Chosen by Fate (33 page)

“Damn it,” Caleb gritted out. “Help me! Please.”

But despite his plea, no one answered.

Swiftly, Caleb spread her jacket open, wincing when he saw the damage to her flesh. Rising, he lunged for the basket of white hand towels by the sink, then methodically covered Wraith’s wound with a makeshift compress and applied pressure. Memories of his time on the battlefield crashed through him, of soldiers, human and Otherborn, moaning and writhing as they fought death.

Wraith was doing neither, but it was because she was unconscious, not because she was giving up. He wasn’t letting her give up.

“Get back, damn it!”

Caleb’s head swung around at the sound of Dex’s voice. Only then did he see the crowd gathered at the doorway.

“Move away from the door and let me the fuck through!” Dex pushed his way past the nearest gatherers. “Damn it,” he whispered. His gaze landed on Emmett then Wraith before meeting Caleb’s eyes.

Caleb shook his head. “I tried healing her . . . it won’t . . . she won’t . . .” Was that trembling voice really his, Caleb vaguely thought, or was it a voice from the crowd?

He didn’t recognize it.

Turning back to Wraith, he felt moisture gather in his eyes. She looked paler than normal, and unbelievably, her mouth was tilted up on one end in what could only be seen as a smirk. A twisted recognition that she was finally getting what she’d wanted. An end to her pain.

Pressing his lips together, Caleb shook his head. “No. You don’t need that now. You’re not alone, damn it, so don’t you dare leave.”

But when he checked, her pulse was thready. His own heart almost stopped when hers did. “Dex!”

Dex swiftly kneeled by Caleb’s side.

“Keep your hands on the compresses,” he snapped. “Tight.”

The were’s hands replaced his, and Caleb immediately moved to straddle Wraith. He positioned his hands over her heart and began pumping the organ for her. “I’m not letting you go, Wraith. Do you hear me? You’re not alone. You have me. You have the team. So stay with me, damn it. Stay with me.”

 

Grim, Dex watched O’Flare work on Wraith.

With her blood oozing through the cloth and through his fingers, Dex held no hope that Caleb would be bringing her back. The bullet had hit her vital organs, and somehow she’d obviously acquired not only the ability to bleed, but to die.

Vaguely, he wondered if Caleb had known. If he had, he knew exactly how Caleb would feel once he accepted Wraith was gone. He could see the terror and grief and guilt on the human’s face quite well.

Instinctively, Dex looked away, the emotion on O’Flare’s face too intense for comfort. He could still hear him, though, and the words that alternated between strong and angry, soft and pleading.

“Damn you, Wraith. Come on. You’re too big a bitch to give up. Come on, damn you. Please, come on.”

The crowd at the door shifted until, suddenly, the female vampire was there, her arms supporting Lucy, whose eyes were open now, but watching them with a blank expression that made Dex wonder how much she actually saw or understood. He didn’t have to wonder that about the vampire. Her beautiful features were set into a grave expression as she stared, not at his teammates, but at
him
. The knowledge of Wraith’s death was there, mirroring his own thoughts. And for once in his life, Dex hoped like hell his instincts were wrong.

P
ain surrounded Wraith. Although she tried to escape, to move physically away or to slip into her own mind and disappear, something was stopping her. Hands held her body down and a voice talked to her, refusing to give her the quiet she needed to slip away. It was the mage, she realized. Somehow he’d gotten her back.

Or maybe he’d never lost her.

Maybe the life she’d imagined in the past few years had all been a dream. A way for her body to cope with what he was doing with his knives and needles and hammers.

She’d never fought in the War.

She’d never been on the Para-Ops team.

She’d never met Caleb or been touched by him.

Loved by him.

A pathetic whimper escaped from her mouth, and she couldn’t even chastise herself.

He’d never said the words, but that’s what Caleb had made her feel like when he’d touched her. Like she was being loved. And it had all been her imagination. The thought hurt more than what the mage was doing to her.

“Wraith . . .”

She frowned when she heard the voice because it didn’t sound like the mage. It sounded like Caleb.

“Don’t leave me, Wraith. Stay with us. We need you. I need you.”

