Exit Light (23 page)

The moment her gaze broke from Edward’s, her shallow grip on the world around her broke. The edges of everything blurred. For the first time she realized something else.

“The mountain,” she murmured. “I’m
on
the mountain.”

The mountains that had always been in the distance the other times the Ephemeros rocked were under her feet. She’d been gripping the world to keep it still, but could she? Against a shaper as strong as Edward?

“Fuck this shit.” Kevin’s college-age words spilled from his mouth as he pushed Tovah aside.

He was already swinging a fist before Tovah could shout a warning. It crunched against Edward’s chin, driving him backward with his arms outstretched. He stepped back, then again. When he straightened he did it slowly, a spring with coils pulled to looseness that could no longer maintain its shape.

He turned to Kevin. “Don’t do that again.”

Kevin didn’t stop. “Make me—”

Edward did no more than flick his gaze toward Kevin, and Kevin stopped talking. Kevin choked and went to his knees. Edward looked at Tovah.

“You wanted to see my true face?”

Edward had a body. Arms. Legs. Torso. He had a head. But his face now consisted of the swirling grayness of the Ephemeros. Of nothing waiting to be created into something. She’d asked him to show her his true face.

He had none.

“You see, sweetheart?” His voice hadn’t changed. “I can be whatever you want me to be. All you have to do is decide.”

Indecision tore at her. He was offering her a dream come true, a perfect partner. But at what price?

“Edward,” she whispered. “I already have.”

“Nothing really matters, then. Does it?”

Edward turned his no-face toward her. Tovah began to scream.

Hands shook her. She fought them, punching and scratching and slapping while she screamed. And screamed.

Her scream cut off as abruptly as a slamming door when she looked into Martin’s face. Max barked ferociously from somewhere in the house. In moments she heard the massive thud of the big dog’s footfalls and the solidness of his body hitting the doorway.

The couch dipped beneath her as Martin’s weight shifted and he stood. He turned. Max rounded the corner from the front hall, skidded on the tile floor and launched himself into the den. In seconds he’d come to rescue her from the man trying to do the same.

“Max, no!”

Too late. Max had already chomped Martin’s hand. Martin yelled and yanked free. Blood and spittle flew, splashing Tovah’s face. She swiped at it in disgust, blinking.

Trying to figure out if she was really awake.

“Max, down! Down!”

Max’s growl sounded like a motor revving, higher and lower. He menaced Martin with bared teeth, but made no move to jump him again. Martin, who’d fallen back onto the ottoman, cradled his bleeding hand close to his chest heedless of the way it stained his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Tovah began, grabbing tight hold of Max’s collar. “He must have thought you were hurting me—”

“I thought someone was murdering you.” Martin’s voice was hoarse, a little shocked. “Max, boy. It’s me.”

Max growled again. The dog’s muscles quivered under her hand, but he didn’t pull away from her. Which was good, since she wasn’t sure she could hold him. She struggled upright, careful not to knock her stump again. She didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch.

“I had a nightmare,” she said. “Oh, God, Martin, I’m so sorry. You’d better get that cleaned up. Give me a minute and I’ll help you.”

Martin shook his head. “I can do it. You stay put.”

“Max. Go lie down.” Tentatively, Tovah released the dog’s collar. Max thumped over to his bed and lay down with a baleful look toward Martin. Tovah twisted to look at Martin, who was running water over his hand at the sink.

Tovah looked at the screen door. The hook and eye lock she rarely used had been pulled straight out of the wood and dangled, loose. Martin must have come through it at top speed.

“You were screaming.” Martin pulled a hand towel from the hook on the cupboard and wrapped it around his hand. He turned to her. “I was taking out the trash, and I heard you screaming. I thought…”

He sat, suddenly, in one of her kitchen chairs. His head drooped, words trailing off into a slur. He took a deep breath and put his head between his legs.

“Oh, shit.” Tovah struggled to grab her crutches and get to her feet. She made it to him with a vast amount of awkward effort but very little time. “Are you okay?”

Martin said nothing. Small red dots decorated the hand towel. Tovah grabbed up the dishcloth from the drawer and ran cold water on it, then pressed it to the back of his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again, maneuvering into the chair across from his. “God, Martin, Max has never bitten anyone. I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly he raised his head. “He was trying to protect you, that’s all. I don’t blame him. But shit, it hurts.”

At the sound of his name, Max had lifted his head and whined. Now he padded toward them on thickly furred feet. He pushed against Tovah’s hand and then nosed tentatively toward Martin, who flinched. Max retreated to his haunches, tongue lolling.

