Zurlo, Michele - Torment [Daughters of Circe 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) (9 page)

Torrey was blunt. “She’s dying. She has cancer.”

Caiden’s grief was genuine, but he wasn’t surprised. “I sensed the sickness in her long ago. There was nothing I could do to save her, Torrey. There is nothing you could have done. I gave you as many years with her as I could.”

If there had been a chair nearby, Torrey would have sunk into it. Caiden knew. He knew everything. “How?” She had no need to elaborate on her question because
he knew
.

This time, Caiden’s smile was poignant. “Because you require me to know.”

She tilted her head to the side, wondering what that could possibly mean. Caiden didn’t seem inclined to enlighten her. He seemed to enjoy her state of ignorance.

“What is this ‘Daughter of Circe’ thing?” She opted not to mention she planned to be the main attraction at a werewolf ritualistic sacrifice. Likely Caiden already knew.

He shook his head. “We’ll save that for later, after your wolf helps unleash your powers.”

There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she somehow knew her time with Caiden was short. “Why did you call me?”

“Remove the medicine from your mother’s body, Torrey. It’s time to let her go.” His brown eyes were soft and sad. “Then go with your wolf. He will teach you, Torrey. You are his Hope.”

Remove the medicine? How? Torrey opened her mouth to ask, to protest the directive, but Caiden was gone. She was home, lying on her bed next to Shade. The black garment Caiden gave her still enveloped her body.

Shade’s legs were tangled in hers, and he was sound asleep. He slept facing her, on top of the covers, where he crashed after having sex, completely naked. Trapped in the urgency of his need, he hadn’t given her a chance to study his body.

The black cotton shirt and the light denim jeans he’d been wearing hid nothing of his physique. Naked, he was just as long and just as powerfully built. Only the textures were different. Torrey knew the firmness of his hands on her body, and she knew the softness of his cock in her hand. She knew the strong male texture of his shoulders and chest, but that was all. He hadn’t allowed her time to explore his body.

Though he had given her many orgasms, what he did was all about filling his needs. He had fucked her, purely and simply. Torrey wanted to return the favor, to touch him, to taste him, to ride him until they both passed out.

Unfortunately, she only had twenty minutes to make it downtown to her job at the main branch of the Emerson Library.

He didn’t move when she extricated her legs, and nothing in him flickered as she moved around the room, dressing for work. Not knowing what to do with the unexpected robe, she shoved it in her backpack and took it with her.

She was only ten minutes late, and that was because her car was still in Rick’s parking lot, four hours away, forcing her to take the bus. Nobody noticed. Her shift was a short one, only three hours, too short to be allotted a break. With her mind preoccupied on how she might remove the medicine Seth gave her from her mother’s body, the time flew.

Afterward, she walked to the hospital. Frank wasn’t in the room with her mother when she arrived. Hillary Quinn was alone with the beeps and the blips and the antiseptic odor that never quite smelled clean or fresh.

She both liked and hated arriving to find her mother alone. Part of her didn’t want her mother to ever be alone, to be afraid. A more selfish part of Torrey wanted Frank gone so she could have her mother to herself. The square plastic cushion on the plastic-covered chair had been forced into a curved shape to fit the rounded back support. Dropping down on the uncomfortable furniture next to her mother, Torrey wrapped her hand around Hillary’s pale one.

Their hands were the same size. They both had long fingers that managed to appear both strong and delicate. Torrey’s height and athletic build came from her mother. Though she had now met Caiden, she wasn’t sure what she inherited from him, other than her powers. The surreal quality of their encounters made it impossible to measure his height or his build. The shapeless robe he wore didn’t help, either.

“Hi, Mom,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Deep down, Torrey knew her mother couldn’t hear her no matter the volume of her words. “I really messed up.”

A glance to Hillary’s face showed nothing had changed. She was pale. Her mouth was slack around the profusion of tubes taped in place, distorting and camouflaging her tremendous beauty.

Suddenly, Torrey knew why she was certain her mother couldn’t hear her. Hillary wasn’t there. The body in the bed was nothing but a shell. A single tear tracked down Torrey’s cheek, followed by dozens more. Sobs squeezed her chest painfully, and she fought for breath.

The arms that closed around her were strange and familiar at the same time. She accepted the solace offered without looking up. She cried until nothing more would come out. Numb, she let Shade hold her.

Somehow, he was sitting in her chair, cradling her on his lap. She couldn’t recall when he arrived, or when he switched their positions, but her cheek rested against his chest, and she took comfort from his strength and nearness.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked. She hadn’t left a note. She meant to, but it slipped her mind.

Lazy fingers caressed her hair, drawing it away from her tear-stained face. “Your scent was easy to follow.”

She’d taken a bus. “You tracked me?”

He nodded, never pausing the soothing strokes through her hair. “You were gone when I woke up. I wanted you again.”

A reluctant chuckle escaped. He was so black and white. Wolves were simple, driven mostly by instinct.

“I packed your things,” he continued. “I was going to bring you home with me. The man who took Riley lives closer to my house.” He watched her mother’s chest rise and fall to the rhythm of the machines pumping air into her lungs. “But I think it would tear you to leave your mother. I didn’t realize…”

Torrey shifted, sitting up to peer closer at Hillary. “She’s not in there.” Her voice was gravelly and raw from crying. “The machines are keeping her body going, but she’s dead. Frank just doesn’t want to face it. Neither do I.”