The words gave her the strength to try and open her eyes again. This time, when she did, she felt something jerk in her chest.

“Yes . . .” Caleb breathed. “That’s it, that’s it.”

Her lids flickered and she glimpsed light. Shadows hovering over her. Her vision cleared until she saw it. Her very own dark angel.

Caleb.

Then the darkness overtook her again.

A
s soon as Caleb got Wraith’s heart beating again and saw her eyes flicker with life, Dex had shown the club owner their IDs and cleared the place. Now the were glowered at Caleb, who’d gone back to kneeling next to Wraith on the bathroom floor.

“What do you mean, you’re not going to call Mahone?” Dex yelled. “Have you fucking lost your mind?”

Caleb glared up at Dex. “I’m telling you, it’s the best way. We pretend she died. That we both did . . .”

“That might not be too difficult given the way you’re bleeding out.”

He didn’t bother glancing down at the wound he couldn’t even feel. “It’s shallow. Hell, I can treat it myself. But listen to me, Dex. You’ve seen for yourself how Wraith has changed. She wasn’t letting anyone know and there must be a reason for that. And we don’t know what Mahone would do with her or the information. We need to talk to her first.”

“You and Wraith saved Mahone’s life, and you don’t trust him enough with this?”

“No,” he said calmly. “I don’t.”

They stared at each other for several seconds before Dex shook his head. “We need to get her to a hospital. You revived her, but her wounds aren’t closing.”

The were was right, but Caleb was a doctor and he
cared
about Wraith. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He knew what she’d want—time—and he was going to give it to her. “I know that, Dex.”

“Yeah. Did you know she was changing?”

Caleb pressed his lips together before reluctantly answering. “I saw the clues. I asked her about it but . . .” His voice trailed off when Dex laughed.

“Let me guess? You got distracted? Because maybe another thing had changed, too? Her ability to feel pain? So you fucked her instead of figuring out what the hell is going on with her?”

If he wasn’t so concerned about Wraith, Caleb would have met the were toe-to-toe. As it was, he snapped, “Back off, Dex. Now.”

“I’ll back off when you admit your dick led you someplace your head wouldn’t have.”

“And yours didn’t?” Caleb looked pointedly at Lucy, who was sitting next to the female vampire. The two of them were talking softly. A minute earlier, Caleb had checked Lucy and her vitals were normal. Her body was reacting as if she’d had a little too much to drink but was recovering.

“I did what I needed to do to help Lucy. What’s your excuse?”

“I’ll take Wraith back to another hotel. Make sure we aren’t followed. I can treat her there—”

“Had much experience treating wraiths? ’Cause I think—”

The vampire female cleared her throat, making both their heads jerk around. “As entertaining as this bickering is, it’s obvious neither of you knows what’s happening here. Let me enlighten you. The wraith is turning, but she hasn’t reached the point of no return. Not yet. Her body is simply taking longer to rejuvenate. Look, her wounds are starting to heal right now.”

Both Dex and Caleb dropped their gazes to Wraith’s body. Caleb swiped away some of the blood staining her skin. It was subtle, but the vampire was right. Wraith’s wounds had started to heal.

“You know what’s happening to her?” Caleb asked.

“She’s dying,” the vampire confirmed softly.

“But you just said her wounds—”

She shook her head. “Not now. Maybe not for a few months. But she’s ten, and before she’s eleven, she’s going to die.”

“How the hell do you know that?” Dex asked when Caleb clearly wasn’t able to speak.

“I knew a wraith once. She was . . . a friend.”

The way she said “friend” made Caleb immediately think they’d been lovers. “Did you know the wraith before her tenth year or only after?”

“After. I knew her only a month before it happened.”

“I’ve never heard—”

“It’s a closely guarded secret among wraiths. For obvious reasons.”

“Do you think she knew? What was coming, I mean?”

“She knew.”

Caleb glanced at Dex. “What if she knew in Korea? And before starting this mission? Why would she—”

“What else was she going to do?” Dex said. “Sit around and twiddle her thumbs?”

Lucy moaned and shifted. With effort, she sat up and raised a shaky hand to her head. “Dex . . .?”

