Chasing Midnight (Dark of Night Book 2) (18 page)

SHANE

It wasn’t the first time Shane had ever gotten a call from the hospital. He was listed as Isabel’s emergency contact when they were engaged, and she had yet to change it. So here he was, braving daylight yet again.

She was already in a private room when he arrived. Hospitals were the worst for him, especially now when the sun was up and his energy was low. The smell of congealed blood and fouler things hung in the air like stale popcorn in a movie theater. It was both disgusting and made his stomach burn with hunger. He held his breath and walked toward her room. Reggie was sitting outside the door in a plastic chair.

“Reggie, what brings you here?” Shane asked, holding out his hand.

Reggie stood, shaking it before rubbing his hand over his bald head. “We gotta bit of a problem.”

Shane darted past him to where he could see her through the door. Isabel was lying in bed, her head completely covered in white gauze bandages, needles in her arm and hand.

“Is she okay?”

“Isabel is fine. We found her about twenty miles off Highway 26, just outsida Dorchester. Problem was, she had a coupla dead folks with ‘er.”

“And you think she killed them?”

“Highly doubt it. Besides being pretty beat up herself, it looks like she was kidnapped and taken out there by the owner of the car. Coroner says the girl’s been dead a while—she’s that missing person Isabel’s been looking into. The man, a fella named Theodore Long, he ended up on the wrong side of a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. Isabel swears it fell on him. Forensics is lookin’ at it now. Wouldn’t that be just her luck though?”

“Is she in trouble?”

“Nah. Course, she got a pretty nasty gash on the head. Doc says there might be some short-term memory loss, just so ya can be prepared. Just between us, that girl’s got more lives than a vampire cat.”

Shane nodded. “Can I go in?”

“Well, I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop ya. But watch out for the nurse with the red scrubs. She’s a grumpy one. Course, even she might not have the stones to kick a vampire out.” Reggie chuckled and patted Shane on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go find a cup of coffee. You need anything?”

Shane shook his head.

“Suit yourself.” Reggie walked away, whistling softly.

Shane pushed open the door.

Isabel opened one eye and grimaced. “I thought you were that horrible nurse again. Do me a favor, if she comes back in, eat her, okay?”

Shane smiled. If Isabel was cracking jokes, she must be doing better than she looked. Her face was almost completely purple, both eyes bright purple and red. She had scratches running down the side of her face and both forearms were bandaged. Seeing her, like this, something clicked inside him. For a moment, he could see the allure of making her a vampire. At least that way she might actually see her thirtieth birthday.

“And here I thought I was having a rough night,” Shane said as he pulled a chair over to the bedside.

She snorted. “Please. Compared to me, you are a rank amateur in the world of being kidnapped by crazy people.”

“Fair enough. You need anything? Besides my eating of the nurse, I mean.”

Isabel groaned and sat forward. “If you’re being this nice to me, I must really be bringing sexy back.”

“You do look a little… peaked.”

“Peaked? What are you, my grandmother? I look like hell. In my defense, I did just die a little. I think. That part’s a bit foggy. And have you seen a guy hanging around here, about six-two, blue eyes, big friggin’ wings?”

Shane frowned. “You’re not making sense. Are you sure you’re okay?”

She waved it off. “I’ll survive. What about Teddy?”

“The dead guy? Yeah, he’s—”

“Dead, so you said.”

“Yeah. Did you have anything to do with that?”

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t think so. I broke his leg trying to escape. He tied me up. I got loose. We fought. He ran for it, and this branch sort of fell on him.”

“Sort of fell on him?”

“Well, it might have fallen, or a big, half-naked angel might have dropped it on him. But then, I might have been seeing things. Two concussions in three days makes it hard to tell.”

“Angel? Yeah, I think we can safely assume you were seeing things.”

She laughed, and it must have hurt because it turned into a wheeze. Shane took her hand. She was cold, abnormally so. He pulled the spare blanket up from the foot of the bed and laid it on her.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“What about your stowaway?”

“You mean Sue? She’s gone. Went into the light. Literally.”

“You know when you’re coherent again, we’re going to have a chat about all this.”

She reached up and patted him on the cheek. “Whatever. Now make yourself useful and go smuggle me in some soda.”

"I’m in hoopskirt hell,” I declared, hoisting a tray of lemon bread into the air.

The kitchen was massive, but still not big enough to comfortably contain a dozen waiters and chefs. My mother stood behind the counter, her pre-Civil War era dress covered with a plain white apron. As soon as the last of the waiters ducked under my arm, I set the tray on the granite counter and tugged hopelessly at the back of my gown.

Beside me, Heather swished in the door, her giant skirt making her already tiny waist look artificially thin. “What, you don’t like the dress?” she teased.

“I have an itch,” I groaned, grabbing a wooden spoon and shoving it down between my shoulder blades.

