Authors: Jaime Reed
Burning Emerald (7 page)
“Yeah, sure,” I said warily, shaking away a sudden head rush and the lapse in time. “So, it looks like you were having fun with Courtney over there. Not that I care or anything. I mean, you're free to talk to peopleâit's a party after all, so ... yeah. Did you feed from her?”
“Jealous?” He bumped my side with his elbow.
“No,” I answered quickly.
He laughed. “Really, there's no need. And no, I didn't feed from her. It hurts just to hear her talk, so can you imagine having pieces of her swirling in my subconscious? I've been taking pulls off the crowd here and there, but I'm holding out for later when I can have you all to myself. Alone.”
Why did he have to look at me like that? I wanted to melt down my chair and puddle to the floor. I'd been checking the clock too, counting the seconds before we could sneak off to feed and grope each other like a normal couple. It was a rare treat to be together outside of work and I was ruining it by being petty.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “It seems no matter what, I keep dragging you back to high school drama.”
“It's fine,” he replied, rubbing his face with both hands. “I needed a change of scenery to take my mind off stuff anyway.”
I studied his burdened expression. “What's wrong?”
He didn't answer immediately, but consulted his drink for the answer. After taking a few timid sips, he said, “There's a private detective in town out of New York. He's taken up an interesting hobbyâshadowing me. That's why I didn't want you sticking around when my car got smashed, in case he showed up. I wouldn't be surprised if he followed me here. Oh look! Candy apples!” He reached over the bar and grabbed two pieces of fruit wrapped in cellophane. He unwrapped one and offered me the other.
As tempting as it was, I declined, trying to stay on the subject. “You think he knows anything?”
“No, and that bothers him. I told you, investigators were following my dad while he was alive, and now this detective, David Ruiz, has joined the crusade,” he explained with his mouth full. “My guess is one of the victims' family members hired him, but Ruiz is having a hard time connecting the murders. He has a whole file on my dad tracing all the way back to his time in the military. He's thorough, so he might even interview you to find out what I'm hiding.”
No matter if Caleb changed towns or his last name, there were some things he could not escape. One of those involved the shame of having a psychotic father and the string of deaths that remained unsolved. Nathan Ross was a cautionary tale for any Cambion who loved too deeply and OD'd on human energy. That old ghost had risen from the grave to settle a vendetta, and its main target was Caleb's peace of mind.
My fingers combed through the long blond strands of his wig. He looked way better with dark hair. In fact, there was nothing I would change about him. “I'm sorry. I know you want to put all that behind you.”
Caleb shoved my untouched apple in his pocket for later snacking. “It comes with the territory, I guess. I did some checking and from what I hear, Ruiz is an ex badge with a hell of a mean streak. Cops at his old precinct call him âthe Cuban Necktie.' Fitting description if you think about it.”
“I don't get it. Cuban Necktie?”
“I'll tell you when you're older.” His thumb caressed my cheek, and that simple touch turned my limbs to jelly. “I don't want to worry about it now. Let's just enjoy the night and let tomorrow work itself out.” Seeing me nod, he took another sip of chocolate heaven. His eyes rolled in the back of his head in rapture. Our spirits had an affinity for sugar, but Caleb made consuming sweets a religious experience.
“So are we doing this or what?” Courtney B. approached us, holding Caleb's bow and arrow case in her hand.
“Yes, and please don't touch that. It's not a toy.” Caleb reached for the weapon, but she tucked it behind her back.
“I wanna see how it works. You said you'd show me. Oh, come on, please, please?” she pouted. Her antics were drawing a crowd. Not getting the desired reaction, she took the longbow and raced through the party. In a moving streak of red, she disappeared through the patio doors leading to the golf course.
I lunged forward, but Caleb pinned me still. “No fighting here. Too many people,” he whispered, yet he was the one who needed to cool down. He finished my cocoa in one gulp as if it were a shot of courage and slammed it on the table. Before I knew what was happening, I was being led outside by the wrist.
“Caleb, you don't have to do this. This is dumb,” I pleaded, trying to keep up with his long-legged stride.
