Savannah Past Midnight (5 page)

No time! Need to move fast!

“I’ll handle this.” The words fall from my lips as I
kick the bouncer backward through the set of swinging glass doors.
Any humans who see the act will most likely be too drunk or high at
this late hour to process it. Even if they do, it would have
appeared to be a fast, bad-ass martial arts kick that caught him
right in the chest, nothing more. There is no way for them to
measure the inhuman power behind it.

We leap over his splayed out body as Colton shouts,
“My ride is right behind yours! Go!”

I jump onto my bike and take off as Tristan’s furious
guards race out onto the sidewalk, fighting their way through the
crowd of bystanders. I can hear Colton’s engine behind mine,
knowing that he’s made it. Not until we’re three traffic lights
away do I pull over to the curb. He rolls up beside me on his
low-slung chopper that perfectly suits his huge frame.

I lift my visor to meet a glacial stare as he asks
angrily, “You wanna give me some idea what all that
bullshit
was about back there?”

“No. I don’t. It was my personal business.”

The muscles in his neck and shoulders go rigid as he
grates out, “Your business, huh? Woman, I about capped three guys
in a packed nightclub just to get us outta there safely, so I think
the very
least
you can do is give me a fuckin’ explanation.
The cloak and dagger act is wearin’ thin, sweetheart.”

He’s leaning forward, nostrils flared. Most women
would be terrified, but I’m unbelievably aroused.

I reply smoothly, “I didn’t
ask
for your help
back there. I could’ve managed on my own.”

He shakes his head back and forth in disbelief. “To
hell you could’ve. C’mon, we’ll finish this conversation over at my
place—that is, unless you have more ‘plans’?”

“I’m not sure whether I like or detest you,
cowboy.”

“Don’t matter. You’ll be mine soon enough and I
assure you that you’ll more than ‘like’ me then.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said, wildcat. Follow me. I don’t
live far.”

“You’re impossibly direct.”

“Real men always are, darlin’. C’mon.”

I give him a questioning look and he lands me with,
“The
least
you can do is give me twenty minutes of your time
to explain the shit that’s been rollin’ around in my brain from
that night down on River Street.”

Turn him down,
an inner voice warns.
This
can’t lead anywhere good for either of us.

My emotions drown out the voice of reason. “All
right, just one drink.”

“Whatever you say, boss lady.”

I fight a smile while pulling out behind him.

It’s a good thing I fed two nights ago, which
hopefully will give me a modicum of self-control, because his
unique, all-male scent is already getting to me. Badly. If his
presence alone has this effect on me, I can’t imagine how
addictively luscious his blood would be … not to mention what
moves he could deliver with that gladiator body of his.

“
O
ne hundred and seventy six.
One hundred and seventy seven. One hundred and seventy
eight ….”

The sharp rap at my slightly open door pulls me out
of my abyss of emptiness.

“Yes?”

My grandfather enters with the doctor, who is taller
and lankier than I imagined he’d be. We’ve been waiting for him to
arrive from Boston ever since the accident nearly two weeks ago.
I’ve tried to prepare myself for any diagnosis, but at this point
the unknown is just as horrific as finally hearing the consequences
of my terrible decision to ride Sacred Falls.

“Cosette, this is Doctor Harden. As you are aware, he
has graciously cleared his hectic schedule and traveled very far to
examine you.”

He studies me from a distance, and I can’t help my
sudden attack of nerves as I wait for him to proceed.

“I shall leave you two alone. Cosette, I will be two
rooms away in my office should you need me.”

“That’s fine, Grandfather.”

“Very well.”

My grandfather turns to leave and I catch the
unmistakable look of nervous hope, nearly a plea as his eyes meet
those of the doctor. I want to weep at the stress and unrest I have
caused him. I bite down on my lower lip to stop it from trembling
as the doctor moves slowly toward my oversized cherry wood rice
bed.

“Hello, Cosette.”

“H-hello, Doctor Harden.”