She rolled her eyes. “Here, let me.” She grabbed the spoon and wiggled it side to side.

I sighed in relief.

“Better?”

I pulled out the spoon and tossed it into the sink full of soapy water with a splash. My mother slapped my hand.

“Manners,” she scolded.

My mother could easily have fit right into the old South. Her hair was perfectly coifed into a bun with strategic height from careful teasing. Her hands were flour from finger to elbow as she rolled out handmade dough on the counter. I grabbed a raspberry tart and tossed it into my mouth.

“Msorry,” I mumbled around the bite.

“So, how are you holding up?” Heather asked softly, just low enough my mother couldn’t hear.

I shrugged. “I’ve been better. Thank goodness Phoebe is so good with makeup or I’d look like a zombie stuffed in a ball gown.”

Phoebe had spent an hour carefully layering various shades of concealer and foundation to create a makeup mask over my face. It was thick and heavy, but better than the alternative, which was having my mother and every other person in the place stop me to ask what happened.

“What about the other stuff?”

I knew what she wanted to hear, but I wasn’t ready to put words to it yet. I was holding it together. When a break was that new and tender, I found it was best not to go poking at it. It would heal up, but there would be scars. New scars to cover old ones.

“I’m fine.”

Heather gave me a nudge that meant she understood, and she was there if I needed her. Funny how sometimes you didn’t actually have to speak to communicate, especially with sisters.

Mom shook her head, apparently deciding she didn’t have the time to lecture me further, and refilled my tray.

“Just take these out, please.” She said the wor
d
pleas
e
like a command rather than a request and went back to kneading dough.

I hoisted the tray, grateful I’d at least been allowed to wear comfy sneakers under the massive yellow and green gown, and plastered on my best fake smile before pushing my way back into the jungle.

The house was one of the more grand estates in Charleston, which was saying something. My entire house would have easily fit into one of the six bathrooms. Weaving through the crowd, I made my way toward a familiar face. Xavier was standing, glass of champagne in hand, chatting with Delacore Evermills, one of the oldest and most rotund of the historical society. The pink taffeta dress struggled to hold in her large bosom, which she seemed to thrust toward Xavier at every opportunity. To his credit, he remained the consummate gentleman, kind and aloof in the same breath. The Confederate uniform was molded to his body as if it had been tailored just for him, which, come to think of it, it probably had. I made my way to them as gracefully as possible, considering I kept knocking into people with my obnoxiously round hoopskirt.

“Lemon cake?” I asked, letting my natural southern accent flow to the surface. Most of the time, I barely had a trace of the drawl, but I could call upon it full force when I wanted to. Delacore flushed, fanning herself with a feather stick that looked somewhat less than period appropriate.

“Mmmm, these are simply heavenly. You must give your mama my compliments, child.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear it straight from your lips, Miss Evermills. She’s just over in the kitchen. I’m sure it would mean the world to her if you could take a second and pop in on her.” I smiled sweetly.

She looked to Xavier, then back to me, obviously torn between leaving him and being rude. “Of course. I should go say hello.”

She excused herself and made for the kitchen. Something told me it was the idea of more tiny desserts that prompted the decision more than anything.

Xavier leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Saved by the Lemon cake. I owe you one, Isabel.”

I shrugged. “Just doing my civil duty. Besides, I wanted to tell you the news. I tracked down Melanie’s aunt. She’s sweet, a bit ‘round the bend though. She has full-time nurses helping take care of her. A move away from familiar things might not be great for her, but supervised visits might be nice. And as for her attitude toward vampires, she told me, ‘If the good Lord ain’t right with ‘em, that’s twixt them and the Lord. I ain’t got no bin’essin the middle’. She’s a really funny old lady. Emphasis on th
e
ol
d
.”

“I see. Thank you for that.” He took a sip of the golden bubbles.

Guilt gnawed at my stomach. It’d been weeks and there was still no sign of Devon. I’d been searching, and I knew Xavier was driving himself crazy, but there was just nothing. It was as if he just vanished into thin air.

I switched tray hands. “Well, I gotta go. No rest for the wicked.”

He grabbed my arm gently. “Before you go, I have to ask. You and Shane? Has he taken you off the market?”

The blood in my veins froze. My heart stuttered, as if trying to pump the ice through my veins was too much to bear.

Shane had waited until I was out of the hospital. He tucked me into bed my first night home and sat beside me. I knew just by looking at the pained expression on his face that I wasn’t going to like what he had to say, and boy, had I been right.

He said a lot of words like ‘not the right time’ and ‘I deserved a real life’ and ‘shouldn’t have to sacrifice’. But what he meant was simple. He didn’t want me. Not really. He wanted Sue or someone like her. The moment I was back to myself, he remembered why he didn’t want to be with me.

