Games of Zeus 02- Silent Echoes (20 page)

“Boys, now, let’s be on our best behavior for your grandmother.” His mom clicked her nails against the surface of the nurse’s desk before asking for Mae Sands.

“Hey, bro.” Michael crooked a finger at Ian.

Ian leaned in close.

“You remember Jessie from way back when?”

“Little nerd girl from next door?” Ian asked.

“Yeah. She works here. If you see her, I’m not here. Got that?”

Ian furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“Long, long, long, long time ago story.”

A chuckle came from a room down the hall and had Ian turning his head. “I think I know where Grams is.” He didn’t even wait but grabbed Taylor’s hand and pulled her with him. “Dibs!”

“Why are we hurrying?” she asked.

Ian shot a glance over his shoulder. “Because if I don’t get you in there and introduce you to Grams, they will, and it’ll go like, ‘Ian’s brought a woman with him, Grams. Aren’t you surprised?’ and it’ll go on and on and on like that.” They reached the door as the shuffle of feet hurried behind them.

After the knock, Gram’s voice called out, “Come in already. What are you waiting for?”

Ian passed through the curtain, Taylor in tow.

“Ian!” Grams’s wrinkly old-lady face lit up. Her gray hair had been slicked back into a bun just as she liked it. Deep-set, mocha eyes brightened, and she pulled her standard red robe tight around her shoulders before holding out her arms.

He slipped from Taylor’s grip, but waved her forward as he dove in for a hug only Grams could give. For a ninety-six year old, her embrace rivaled that of a WWF wrestler.

“Why are you in here, Grams?” Ian asked.

“Boy, I don’t know.” She patted his cheek. “They just keep saying they want to make sure nothing’s broken, yet I already been through so many tests and x-rays … can’t they tell already?” She patted his other side. “Enough about me, though. Who’s this doll you’ve brought with you?”

Ian turned to Taylor, waved her forward and slid his palm against hers. “This is Taylor Marsh, Grams. She’s … ah … she’s my girlfriend.” Saying it out loud sent happiness through him.

Grams motioned with a finger for Taylor to come near. “Let me look at you, dear.”

Taylor stepped forward but didn’t let go of Ian’s hand.

“Lean down here.”

She did as asked, shooting glances at Ian.

Grams cupped Taylor’s chin in her palm, turned her head right and left as if studying her form and figure like a horse. Ian expected her to ask Taylor to show off her teeth at any moment.

“You’re a nice fine specimen there, aren’t you?”

Taylor chuckled. “Specimen, ma’am?”

“Ooh! We got us a southern girl. Ian, you did this right. You’re heading back to the roots.” She patted his hand, leaving Taylor to stand upright again.

“Grams, I don’t have anyone.” Ian turned to Taylor. “She’s got me.”

The door to the room opened with a cursory ‘knock-knock’ said by Ian’s mom. “Sorry, Mama Sands, but we gave you all three whole minutes to schmooze before we just had to come in.”

“Now, Georgia, you know I’m fine. Don’t know why I’m in here, and why ya’ll came up, though if we can go home, I’d like that a lot.” Grams pushed up as if to rise.

Everyone in the room started forward, holding out their hands as if to press her back down.

“Now, Mama,” Dad said. “You know the docs here are good. I promised you’d be on your best behavior if we came up to say ‘hi’.”

She leaned back into the pillow and straightened her gown. “At my age, if it ain’t broke, good. If it is, well, make it so I can get around. I’ll stay until three in the p.m., and you three can take me home.” She nodded to Michael, Ian and their dad in succession.

“Let’s just wait and see what the professionals say, Mama,” his dad said. “Oh, and on that note, let me step out.” He nodded to Taylor. “I’ll be back in ten … or if I’m gone longer, I’ve probably been suckered into some treats by a candy striper, and no one should come looking for me.” He winked before the door closed behind him.

“Fine. Fine.” Grams crossed her hands over her lap. “I want to know more about this beauty Ian has graced me with.” One hand patted the bed on the far side, nearest Michael.

Without even saying anything to her, Taylor hitched a hip up and sat on the side of the bed.

“So, darling. Ian a courtin’ ya yet?”

