Lailah (The Styclar Saga) (11 page)

He shifted his weight nearer to me, and the warmth of his body temptingly radiated toward me. “I should have been able to take it away, but you stopped too soon. I don’t know what happened. You were seeing the memory and I was watching along with you. I saw everything: your confusion, your fear, your helplessness.” His eyes grew larger. He moved his muscular arm behind my back and placed his hand on my scar. His expression was indecisive before he asked, “Did you feel it?”

I shuddered as his words hit me and, as was becoming almost habitual, he pulled me in to his chest, his hand squeezing my waist, comforting me. He was so warm I sank into him, contentment flowing through me.

“No,” I lied, saving him.

The lines in his forehead ironed out a little; he seemed relieved. I had lost the connection to Gabriel. He wouldn’t have been able to sense anything from me, I guessed. I had to choose to let him in. Unconsciously I must have blocked him out in time to spare him that at least. Or maybe transitioning back into my body had automatically cut him out. I didn’t know. How could I have been back in the past? Physically able to feel everything all over again? And if I were there again, did I have the power to change the memory, to do things differently? Or was I just trapped inside myself, unable to do anything but relive what had already happened?

“I was back here, in this room, beside you. Your scar began opening up and…” He stopped himself there.

“I know,” I replied, feeling for the gash on my head that had already healed itself.

“But how can that be? How can something that has already physically happened repeat itself, in the here and now? I don’t understand.…”

That made two of us. Only he was oblivious that when he disconnected, I stopped watching and began reliving it, locked in. He couldn’t know. If he did, then it would be obvious to him that I had felt every inch of that hook.

Silence drifted between us.

“You were all alone, suffering at his hands.” For a moment his face flashed, and as it cooled, sadness hung across his expression.

“I’m not alone now,” I offered softly.

He peered down at me. Skimming my cheek with the back of his fingers, gently he leaned in, close enough that I could feel his breath against my cheekbone. “Jonah is outside,” he mumbled, breaking the moment too soon.

Jonah didn’t bother to knock, flinging open the door and marching toward us. Then he faltered, seeing me nestled so closely to a shirtless Gabriel.

“Jonah,” Gabriel acknowledged him.

“I smelled blood.”

Rising to his feet, ignoring Jonah, Gabriel directed himself just to me. “It’s time I was leaving, Cessie.” He emphasized my nickname as if reminding me that I had to remain hidden; that no one else in this house should be aware of my supernatural self. I wasn’t about to disagree. For now, at least, I would wear my mask. I would continue to be Cessie.

Gabriel literally had to pry Jonah from my room, and I wondered for a moment why this Vampire, who had seemed so arrogant and disinterested in me at the start, was suddenly so concerned about me. I couldn’t help but think that perhaps he just wanted another taste of my blood.

The door slammed and without Gabriel next to me, a sharp prickle of loathing stabbed my consciousness. I felt invaded again. I had to cleanse my skin. Snatching the silk pajamas and dressing gown from the wardrobe, I tiptoed to the bathroom and ran a deep, boiling-hot bath.

Removing my clothes, I stepped inside, immersing myself in the clean water. Using the rosemary soap, I scrubbed and scrubbed, peeling off what felt like one layer of skin until my knuckles ached with the effort. Flexing my hands in front of me, I was surprised to find dirt embedded underneath my fingernails, where I’d clung to the damp mud in my struggle against Frederic.

I took a deep breath and sank under the water. I opened my eyes and breathed out of my nose, watching the pockets of air bubbles swirling around me. I thought about Frederic once more, careful not to dissolve too deeply into the memory, for fear I would lose control again.

I went straight to the image of the blaze instead—the next thing I could remember after I was blinded by those fierce eyes.

Lighting up the clearing in between the trees, it was Frederic who burned. I could suddenly smell him. I didn’t see it happen, but I didn’t have to; everything inside me told me that it was him. She’d ended him, the girl in shadow. It could only have been her, considering the expression that Frederic had worn, evidently realizing her power just before it happened. I didn’t know who she was; her face was always masked in the darkness. Nor did I know why she had saved me, why she seemed to appear in my times of crisis. Perhaps she followed me? Perhaps it was just some random, weird coincidence? And how had she healed me? The deep laceration had already closed and was scarring by the time the fire had faded out to ashes. I’d felt an odd sense of satisfaction as the flames had flickered against the blackness. I didn’t die; she’d fixed me immediately, somehow.