Dex immediately moved to her side. The vampire smiled and rose. “You should sit with her.”

In a flash, Dex’s hand whipped out, and his fingers wrapped around the vampire’s wrist. “You’re not . . . I mean . . .” He coughed. “You’re leaving?”

With an arched brow, the vampire stared at the were’s fingers. “You don’t need me for anything else,” she said lightly. “Do you?”

Dex opened his mouth as if to protest, then slowly released her. She continued toward the door, then turned to Caleb. “Has she told you anything about who she is? Any memories that she’s had about her human life?”

“No. Does memory return in a wraith’s tenth year, as well?”

“I don’t know the answer to that question. But my friend, she was obsessed with finding out who she was. Became more and more so as the days went on. Is your wraith the same way?”

Caleb remembered how upset Wraith had been with Mahone when he’d changed the mission on her. “Yes, only I wouldn’t say she was becoming more obsessed with time . . .” In fact, now that he thought about it, Wraith had seemed to become
less
obsessed with that goal. She hadn’t even mentioned it again since he’d found her at the bus station, but that could simply be because she’d agreed to finish the mission.

What if finding out her identity had been more important than any of them had realized? What if, by dragging her to Los Angeles, he’d somehow turned her from a course that might have saved her?

He cursed even as the vampire seemed to read his thoughts. And maybe, despite the fact that it would be breaking a whole host of rules, she actually did. “It’s what all wraiths are obsessed with. Becoming more obsessed at the end of their lives makes sense. If they became wraiths because of something that happened in their human lives, then—”

“Why not link their deaths to the same thing, as well?” Caleb finished for her. “So what you’re saying is that not finding out what killed them as humans is probably what kills them as wraiths, too? That if they did know and resolved something in their lives, that might somehow stop the turnings and their eventual deaths?”

“It’s just a theory,” she murmured sadly. “I never had anyone to talk it out with before. No one who’d cared for a wraith the way I had. But you care about her. That’s obvious.”

Caleb was aware of Dex listening, his gaze still on the vampire. The were’s presence didn’t impede the swiftness of Caleb’s answer. “I care about her. More than anyone or anything,” he said.

The vampire’s smile radiated both pity and compassion. “Then you need to find out who she is. Fast.”

W
raith awoke in a comfortable bed with down pillows and a plush white comforter that smelled of lavender. The grittiness in her eyes and the fogginess in her brain made her think she must have slept again, but her body was achy and her head throbbed. If she’d slept, she should feel refreshed, not like she’d just been run over—if not by a semitruck, then at the very least a golf cart or an ATV.

She scanned the room until her gaze landed on Caleb, sitting in a chair near the foot of her bed. His expression was grim.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Wraith?”

She blinked at the anger in his voice. Instinctively got her defenses in place. “Tell you what?”

“You’re dying.”

Those two simple words knocked her defenses down with ease. Her eyes widened. “How did you—”

“Dex met a vampire with a certain degree of knowledge about your kind. Do you even remember last night?”

She struggled to get her mind working. Of course she remembered last night. They’d begun their surveillance at the club. She’d been talking to someone . . . Willie . . . no, Wilma . . . and she’d gone to the bathroom with her, right after she’d seen Caleb with the feline. Anger at the princess—at Caleb—made her hand itch to slap him, but then . . .

She jerked to a sitting position, wincing at the fire that flamed across her ribs. Falling back against the pillows, she took quick breaths of air (even as part of her still marveled that she could), trying to work through the pain so she could talk. “The . . . the bathroom . . . Someone attacked me!”

Caleb nodded grimly. “Emmett. The man I chased down at the restaurant. I should’ve killed him then, but don’t worry, I didn’t make the same mistake.”

She swallowed hard. She knew Caleb didn’t take killing lightly. The fact that his eyes held no remorse told her he’d kill Emmett again and again if he had the chance, each time using a method more painful than the last. That, as well as his touch, told her he cared about her. Told her that kissing the little cat at the nightclub had been more about protecting the mission and Wraith than about getting his rocks off. Even as that realization spread through her like warm honey, she forced herself to think about the attack. The mission. The things that, unlike her feelings for Caleb, could be analyzed and worked and controlled, given enough information.