Shade’s hand played up and down her spine. “When my parents died, I avoided going into the room where their bodies were being prepared for burial. I was going to skip the funeral. A part of me thought that if I could just avoid seeing them dead, then somehow, they wouldn’t be dead. They’d walk through the door and Mom would yell at Soren and me for a dozen different things. Dad would stand behind her and roll his eyes, then kick our asses if we didn’t move fast enough to make Mom happy.”

She didn’t understand why he was trying to make her feel better. He had no responsibility to see to her emotions. Still, she appreciated the odd sort of semi-friendship he offered. “Soren?”

“My brother.”

“Older or younger?”

Shade grimaced. “Younger, by about seven minutes.”

Torrey’s brow lifted. “You’re a twin?”

The grimace turned to a sort-of smile. “Twins are common among my people, triplets, too.” He turned, taking his eyes from Hillary to focus on Torrey. “Your turn. Who is Frank?”

It was Torrey’s turn to grimace. “Riley’s father. My mom met my dad when she and Frank broke up one time. It didn’t last very long, and she went back to Frank. I know you said he was jealous, and maybe that’s true, but it’s also true that he hates me.”

Shade said nothing, and Torrey appreciated that. He didn’t try to explain the ways in which she might be mistaken, and he didn’t try to defend Frank’s behavior. He accepted her statement without offering sympathy or judgment.

Standing, she looked down at Shade. “I’ll go home with you, Shade, but I need you to help me with one thing first.”

His expression didn’t change as he waited for her request.

“Seth gave me some medicine to give to my mom. I have to remove it from her body, but I don’t know how.” She watched him expectantly, hoping he understood she was asking for help with her magic.

His hands rested on his legs, fingers spread to span his powerful thighs. Strong hands on rugged jeans never failed to captivate Torrey. “Did you have another vision?”

She wasn’t sure they were visions so much as visitations. “Yes.”

Shade stood, his eyes roaming Hillary’s still form. “I can tell you what to do, Torrey, but I can’t help you do it.”

“That’s all I need,” she said. “He said you would show me.”

Shade glanced at her sharply. “The Shadow Man?”

“No,” she said, declining to elaborate. For some reason, she didn’t want to share Caiden’s name with anyone, not yet. “Tell me, Shade. Tell me how to free my mother.”

Moving to stand behind her, Shade lifted her arms until they were extended in front of her, hands open, palms facing upward. “Witches are of the earth and of the water. You command those elements. A human body is mostly water. Command the water to give up the poison.”

Torrey concentrated, willing the poison—the medicine—to leave her mother’s body. Amazingly, she felt a tingling deep inside herself, and that tingling was reflected in her mother’s body. That small taste of success gave her hope, and hope gave her focus. She tried. Time passed. Nothing happened.

Her hands dropped, rotating downward. Immediately, Shade grabbed her wrists and forced her palms skyward. “Hands up and open means you’re calling, commanding. Hands facing down means you’re forcing, pushing. Hands with the palms open and facing away from you is purely defensive. You can’t force this, and you can’t fight it. You have to command it.”

She noticed he was careful to keep his body behind her. Did her power not work in that direction? Shaking away peripheral and distracting thoughts, Torrey seized on what he said. Command. She would have to command the poison to leave.

No. She didn’t have control of the poison. She had control of water. Renewing her efforts, she reached out to the water inside Hillary’s body and commanded it to push the poison out. She felt the substance being forced through permeable membranes, heading toward the kidneys. In minutes, her mother’s body was clear.

The effort drained Torrey, and she collapsed backward, falling against Shade. His arms came around her, once again offering support without being asked.

The beeps ran together, turning into a high-pitched scream as the mystical drug that kept Hillary’s heart beating flushed from her cells, and she flat-lined. Nurses and doctors rushed in, pushing a crash cart into the tiny room. Torrey and Shade were shuffled to the hall to await the results of the futile efforts to revive Hillary.

Shade deposited Torrey on a low bench across the hall and moved to lean against the wall next to her. She sagged forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Energy began to slowly return.

The keening of the machines was an ominous background to demands for “One more milligram, STAT!” and “Clear!” Then the noise of the medical staff ceased. From the open doorway, the softer command to “Call it” drifted out.

“What the hell have you done?”

Torrey’s head jerked up to find Frank, all six feet, two inches of him, bearing down on her. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her guilt was written plainly on her face.

His hand shot out to slap her. Now that he had denied all ties to her, now that Hillary wasn’t there to stand between them, he had no reservations about acting on his violent impulses toward her.

The hand never connected. Shade’s iron grip prevented Frank’s arm from moving. His face was dark and foreboding. Additional threats and warnings were unnecessary.

Frank stared at Shade, noticing him for the first time. His resistance relaxed, and Shade released Frank’s arm.

Torrey stood, automatically moving closer to Shade’s protection. “It was her time to go, Frank. You know she wasn’t in there. That’s why you left her alone. That’s why you keep leaving her alone.” Despite the way he treated Torrey, she knew Frank had loved Hillary, and he wouldn’t have left her alone if he believed any part of her was still trapped inside her body.