Pushing my body back out of the water, I sucked in the air, scraping my wet hair behind my back. I had to change my train of thought to happier things. I thought about Gabriel instead. He had come so close to me. If Jonah hadn’t interrupted, would he have kissed me? I couldn’t work out what he felt toward me. I could only wait for him to reveal more of himself to me. I hoped he would soon.

Tiredness sneaked up on me, so I decided to take a nap. It had been another long and eventful day, and it wasn’t even close to being over yet.

I patted my body dry, heat radiating from my skin. I slipped on the pastel-pink pajamas and stepped through the door back into the bedroom, drying my feet as I went. I approached the bed and saw that a tray sat at the bottom; a hot cup of tea, a cheese sandwich, pastries, and fruit tempted me. No sign of the chef, but I guessed it was Gabriel who was taking care of me. The warmth of the tea filled me and I enjoyed gorging on the fruit. As the crisp taste of the grapes danced on my taste buds, I felt revitalized.

I was so hungry. In a very unladylike manner, I scarfed piece after piece of fruit. A pocket of juice squirted out of my lips from the nectarine that I was chewing on, dribbling down my chin. I smudged my lips with the back of my hand. A thick, red liquid trickled down my knuckles, shocking me. Confused, I spat out the fruit. It looked perfectly normal.

Gripping the remnants of the nectarine in my hand, I nearly fell off the bed in my haste to get to the bathroom. The mirror was still steamed up, so I quickly wiped my sleeve across it. I shot backward. My mouth was oozing the same thick maroon-colored substance, tarnishing my pearly white teeth. What was it and where was it coming from? I couldn’t fathom it. Then my thoughts rewound: hadn’t the same strangeness happened to me while Frederic burned? I paused for a moment and thought back once more to the blaze, but this time I needed to inspect my hands. In my memory, I had been so entranced by the flames and the smell of the bonfire that I hadn’t taken any time to observe myself except for the scar that had formed on my back. I needed to see my hands, I had to get back into my body, but I didn’t know how to control it.

Emptying all thoughts from my mind, I let the images fill my memory and cautiously focused harder. I was still watching myself stand at the bonfire, not reliving the event. I was straining to see when the fire, roaring in the background, drifted into my concentration. I began to feel its heat spread over me. The sensation was intense and I allowed it to ride across my body, surrendering myself to the moment.

I found myself once more inside my body, back into the past.

It was so real again; the flames burned brightly and I squinted and coughed as the bitter, pungent aroma filled my lungs, reeking like melting paint. I didn’t feel the same sense of awe that I did the first time I was here. I wasted no time; I threw my hands up to my face and, sure enough, they were covered in the ruby-red solution. I smeared the tips of my fingers against my jeans and ran them over my lips and gums, revealing the same substance. It resonated through me, perturbing my taste buds. It was addictively sweet, but also oddly metallic in my mouth. Then it hit me. This was blood, but not my blood.

Panicking, I willed myself back to the bathroom, back to the present and, sure enough, I returned to the exact same position that I’d left. Urgently, I swilled my mouth with the cold water from the tap, gargling and spitting it into the sink until the redness washed away and the water ran clear. I lifted my head up to the mirror but instantly withdrew when, for a split second, the eyes that reflected back at me glinted red in reply. I stumbled, unbalanced, and tried to regain some state of calm as I worked my way back to the bed.

Dropping onto the tray the remains of the nectarine that I was still clutching in my hand, it bumped and rolled and my gaze followed it. All the other leftover pieces of fruit were painted red. I gulped hard and threw them into the wastebasket.

What was happening to me? I couldn’t help but wonder if being in such close proximity to these unearthly beings was in some way drawing out the abnormality that hid under my own skin.

EIGHT

I
SLEPT FOR WHAT SEEMED TO BE
only a few short hours; but when I finally got dressed and made my way down to the living room, Gabriel informed me that I’d actually been out for a couple of days. He made me a cup of tea and we sat down together on the tan leather sofa.