“I’m here to assist you. Please don’t be nervous. I
took the Hippocratic Oath fifteen years ago, which means that first
and foremost I must do no harm and always uphold the highest
ethical standards. If possible, I would never do anything to cause
you distress, Cosette. Now, if it is not too upsetting, can you
tell me in your own words what happened to you on the afternoon of
August seventeenth? I realize that recalling such a memory is most
unpleasant; however, I need to begin there in order to assess your
injury.”

He sets his large, immaculately clean black leather
doctor’s bag at the foot of my bed. I watch him straighten, and
there is a pleasant look on his clean-shaven face as he patiently
waits for my reply.

Hesitantly, I begin, “I was quite reckless with the
stallion I was riding that day. I wanted to see what he was capable
of. You see, I’ve always been fascinated with speed and risk
taking, Dr. Harden. I know that it is likely difficult for you to
comprehend, but I love the feeling, the vibrating energy that being
that close to danger provides. To be honest, I should have
sustained multiple injuries already for all of the mischief I have
tangled myself up in throughout my childhood.”

“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, Cosette, but
putting a young lady on an untamed racehorse is tantamount to
insanity. Your grandfather has explained to me the loss of your
mother to yellow fever when you were merely a newborn. He also
stated that your father will return any day now from his business
travels in London. I hope that we might be able to give him some
hopeful news. Why don’t we have a look at you to determine the
extent of the damage. May I lower the sheet?”

“Yes. That is fine.”

I watch as he gently lifts each of my limp arms and
pulls the starched white cotton down to my toes. I try to will
myself to
feel
the material slide across my thin nightgown,
but there is only the recollection of feeling, nothing more.

“Tell me, Cosette. The moment you hit the ground
after falling off Scared Falls, did you feel anything?”

“My head hurt badly. That was all.”

“So it was then that you ceased to have sensation
below the neck?”

“Yes, that is correct, Doctor.”

“Very well. I would like to raise your gown, just to
the knees, and perform a little test on your legs—with your
permission.”

“Certainly.”

I watch him curiously as he pulls a small tapered
device from his bag that has a thin, pointed end.

“I assure you that I will do nothing other than test
your reaction to stimulus in various places. I will draw no
blood.”

“All right.”

He touches the probe along my legs, then lower, to
each of my toes. I wonder silently if my reactions are at all what
he is looking for. I desperately want to pass the test. This man is
my only hope for recovery from this hell on earth.

As if speaking to himself, he states softly, “I see
you have been well cared for since the accident. Your skin is still
in excellent condition. Your caregivers obviously shift and
reposition you regularly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, Cosette. I need to examine your upper
back and neck, as that is where the major damage was sustained.
Let’s rotate you over onto to your stomach.”

I nod as he slowly turns me over. All I can feel is
my face brushing against the down pillow and the strands of my long
hair as it tangles with the turn.

“Here, let’s shift your head so you can keep your
eyes on me. Excellent. Now, I need to lift your gown to your upper
back, is this acceptable?”

Oh God!
I dread having him look at my body,
but I would do anything to be cured.

“Yes. That is fine.”

“Very well.”

With my head tilted I watch him lift the gossamer
cotton all the way up to my shoulders. From the position of his
body and arms I can see that he is doing something to my back, most
likely what was done to my legs earlier.
Come on, feel
something!

After a long moment he lowers the gown back in
place.

“Let’s roll you back over then.”

I try to read the emotions in his smooth voice but he
is completely calm—too calm.

When I’m lying face up again he is all business,
placing an extra pillow behind my head as he sits down on the edge
of the bed.

“Now, I would like to examine your neck.”

“All right.”

“I’m going to place my fingers at the base of your
jaw and then very slowly work them down. I would like you to tell
me at what point you stop feeling my touch.”

“I will.”

I focus and feel his cool fingers along my skin as
they ever so slowly shift down my neck.

“There. Right there.”