He wasn't listening. Caleb was really sensitive about his weapons, and Courtney had gone and messed with his ego. We stepped out to the back deck of the club out onto the grass facing the golf course. The moon shimmered over the river in veins of silver. More guests rushed out of the clubhouse, murmuring in curiosity. Even Dougie and Mia came out of hiding, looking just as confused as I felt.
“Come on, Caleb, show us how you work your weapon.” Courtney and her mob waited on the green, looking smug at the new entertainment. “Can you shoot it, or is it just for show?”
Fellow guests joined the argument, taking her side. “Come on, man. Let's see what you got.” Hoots and cheers followed, egging Caleb on.
Caleb crossed the grass until he towered over the petulant redhead. Courtney's chest heaved under her corset; her eyes drooped, no doubt feeling the effects of Caleb's draw.
“All right, Britney, but I'll need assistance for this trick,” he said and reclaimed his property.
“It's Courtney!” she huffed.
“I don't care.” He whisked past her and crooked his finger at me to come forward.
Oh, the pitter-patter. Even Lilith felt a little woozy at the invitation. As I pushed through the group, the world progressed in cinematic slow motion. Licking my lips, I took my time crossing the distance, adding more hip swing in my strut. Cool wind passed around me, taking my glittery wings into flight.
Long blond strands whipped at Caleb's face as he dove into his pocket. With a roll of the wrist, he presented the candy apple and the same smile that probably tempted Eve.
“You see that big tree over there? Stand there and place this on your head.”
My love-induced daze died a quick death. “Say what?”
“You ever heard of William Tell?”
“You ever heard of involuntary manslaughter?”
Singling out an arrow from his case, he dragged its feathered end over my cheek, beginning a languorous journey down the front of my dress. “Come on, Sam. Don't you trust me? Relationships are built on trust.”
I plucked the arrow away with my fingers. “And stupidity.”
Courtney leaned in. “If you're too scared, I'll do it!”
“No!” was our unanimous reply.
“I know what I'm doing. Trust me. Just keep still and I'll do the rest.” Caleb planted a soft kiss on my forehead.
I don't know what made me agree with the ideaâcuriosity, peer pressure, or temporary insanity. But this was definitely a test of trust and courage. Caleb's weapons were the real deal and sharp as hell, which had inspired countless slaps on the wrists and scoldings whenever I tried to touch one on his wall. I had heard tales of his impeccable aim, but I'd never expected to one day become a target.
I reached the aged pine, a good twenty yards from where the gang stood, and flushed my back against the trunk. Balancing the apple to my crown, I yelled, “Do you need more light?”
“I can see you!” Nervousness made Caleb's voice uneven. “Just keep still. Don't move, don't even breathe!”
He didn't have to worry about that. Statues could never attain this level of stillness. A painful jolt zapped my chest as Caleb squared his shoulders and pulled back the string of the bow. A hush swept over the night, even the air froze around my skin. Some jerk in the crowd yelled “Miss!” and I almost wet myself. As the group grew quiet again, I closed my eyes and awaited my fate. The seconds slithered by, my hesitation grew, but I couldn't move. Caleb's face appeared behind my eyelids when a loud, wet crunch cut through the air.
Racing feet brought me back to current events. Hearing my name, and relieved that I was still alive, I opened my eyes to look up at what was left of the apple. The impact had broken the fruit into three pieces, speared in a gooey kebab of ribbon and clear wrapping.
“Sam! Are you okay?” Mia asked, pushing onlookers aside to gain a better view.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Wow, that was some crazy Robin Hood shit!” Mia tried to pull the arrow from the bark, but it wouldn't move. “Man, it's really in there.” She tried using both hands, but not even Dougie's added strength could budge the lodged arrow.
I stared in a blank daze. Two inches lower and that would have been my head.
I looked over to my curious audience, scanning each painted face, but not seeing the one I wanted. “Where's Caleb?”
The crowd gave me room to walk, seeming to wonder the same question. It took only a moment to learn the answer. Moonlight silhouetted his body but made every spastic movement clear as day. Low grunts of pain filled the night as Caleb shrunk into himself like a dying spider.