Taylor bit at her lips as if to tamp down her smile, though Ian knew his grandmother would love every inch of the expression. “I’m not much into … courting.”

“Just like his daddy. After the one girl, and she gave in way too soon.”

Ian’s mom chuckled behind her hand. Michael flopped into the visitor’s chair.

Grams turned to him. “You over there.”

He sat upright. “Yeah, Grams?”

“You need to take a lesson from this here brother of yours. Don’t wait until you’re ancient to marry right. I had my Reginald for sixty years, I did.” She rubbed at her finger where she still wore her centuries-old ring—one given to Ian’s Grandpa by his mother and passed down. Only Ian’s dad hadn’t used it, saying his mom should keep it until her last breath.

“I’ll watch every one of Ian’s moves, Gram.” Michael sent a wink Ian’s way.

Ian offered him an eye roll in return.

“Any advice on these boys, Ms. Sands?”

“Oh, darling, call me Grams. Everyone does. As for advice? Well, they’re good boys. Anyone tells you otherwise, you send them to me.”

Taylor’s soft laugh and touch to his Gram’s hand broke any resolve Ian had at keeping Taylor just out of reach of himself.

The door opened behind them, Ian’s dad returning with a vial and unopened needle. “Miss Marsh? Care to join me in the room next door?” He gave Taylor a wink and shook the package.

Ian’s mom coughed into her hand. “I-I—”

“Oh, you go on, dear,” Grams said. “We all know. Michael—” She pointed one wrinkled finger his way. “Take your mom out to those vending machines, and buy her a strong drink.”

Michael stood, took his mom’s elbow and escorted her out the door.

“You come on back once you’re done there.” Grams nodded to Taylor as she exited with Ian’s dad. “Now. You. Boy. Sit.” She patted the side of her bed.

Ian did as told.

Gram’s hands came together, her fingers running between the others until she plucked her ring off her finger and held it out. “Gimme your palm now, Ian.”

He held it out as demanded.

She dropped the ring to it, grabbed his hand and curled his fingers around it. “I’m ninety-six years old, Ian. I know things.” She tapped her temple. “I know when a man loves a woman so much he can’t see straight. You might not know it yet, but it’ll be there.”

“Grams—”

“Shush, boy. That one there?” Her head swayed back and forth. “Somethin’s there. Back in my day, we called it magic.”

Ian toyed with the ring. “Grams, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.” Her finger tapped his knee. “Your daddy didn’t want to take my ring because I was still alive.”

Ian held back his comment about her current state.

“But, your Grandpop, well, he gave me this ring with the instruction to pass it on.”

“When you die, Grams, not now.” Ian held it out. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“How ’em I gonna pass it on then, boy? If I’m dead?” Grams chuckled her sweet old-lady sound. “And, I’m countin’ on bein’ ‘round for another, oh … four years at least. Got to show up the world and get my presidential birthday card.”

“Then, I can’t take this—”

She shot him a glare from which a Navy SEAL would have cowered. “You sassin’ me, boy?”

Ian’s lips twitched. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s right. Hand me that.” She pointed toward a small bag on the table across from the bed. After he’d handed it to her, she unzipped it and rifled through. Ian could only hope she wouldn’t have more to force upon him. Her fingers dawdled until she leaned back with a contended sigh, a Mickey Mouse ring in place of the other on her finger. “Now, that’s better. He gave me that one, too, for our fiftieth wedding anniversary.” With a nod, she closed her eyes and smiled. “We went to Disney together. What a fabulous trip.”

The door swished a second later. “Grams!” Michael said. “You’re sprung, old lady.”

She popped open her lids. “Finally, someone talked some sense into them docs.”

Despite Michael’s excitement, his face held a hint of worry.

Ian recognized it well.

An orderly came in wheeling a chair in front of him. “All righty, Mrs. Sands. Let’s get you home.”

Michael tilted his head toward Ian. “Outside.”

• • •

Michael pushed Ian to the hallway’s wall. Staff milled about, laughter rang through the air, but the scent of antiseptic permeated the space.

Ian spun them so he could keep an eye on Gram’s door for when they brought her out. “What do you need, Michael?”

“Um … this is going to sound really weird, but I got a call from Marcie—on the team testing that bone?”

“Yeah?” As Ian acknowledged his brother, Taylor and his dad stepped from the other room.

