like her too much. But then I started seeing the two of you together, and I saw who you were when you were with her, and I changed my mind.”

  Charlie really couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. He thought they would lapse into a nice, awkward silence, but apparently once his dad started opening up and sharing he couldn’t stop himself from going on and on and on.

  “Scout was never a good fit for you. I know you two thought you were going to grow up and get married and have a bunch of pups of your own someday, but I knew it would never work. Scout was always too strong for you. She didn’t need you.”

  “Love isn’t about needing someone.” He didn’t want to be with Scout anymore, hadn’t in a long time, but his dad’s words still pissed him off.

  “Of course it is. Love is needing someone to be there to hold you together at the end of the day, because without them, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces. And it’s about them needing you to hold them together. You and Scout don’t need each other like that. You can’t hold each other’s pieces together. But Maggie…” He smiled. Like a real, I’m-thinking-happy-thoughts smile. “You’d already shattered, but she found all the pieces and put them back together.”

  For once, his dad was right. Maggie had put him back together. She’d made him feel alive again. He needed her like he needed oxygen, and thanks to the events of the last few hours, he knew exactly how much he needed that.

  The problem was, he didn’t know if she needed him. She liked him. She was attracted to him and liked all the hands-on activities they couldn’t do in the presence of others, but that wasn’t the same as need, was it? And while his dad might be on the Norman Bates side of crazy, he was onto something with this whole mutual needing thing.

  What happened when you needed someone and they didn’t need you back?

  There was a tap-tap-tap at the door and a blond doctor who looked a bit like she was manufactured by Mattel came into his room, electronic clipboard in hand.

  “How are we feeling, Mr. Hagan?”

  “Fine, thank you,” he said. There was a time when he’d been afraid of doctors. They seemed so sterile and God-like in their lab coats with all their fancy Latin words, but after a few months of being trapped in a hospital bed, he’d figured out they were just normal people. Normal people who were into big needles and other torture devices, but people all the same. “How are you this evening?”

  “I would be better if my patients didn’t take off their oxygen and have conversations after being told to lay back and rest, but so it goes.”

  Her face couldn’t have been more stoic if it had been made of plastic. Charlie tried for a laugh, thinking maybe she was joking, but when her eyes snapped over to him, he reached back, located the little plastic mask, and promptly slipped it onto his face.

  “Your chest x-ray looks pretty good considering everything, Mr. Hagan,” she said, scrolling through his chart. “You’re a lucky man.” She came over to his bedside and pushed a few buttons on the monitor. “You need to stay overnight for observation, but since I know you’re not going to do that, I’m going to write a prescription for some inhalers and pain medication. They will come with directions. If you want to fully recover, I suggest you follow them.” She glanced up to make sure he was paying attention. Charlie gave her a smile and a thumbs-up. If anything, she looked even more annoyed. “Stay away from cigarettes of all descriptions, including pot. Don’t exert yourself.” Her eyes flicked to his torso, which was bare since his shirt reeked of smoke and he refused to wear one of the paper gowns. Charlie might have felt a flush of pride over what he knew was a well-defined chest, but her gaze was so clinical he felt more like a lab rat than a piece of man candy. “No working out for at least four weeks, and then I want you to go slow with it.”

  Charlie nodded as if he planned on complying, which he did. Kinda. He would take it easy until the full moon when the Change would put everything, including his lungs, back to the way they should be.

  Doctor Barbie turned her don’t-even-think-about-messing-with-me look on his father. “I understand he’s legally an
adult, but I’m releasing him into your care. Watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything to further injure himself.” There was a slight movement at the corners of her mouth and eyes. In the world of Botox, it passed as a smile. “Your son is a hero, Mr. Hagan, and I have a soft spot for heroes. When he comes for his check-up in six weeks, I want to see him in top condition. I will be very upset if he isn’t.”

  Charles, Sr., chewed on his lips, trying to hide a smile. “I’ll do what I can, ma’am.”

  “You do that,” she said. “The nurse will be by with his orders in a few minutes. Once she gets everything unhooked, you’re free to go.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie’s dad said, reaching out to shake the doctor’s hand. “Thank you for everything.” There was a roughness to his voice, and when Charlie searched his eyes, he was shocked to see a sheen of tears there.

  A sheen of tears, but not the bloodshot bleariness he was used to. The moment the doctor left he asked, “Dad, when was the last time you had a drink?”

  Charles, Sr., scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. A week after your mother left?” He sat in the chair next to Charlie’s bed, seemingly fascinated with the tile on the floor. “I drank… God, I have no idea how much those first few days. I think maybe I was trying to drink myself to death. But then the booze ran out, and I sobered up and realized she was really gone. You were gone. And Toby…” He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Toby is gone forever.” He took another minute to collect himself before finally raising his eyes to his son. “I know I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect anyone to forgive me, but I’m trying, Charlie. I swear to God, I am.”

  Charlie didn’t know what to feel. On one hand, his dad was a dick. He’d made Charlie’s life a living hell from the time he was old enough to understand fear. He could remember anxiously watching the door every evening when he was a kid, dreading the moment his dad stepped through. Charlie wanted to tell him he deserved everything he was going through and then demand he get the hell out of his room.