“Caleb!” I screamed and reached his side at record speed.
Something sharp and tight took me to my knees. I no longer felt the cold or the ground beneath me, but the acidic burn that ate at my gut. It resembled the worst stomach flu in the world with a splash of malaria, and a freaky acid trip as garnish.
Fitful heaves emptied the contents of my stomach even when there was nothing left. I crawled to Caleb and held his head in my hands, and he clung to me like a life raft. His jaws flapped as he clutched at his throat, fighting for one breath of air. He was drowning in some private sea of torment, quickly dragging me with him.
I wasn't the only one having a reaction. Lilith went into a full wild-out, itching from the inside out as if covered with ants, scrambling for an exit, an answer, something.
Somewhere in a galaxy light years beyond the Earth's sun, I heard a stampede of footsteps. “You okay, Sam? What's wrong with Caleb?” a panicky voice asked. Shoes crunched the chilled grass, followed by speculative chatter. “Oh my God, look at her eyes! What the hell is she on?” someone yelled.
Before I could reply, bolts of fire struck my midsection with such force I fell flat on the ground next to Caleb. My muscles locked, causing joints to snap violently. The stretching of tissue, along with overwhelming sorrow, had me curled into a ball and crying for my mother.
Time held no true measure for these heart-stopping moments of fear and agony. Hands tucked underneath me and lifted me off the ground. I had no idea who spoke to me or where the flashing lights came from. More hands grabbed at my wrists and ankles, cruel in their assault and unmoved by my pleas to get to Caleb.
Where was he? Was he okay?
Through blurred sight, I saw Mia crying and squeezing my hand. A long, cold tube scraped my already raw throat, burrowing its way downward. Words floated in and out of range, loud, garbled noises that pertained to me in some manner. Everything after that was anyone's guess because the fight soon left my body. Death's cold finger rested against my lips and whispered, “Shh,” bidding me to sleep. Despite my will to hold on, what child could truly refuse?
7
T
he next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed with a tiny construction worker jackhammering my skull.
he next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed with a tiny construction worker jackhammering my skull.
Turning over, I saw Mom dozing in a chair by the window. Something bad had happened, bad enough for Mom to wear holey pajamas in public. Judging from the dried tears and dark circles under her eyes, it had to be serious.
“Mom?” I called with a swollen, scratchy throat.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. “Samara?”
“Hi, Mom. What's going on?”
She sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness, baby. Are you all right? How are you feeling?”
“Groggy. Why am I in a hospital, again?”
“You were brought in two nights ago. You had a seizure and fell into a coma. Do you remember what happened?”
“Not really.” I dragged my hand through my hair and leaned back against the pillow. “We were at Courtney's party. Caleb had a bow and arrow andâCaleb!” I sprang upright, but Mom pushed me back down.
“Easy now, just relax. He's down the hall. His brother is with him. Tell me what happened.”
My mind reeled, straining to recount the event in its proper sequence. “He was having a fit, some sort of reaction.”
Mom's expression was indiscernible. Several emotions flashed in those blue, bloodshot eyes, and hitting the top of the list was fear. “Samara, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.” She buried her face in her hands.
“What happened, Mom?”
“He's in a coma. The doctors believe he suffered an allergic attack, but they're having trouble diagnosing his symptoms. The paramedics arrived to the scene pretty quick and were able to pump his stomach and give him insulin, but he's still in bad shape. We'll have to wait and see.”
“Like a food allergy? What did he eat?”
“I was hoping you could answer that question,” she said with a hint of reproach.
“You think he took drugs or something? Come on, Mom, Caleb does not do drugs. I would know if he did. I was with him the whole night, and I didn't see him OD on anything but candy,” I said in his defense.
“No, no, I believe you. They're pretty sure it's an allergy to something he ate.” Mom took her time getting to the root of the matter, bracing herself for my response. “I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, but then he wasn't the only one affected. You had the same reaction.”
“To what?” I yelled. “Were we poisoned?”
“I didn't want to rouse any suspicion, no more than there already is, but ...” Mom glanced at the door before saying in a low, sneaky tone, “Remember what I was telling you about last week, my research about olive oil?”