“You look very pretty in that dress,” he commented.

I thought he was just being polite. I pulled a face. “Every outfit Brooke has lent me is either pink or purple and nearly all made of silk for some reason!”

I was sitting awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable, but grateful that the black skinny jeans I had borrowed in the first place were still intact. I’d pulled them on since the strappy minidress was barely covering me.

Gabriel chuckled. “Hmm … Brooke is very young. She likes to think of herself as being at the height of the trends.”

“I guess my taste is a little old-fashioned by comparison.…”

I watched him as we bantered about the dress, or lack thereof. His blond curls were tickling his forehead, bobbing down past his ears, and his large, wide eyes were alert. His fresh, model-like looks certainly drew my eye, but it was far more than that. I felt an invisible pull toward him, like we were deeply connected; I just wanted to be near him.

I gathered he wanted to talk business by the way he continually cracked his knuckles, but as his eyes softened and his face relaxed, I could see he was enjoying chatting with me. Perhaps business could wait a little longer.

“Now, I want you to get back to some form of normality,” he told me.

Perhaps not.

“This last week has been a strain on you to say the least. You’ve been through so much; I just want you to settle in and be happy.” He smiled.

I nodded in agreement. I could definitely use some routine, but I still had questions.

He answered me before the words met the air. “I’m quite sure you still desire answers, and I will share those with you; but all in good time, Cessie.”

When he used that name, I realized we weren’t alone in the house.

I cast my gaze around the room, eventually settling it on the door, and Gabriel nodded his head in reply. I understood. We would have to keep this conversation light.

“So I have a few things for you.” His face brightened as he reached over to the glass-topped coffee table and produced a bag of goodies. “First, an iPhone. The phone number is on the box. I’ve given it to everyone in the house and I have programmed in all our numbers for you,” he said.

My eyebrows raised; I had never owned such an extravagant piece of equipment—well, not to my knowledge at least. “Thank you, it’s fantastic!” I beamed.

Delving into his pocket, he produced a shiny gold credit card and handed that to me next. “I’ve had you added to my account. You need clothes and shoes and all those things that Brooke tells me girls need.” He laughed. “She’s promised to take you shopping, though I have to say, better you than me—she’s a keen shopper!” His eyes glistened playfully.

“No, I can’t take that.” I had never relied on anyone to pay my way and I had no intention of starting now. I tried to give it back to him, but he refused.

“Seriously, please take it. Think of it as a gift. Think of it as a thank-you for helping Jonah,” he pushed, but I still shook my head.

He leaned over and whispered, “Please let me feel as though I have done something for you, even if it is barely a scratch in comparison to the penance I have to repay.”

Here we go, talking in riddles again. I stared back at him blankly, but I could tell he wasn’t going to budge, so I conceded. “Fine, but I’ll pay you back once I’ve found a job,” I insisted, waving the card in the air.

“A job?” he replied quizzically. “When I say that we need to get your life back to normal, you must understand that you need to remain hidden.”

“Oh, well, I can’t just stay here every day, I have to work.”

He rolled up the sleeves of his posh royal blue sweater, as if to tell me that he meant business. His expensive attire made me feel even more inadequate, but I doubted dressing myself in designer clothes would fix that problem.

With a serious tone, he pushed on. “No, you don’t. You can leave the house but only with one of us. We need to keep you protected; you’re vulnerable on your own. I’m trying to make sense of some things, but in the meantime it’s for the best if you remain here. If you must go out, I will insist that it’s under the protection of one of us.”

I readied myself to argue with him, to tell him that I was not a prisoner and I could look after myself.

“Though I hope you don’t mind,” he continued, “that will generally, mostly … always be me.” The edges of his lips curved up. It only took the smallest hint of that luscious smile of his, creeping back up his cheeks, to cause me to change my mind and become instantly amenable. So I returned the smile. “But first you have to go shopping with Brooke.…”

As I glanced up to the door, Brooke stepped through it, right on cue. “Jeez! You’re not supposed to wear jeans with that dress!”