“You need to get that looked at by a doctor. Max has had all his shots, but even so, animal bites almost always get infected.” Tovah paused at the irony of her lecture. “But I guess you know that.”

“I might have heard something like that before,” Martin said.

She’d meant that he knew it because he was a doctor, but his answer made her remember that he’d told her about being bitten in the past. “I can’t apologize enough. You were only trying to help me.”

“You were screaming,” Martin repeated softly.

“I was dreaming.” The horror of it washed over her again, and she shuddered. Tears fought her eyes and won, sliding over her cheeks. She put her hands over her face and struggled against weeping. “I was only dreaming.”

The phone rang. She and Martin both looked at it. The kitchen phone was ancient, green to match the kitchen’s 1970s décor, and still attached to the wall by a long spiraling cord. It was too far away for her to reach, and she was in no position to jump up to get it. Martin solved her dilemma with a casual reach of his unbitten hand. He snagged the handset and passed it to her without a word.

Tovah looked at the clock. Just past midnight. “Hello?”

It took her a moment to decipher the voice on the other end, but after a second it clicked. “Spider?”

His voice sounded thick and swollen, like he spoke through a mouthful of molasses. “Tovahleh. Did I wake you?”

“No.” She looked at the clock again, just to make sure she was awake. The entire night had taken on a surreal quality. “I’m awake. But Henry…so are you!”

“I’m awake, doll.”

“Henry, what’s wrong?”

Martin had leaned in close. The hand towel fell away, exposing the angry red punctures Max’s teeth had left. The phone at his belt beeped, and he pulled it from his belt to check the text message.

Henry’s answer was so garbled she couldn’t make it out. Hissing static fused the line, covering up his words. It cleared, but he’d stopped speaking.

“Henry? Something’s wrong with the phone.”

“Nothing…phone…”

Frustrated, Tovah shook the handset, as if that would help with the connection. “Henry? Are you there? What’s going on? How’d you get permission to call me this late? Are you all right? Henry!”

He’d gone. The dial tone replaced static, and Tovah let the handset fall to the table. She looked at Martin, who was already hanging up the phone for her.

“Henry’s awake. Really awake.”

Martin held up his phone. “The hospital just called me.”

“You have to go.” She nodded, stunned and worn out from the night’s adventures—in both worlds. “I have to get there, too. I have to see him.”

“Tovah, it’s after midnight. You know they won’t let you.”

She shook her head. “They will if I’m with you. Please, Martin. It’s important. Very important. I need to see him. Before—”

“Before he goes back to sleep?” Martin’s soft voice rubbed itself over her skin, and she couldn’t stop thinking of the taste of his mouth and how stupid she’d been.

“You know it’s more than a possibility. It’s a likelihood.”

Martin stared at her in silence for what seemed a very long time before he looked away. “C’mon. I’ll take you.”

“Martin,” she said softly and waited until he’d looked at her again. “Thank you.”

Martin was a good driver. Conscientious, never failing to put on his signal or stop completely at every stop sign, even though the traffic on the road was next to zero. His hands firmly grasped the wheel at the correct positions. He looked carefully both ways at every intersection, not just once, but twice.

Even so, urgency and anxiety made Tovah want to squirm. She resisted by clasping her hands tightly in her lap. She stared straight ahead, tensing at every flare of red taillights in front of them. Her seat belt was a comforting tightness against her chest, but she fought the urge to grab at the handhold each time the car sped up.

“Are you okay?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught the motion of Martin’s head as he glanced at her. “Just a little edgy. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t ask again. He reached to turn on the radio so music filled the space between them instead of silence. Outside, it had begun to rain.

The road emptied, leaving them the only car making the journey through mostly darkness. They hadn’t yet turned off the main road onto the smaller local streets that led to the Sisters of Mercy, but the streetlamps had disappeared. The road unwound before them like a long dark ribbon.

She knew this song. It was a Celtic piece, full of the mournful wail of uilleann pipes. It was something like a lullaby, though perhaps one meant to sing to a child whose sleep was never going to end. Her hands crept up to press her belly, briefly and without conscious effort, though she at once put them back in her lap.

The sound of the rain was like a lullaby, too. The soft shush-shush of a mother soothing a fretful babe. The tires purred along the road, going round and round just like the wheels on the bus…the wheels on the bus…

Her tension eased one muscle at a time. She still heard the rain, the music, the tires rolling. She still saw the road ahead and the occasional flash of another vehicle’s lights. They simply no longer had the power to tighten her nerves.

They drove a long, long time.

The car slowed. It stopped.

Tovah turned her head to face the driver. The light from the parking lot lamp cut across Martin’s face in bars of silver edged with shadow. One eye flared a blue almost painful in its brightness. The other stayed a faded gray, shielded by darkness.