“Olive oil?” I repeated, not sure if I heard her correctly. “Why would Caleb drink olive oil and what does that have to do with him being sick? That's all myth, Mom.”
“Is it? Cambions are myths as well. Incubi and succubi aren't supposed to exist. Why wouldn't this rule apply?”
“Because it doesn't workâjust crazy superstition. I even proved it that night, and I was fine... .” I paused, my mouth forming the word yet to be spoken, when a recollection struck. Its truth seemed to have caught in my throat and gone down the wrong pipe.
While talking to Mom in the kitchen, I'd licked the oil on my finger and soon after, I'd gotten nauseous and spent half the night puking. My stomach muscles had curled into knots and Lilith had writhed in her own sphere of agony, a feeling very similar to the one on Halloween night. But only a few drops had coated my finger, not even a teaspoon.
Staring off to the far end of the room, I shook my head. “Are you sure about this, Mom?”
“There's no other explanation. You don't have any past medical conditions, and you rarely got sick as a kid. And these aren't exactly textbook symptoms of a food allergy. In fact, it's more of an âinternal' issue.” She stressed the word with air quotes before continuing. “The staff around here have a lot of unanswered questions. No one has seen anything like this.” Mom tucked in her lips, holding back the sob that was ready to break loose.
I sat there in an unblinking trance. My thoughts ran in opposite directions, and each path led to a dead end. Aside from pizza, I'd never liked Italian food. Salads of any kind were against my religion, let alone fancy dressing. Which posed the question: How did olive oil get into my body?
Closing a shaky hand over her mouth, Mom broke into another fit of tears, but this time I joined her. “My God, you could've ...”
I reached over and fingered her curls. “Mom, please don't cry, please. I'm fine.”
“Come here.” Mom pulled me in her arms. “Now do you see why I keep hounding you about your bracelet? I'm not trying to run your life, I tell you these things for your own good. You're the only child I have, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” Mom smoothed back my curls and rained kisses on my cheeks and temple. “The doctor says you'll be fine in a few days, but you need to rest and stay hydrated. Your father came to see you this morning. He should be back tomorrow. He'll be glad to know you're awake.”
“Is he mad at me?”
There was something very creepy about her laugh. It seemed to mock me as if I should know better. And I did. I could almost see Dad barging through the door demanding answers that I didn't even know how to give.
Pulling away, I wiped the tears from my eyes and focused on one crisis at a time. “I need to see Caleb, just for a few minutes.”
“I know, but not tonight. Get some rest. I'll take you to him as soon as the doctors check on you.” Mom stroked my tube-covered hand.
Lying back on the bed, I shut my eyes. I didn't have the strength to analyze this tonight, so I closed all programs and saved the data as a WTF file. Besides, whatever was tunneling inside my IV drip was making me drowsy.
“Will you stay until I fall asleep?” I mumbled against the pillow.
She kissed my nose. “I'm not leaving you, baby.”
In moments, sleep took over and I dreamt of Caleb, my knight in shining armor. He stood proud on a mountain summit, surveying his newly conquered terrain with a sword in one hand and a powdered doughnut in the other.
I could have been asleep for maybe an hour when a nagging throb attacked my stomach. It caused a pull, an unrelenting need to act. This distress call seemed to come from miles away, a desperate plea for help. I tried my best to ignore it, but that only aggravated the ache more. Like a baby wailing in the night for its mother, this alarm pulled me out of a sound sleep to see to its need.
“I'm coming,” I croaked and threw the covers off of me.
I ripped off the medical tape, and my eyes watered as the top layer of skin peeled with it. Eyebrow waxes were never this brutal. Thankfully, removing the needle in my hands was far less painful. I eased out of the bed and rummaged the supply cabinets for bandages while keeping a watchful eye on my dozing mother. Once I'd dressed the wounds, I tiptoed to the door.
Mom would have a fit, but I had to see Caleb, just a peek, just a moment of consolation. The vacant hall left me free to walk undetected. If I hadn't been awake before, the icy tiled floor and cool draft creeping up my hospital gown did the trick. The strange pulling sensation grew stronger with each step, creating a navigational system that allowed me to reach room 278 without conscious effort.