“Well … they’re still running tests, but they did this one quick one, and they look for these markers and—” He blew out a breath. “And, well, they all match.” His finger scratched at the side of his head.

“Match what?” Ian’s heart stumbled as Taylor smiled.

“Um … Taylor’s DNA matches the DNA from the bone … for those markers.”

“What? How’s that possible? Isn’t that as unique as fingerprints?”

“Yeah. It is. Unless she’s an identical twin. Thus why they think something went wrong.” Michael wrung his hands. “We’re all still in school, man. Marcie’s got the most experience of us all, but maybe you guys need to let the pros do this stuff.”

“Do it again.”

Taylor joined them as Michael finished up. “Do what again? You two look like you’re conspiring.”

Without a thought, Ian wrapped his arm around Taylor’s waist and pulled her against him. “Nope. Just chitchatting about Grams going home.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I am,” the woman of the moment said. “And none too soon, I must tell you. These hospitals are full of germs I don’t need.”

Taylor turned toward Grams, a smile on her face. Before she rounded the halfway point, her face went slack, and her body collapsed to the ground.

20

Her body lays across a pyre but not in effigy. A single flame flies toward the mound, thrown by his own hand. As the fire grows upon the rise, he stands at its edge—a perimeter made for a single witness.

Orange bleeds into blue. Blue to red. The colors sear the wood, smoldering and igniting under her unmoving form. Each lick of flame emboldens him.

Searing heat licks her toes and dances its way toward her ankles, thighs and arms. Her body jolts, though she does not attempt escape—the centerpiece to her own life’s finale.

His lips curve upward.

A scream fills the air, sending birds to the sky—the flapping of wings barely audible over the building inferno’s roar.

He bristles—a momentary worry she may rise from death’s clutches.

The blaze accepts her body as its fuel. Kindling snaps. Sparks fly upward, adding to the smoke-fogged air.

He twirls a single red rose between his fingertips, thorns digging into his pads. His gaze remains fixed on the fire, and the woman who can no longer be defined.

Deer run from one side of the clearing to the other, away from the unceasing heat. Not even nature wishes to be beholden to the man, yet it cannot separate itself from his deed.

A bellow sounds from the center of the pile as it collapses upon itself. Cascading rivers of liquid flow along the sides.

The fire sings, whistling a deep tune and claiming, for itself, everything within its reach.

He remains in place, a grin reaching across his face, growing with each crackle.

Each pop.

“In death, we have parted.” The rose twists between his fingers until flakes and dust settle in the center of the destruction, a wide circle where once her body laid as if at rest.

A dying spark sustains itself as if holding out hope for more fuel. He crushes it underfoot, stomping out the final vestiges of life on the scorched patch of earth. “No man, save me, shall ever have your love.”

A flicker of blue catches his eye. On bent knee, he runs a fingertip over a soft, velvet square. That it survived the fury surprises him, yet he does not react, for he has already accomplished his mission.

He holds out the rose, its bloom full and bright. It hovers above the center of ash. “Never again will you betray me.” Decisive contempt fuels his voice.

He opens his hand.

The flower drops to the ground, sending puffs of white ash into the air.

“The betrayer reaps her own sorrows.”

Her demise is his success.

• • •

Taylor could no longer differentiate between realities. Words held no meaning. Time meant nothing. Fire consumed her. For all she knew, her body laid across a pile of wood. She tried to move, yelled and screamed at herself to fight, to rise, to depart.

None of it worked.

Tanner’s face etched itself in her mind’s eye. That followed with Ian’s. Round and round they went, mixing and merging within her dream state.

Flames.

Bath.

Falling house.

Fire.

Water.

Earth.

The hotter the air flamed around her, the more she cried out. Whether sound escaped, she didn’t know. Encompassed by flames, soaring and shooting into the sky, and crying out within her mind, she managed to turn enough to take in a blaze around her. To see it grab her calves, circle her arms and melt her skin.

A form stood to the side—the silhouette of a man she’d loved for centuries.

She called for John over and over, begging him to stop. To help. To cease. To save her. To kill her.

If her heart could tear in two, it would have. The only emotions she had left sizzled as the fire took everything away.

Her view moved to pure darkness.