I dip my chin and see his fingers resting about two
inches above my collarbone. My eyes fly to his. Immediately I see
that whatever he’s thinking isn’t good. Since his first step into
the room, the man has been smiling—his lips soft, friendly. Now
they are turned down into a frown.

“W-what is it? You can fix me, can’t you?” I’m unable
to stop my voice from rising to a near shriek.

“What’s wrong with me? Tell me this is temporary,
please!”

His dark blue eyes behind his small spectacles
express profound sorrow.

He breathes deeply before saying, “Cosette, it would
be cruel to be less than honest with you. It is my opinion that due
to your fall, you have sustained a severe injury to your neck that
has most likely severed your spinal cord. It pains me greatly to
tell you this, but there is nothing that can be done to repair the
damage. I am so very sorry. Something like this should never happen
to a smart, beautiful young woman such as yourself.”

He and his consoling words fade away as my eyes fill
with tears that begins to stream down my face.

“Ah, there, there.” He uses his handkerchief to
gently wipe the tears away.

“I will give my recommendations to your grandfather
for your care. Cosette, try to be strong. I know that this is a lot
for you to comprehend at the moment.”

Awash in a sea of self loathing and despair, I am
barely aware of him packing up his bag. My choked sobs grow louder
as he walks toward the door.

With one hand on the knob, he turns to face me.
“Cosette, may I please ask what were you counting when I
arrived?”

I stare at him and struggle to reply, “The
fleurs-de-lis on the wallpaper.”

His wise eyes scan each wall of the large bedroom for
a long moment, his face registering disbelief as I continue, “There
are fourteen thousand eight hundred and sixty-one. I’ve counted
them all. Eleven times now.”

His cheeks turn ashen as his gaze drops down to his
shoes. Without another word he pulls the door open and
disappears.

I want to die.

That night would be the longest of my life.

After listening to Dr. Harden deliver the news to my
grandfather, I hear him weep, brokenhearted, until I am certain
that I will go mad from the misfortune that I have brought upon our
small family. Hours tick by until the house grows silent. A light
breeze wafting in through my open balcony is the only relief from
the stifling humidity that seems to hang ever-present, both day and
night, from April well into October in the Deep South.

My thoughts finally slow down after the whirlwind of
emotions that the final diagnosis set in motion. Heaven only knows
what expense my grandfather went to in order to bring the doctor
here from the north. As one of the only back specialists in the
entire United States, he must charge a small fortune. A new wave of
guilt begins to engulf me as I speculate what my care will cost him
over the course of my useless life.

“Cosette.”

I gasp with astonishment at the arrival of a towering
man and a petite woman who seem to have appeared from out of
nowhere. They begin to move toward me with fluid grace from the
dense shadows of my bedroom.

“Cosette, don’t be frightened, and for God’s sake,
don’t scream.”

His low, crisp voice is terrifying in its eerie
calmness as the duo makes their way around the side of my bed. I
want to shout at them to get away but my terror has me utterly
frozen. As they come closer I blink in shock as the single gas lamp
reveals the identity of the male intruder.

Stunned, I whisper, “Impossible.”

Without hesitation and as if he expected my comment,
the striking man says, “Very possible.”

“A-are you who I think you are? My … my uncle
Severin?”

“Yes, Cosette, and I have waited a
very
long
time to meet you.”

“But … I-I must be dead then.”

“No. Not at all. You are still very much alive, if
you can call the state you’re in
living.
” His eyes tighten
in blatant disapproval of my pitiful condition.

I choose my next words carefully. “Yes, as you can
see, I’ve made some bad choices.” I continue to stare in awe. “I
can’t believe how much you look like Mama. I’ve studied your
painting, which hangs beside hers in the drawing room, countless
times. You look just as you did the year you died in that sword
fight long before I was born. How is that possible? Are you a
ghost?”

“No, we are something far more dangerous than ghosts,
Cosette. But there will be ample time to discuss that later. I
would like you to meet Katerina, my maker. We are here to help
you.”