The walls I’d built between us slammed back up in an instant. He could make up as many excuses as he wanted. Mercy, Xavier, even my limited life span. But the truth was obvious. Like it or not, that person wasn’t me. Maybe it was once, before I realized how hard and cruel the world really was. But I couldn’t go back to that. And he didn’t want the me that I was now, not really. He was just too kind to say it.

I forced a smile. “I wasn’t exactly myself that week.”

“So I heard.”

I shrugged off his hand. “We are back to the status quo. Partners and friends. That’s all.”

“Then could I convince you to let me take you for another meal? I promise this one won’t be so rudely interrupted.”

I opened my mouth to say no, I really did. But that wasn’t what came out.

“I’d like that.”

Inside, some small, bitter part of me cheered. Shane might not want today Isabel, but Xavier sure seemed to like her. Maybe it was time to let myself be with someone who really wanted me. Heaven knew I could feel the pull whenever Xavier and I got near each other. Maybe it wasn’t just lust. Maybe it was more, or maybe it could be. Maybe I could let it be.

He bowed formally, and I headed back into the crowd. I was still chewing my lip, half embarrassed, half excited about my impending date with Shane’s boss, when I sa
w
hi
m
.

He slipped between two costumed ladies, his teal blue eyes darting toward a long hallway off the main room. Smirking at me, he deposited his champagne flute on a passing tray and moved out of the room. I set my own tray on a nearby end table next to a tall floral arrangement and followed.

He kept walking, not looking back, around the corner and into a large library. I stepped inside and he appeared behind me, closing the door gently.

“You,” I said, my heart firing rapidly.

“Me,” he admitted, splaying his hands.

I took a step back. The smell coming off him was bitter, like grain liquor, and strong enough to knock out a frog.

“Who are you?”

“Melephilious.”

“Okay
,
wha
t
are you?”

“Oh, I think you know.”

I circled, trying to get between him and the door, as he watched me curiously.

“If I had to guess,” I said, “I’d say angel?”

“I’
m
you
r
guardian angel, to be exact.”

That stopped me. I grabbed a thick, old book off the nearest shelf and chucked it at his head.

He dodged it narrowly. “What was that for?”

I threw another book. Again, it just missed the target. “Are you freaking kidding me? I was possessed, knocked out, locked in a trunk with a dead body, tied to a tree, possessed again, and almost killed. And that was just this month!” I threw another book. This one landed, nailing him in the stomach.

“Stop throwing things at me, you crazy woman!”

“And are you drunk? What kind of crappy angel are you, anyway?”

“Hey, I saved your life.”

“You mean, dropping that branch? Hell, the police thought I did that. I almost went to jail! Oh, and he was running away!”

He huffed. “You have a real problem with gratitude, you know that?”

I walked up and slapped him hard in the face. To my surprise, he just stood there, absorbing the blow.

“You can’t hurt me.”

I laughed. “But I can have a lot of fun trying!”

He grabbed my wrists. “That’s enough.”

“So
,
Me
l
, why is it you are showing yourself to me now?”

He paused, glaring at me. “I didn’t do it. You did. Something happened while you were possessed. You must have come very close to crossing over to have been able to see me.”

“Oh sure, like it’s my fault. Typical.” I put my hands on my bustle. “So what do you want? Or are you just here to angel stalk me?”

“You are incredibly disrespectful.”

I sighed. “I’m just tired. My life was supposed to be normal. Yet here I am, living with a dead guy, recently possessed, talking to my lazy-ass guardian angel. I have officially run out of patience with all of it. So whatever you’re here for, you best spill it now before I walk out of that door and never look back.”

He shifted, backing up against the wall and leaning on it. I couldn’t see his wings under his brocade coat, but I knew they were there. It should have given me pause, made me feel reverent, but all it did was piss me off. It was confirmation there was a God, and that he didn’t give a crap about me.

“That’s not true. You are very important to Him.”

I threw my hands up. “Oh, and you can read minds too. Great.”

“Isabel, I’m here because you are about to come up against something very dangerous, more so than anything you’ve ever imagined. I’m here to help you beat it.”

Somewhere inside, the hysterical urge to cover my ears and chan
t
I can’t hear yo
u
bubbled up. All I could do was double over with gasping laughter. He stepped forward and put a hand on my back. Instantly, I felt a rush of warmth spread through my body. It was like a strong shot of whiskey, tingling as it moved through me. Steadying my nerves. I up-righted myself, brushing down the front of my corset.

“Sorry. I had a moment.”

He smiled, blue eyes shining. “You deserved it.”

I tilted my head side to side, cracking my neck. “So what am I up against?” I asked, one hundred percent sure I didn’t actually want the answer.

He lowered his chin, the humor vanishing from his face. “What do you know about Devon Savage?”