“You shouldn’t have to be afraid,” he whispered. “See? I wish you’d let me help you not be so afraid.”

Words snuck around her mouth before tripping from her lips. “You can’t help me not be afraid.”

His hand reached, fingertips brushing her cheek. “I can, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

Tovah startled awake. Martin had pulled into the parking lot. Lights blazed from all the windows of the immense brick building in front of them, and cars circled the lot even at this hour gone so late it had become early.

Where had the peace gone, the light and shadow?

“Tovah?”

“Sorry, I must have dozed off.” She scrubbed her face, hoping she hadn’t drooled and glad for the chance to feel for a blush.

She had no right to dream of Martin as her savior. Not after the game of back and forth she’d played with him. Hell, not even if she hadn’t pushed him away. Nobody deserved that much responsibility.

Look what it had done to Spider.

Martin grabbed her crutches from the back seat and waited patiently as she hoisted herself out of his car. Neither of them had bothered with an umbrella but the rain of earlier had turned to a fine, light mist that coated her hair and coat within moments with damp. Tovah balanced using the open car door, then settled her crutches under her arms and started toward the hospital.

The last time she’d been there after visiting hours, she’d been a patient. The staff had changed, but the feeling the hospital got in the wee hours hadn’t. Buildings in which people who were supposed to be sleeping stayed awake always had a certain vibe.

Security shouldn’t have let her through, really, even though she was with Martin, who had a staff ID badge. Tovah tensed for a confrontation. She wasn’t above threats. She could toss around legal and medical jargon, whip out proof she was Henry Tuckens’s guardian. Cause trouble.

“Dr. Goodfellow.” The guard nodded, his eyes flickering past Tovah without stopping. “And a guest?”

“Thanks, Terry.” Martin tucked his ID back into his shirt pocket.

The guard turned back to his newspaper and bag of popcorn. Tovah waited until they were on the elevator, doors closed behind them, before she said, “How’d you do that?”

Martin pushed the button for Five. “Do what?”

“With the guard. He should’ve given us a harder time than that. What did you do?”

Martin shrugged. “Some people don’t take their jobs seriously, I guess.”

“Jedi mind trick?” Tovah asked, watching him refuse to look at her.

Martin looked at her then, his pupils wide and dark in the elevator’s fussy, flickering light. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You have a way, don’t you?” she murmured. “With people.”

The doors opened. Martin pushed a hand against them to keep them from closing before she could get off, and this, yet another example of his constant consideration, proved to her again he was a good man. He waited until she was through before stepping through himself and waited again to make sure she was moving smoothly before walking after her.

Despite the hour, or perhaps because of it, Five was alive with activity. Staff moved purposefully from room to room, always in pairs and armed with trays of small plastic cups and gleaming silver needles.

“What’s going on in here?” Martin snagged a passing orderly Tovah didn’t recognize.

“Full moon? Hell if I know,” said the orderly with a shake of his head. “It’s been a madhouse since that dude on the end decided to join the land of the living.”

“It’s always a madhouse,” Martin said without a trace of irony.

“Yeah, well, it’s even worse tonight.” The orderly shook off Martin’s hand and headed into a room from which a flurry of shouting had started.

Martin didn’t wait for her this time. He stalked down the hall, his long legs taking him twice as fast as she could hobble. He pushed through the door to Henry’s room. The door hissed shut behind him on its pneumatic hinge, clicking entirely closed just as Tovah reached it.

She grabbed the handle but paused to listen for shouting or cries from inside before opening it. She heard plenty of commotion, but it all came from outside, not Henry’s room. Tovah pushed open the door.

“Henry?”

He and Martin stood by the window, their backs to her. Both turned as she said his name. Tovah would have run into his arms, had she been able, but Henry didn’t wait for her to try.

“Tovahleh.” He pushed past Martin without a second glance and came to her. “Look at you, doll. You’re a sight.”

Hugging around crutches and with only one leg was awkward, but they managed. Tovah didn’t mean to cry, but seeing him aware and awake was such a relief she couldn’t help it. Henry smelled of the soap she’d bought him, and of comfort. His chin rested neatly on the top of her head as he rubbed her back.

From outside his room, the sound of pounding feet filled the hall. Then a wail and a crash. Tovah looked, but Martin had already gone to peer out the door. He looked over his shoulder at them.

“I’d better go help.”

“What’s going on, Spider?” Tovah said when Martin had gone. “Why is everyone acting so—”

“Crazy?” Henry didn’t laugh. “It’s because they can’t wake up, Tovah.”