I opened the door and peered inside. The hall light leaked into the dark space, drawing around the sleeping body in the middle of the bed. I slipped inside and leaned against the closed door, listening to the monitors chirp like nocturnal wildlife. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but my patience was well rewarded.
I admired his peaceful demeanor, even with the tubes and wires wrapped around him. However, his position made him too inert for sleep, and looked more like preparation for burial. The thought left me drained of strength, and the continuous draw seemed to suck the life from my body. At least now I knew where the compulsion was coming from.
“You shouldn't be here, Sam.” The voice carried a faint Irish brogue.
I spun around to a pair of purple lights flickering in the dark. It followed my every move as I pushed off the door, but I wasn't afraid. If anything, his presence offered comfort. Last time I'd heard he was doing volunteer work overseas, forever the philanthropist who opened his hands rather than his checkbook.
The keen glow in his eyes told me that my visit was an unexpected one. His spirit was livid, and he didn't care who saw it.
“You'll make yourself sick. Go back to bed,” Haden advised.
“I will. I had to see him.” I turned back to Caleb. “How is he?”
“Unresponsive. They managed to get his heart rate under control and he's breathing on his own.”
Footsteps drew closer. That soft, lavender glow bumbled in the dark.
“How could this happen, Haden?” I whispered.
“The lives inside us aren't human, but we are. Our bodies are just as susceptible to the elements as everyone else.” Rough, callused hands rounded my shoulders and squeezed. “But this is an internal injury. His spirit is the one that's afflicted, not him.”
“Did you know about the olive oil?” I asked, my eyes stinging with tears.
He let out a long, heavy breath. “We all knew about it as lads. Basic household oil is not as harmful; it'll make you sick. The deadly kind has to be organic and blessed by the church. Michael got a hold of some when he was seven, but Brodie and I were there to give him enough energy to fight it off.”
Seeing my look of confusion, he added, “Feeding as soon as it happens works as a vitamin C shot; it strengthens the spirit's defense system in a way. Every second counts if you want to catch it before it settles into your system. After that, it's a coin toss.”
I couldn't believe this! All this fuss over a cooking ingredient, a toxin known to everyone in the Cambion community but me. Hell, if Mom could discover our weakness, then this little fun fact was available to anyone with a decent search engine. If only a certain kind could do harm, that meant someone else knew about us, and they had gone through a lot of effort to single us out. But who? In light of this, I couldn't help thinking that somehow this was my fault.
I let my weight rest against Haden's chest. “When did you get here?”
“This morning. Brodie's here in the States, but he's stuck in New York on business. And Michael ... well, he's a little upset.”
I stared up at him. “He blames me, doesn't he?”
“He's a bit more rational than that. There's a method to his apparent madness, but no, he's not angry with you. He was more concerned for you than Caleb.”
“Why?”
“As I said, the oil lingered too long and Caleb didn't feed to build his strength, and if he did, it wasn't enough. There is no logical reason why he isn't dead yet. His spirit hasn't abandoned his body, which means there's life left to salvage. Yours.”
“I don't understand. We're not bonded yet.”
“But you're linked. You feed from each other constantly, strengthening the connection,” Haden explained. “Capone is borrowing energy from Lilith, a type of life support until Caleb can recover. That's why you had your seizure. They only found a small trace of the oil in your body, not enough to do serious damage. You're taking in Caleb's illness, you're keeping him alive, and the fact that you're walking about is a good sign.”
My next question was difficult to get out. “Since we're not bound to each other, what will happen to me if he dies?”
Haden leaned closer to my ear. “You want the truth?”
“It's always nice.”
“You'll survive, but you'll wish you hadn't. Your spirit will grieve and suffer extreme withdrawal and you'll go mad. For starters.”
I flinched. I had asked for honesty, but damn. “Starters?”
“Best case scenario, you'll become suicidal and succeed. Worst case.” He swallowed hard. “You'll become like my father.”
The reply sent a chill through the entire room.
Whirling machinery cut through the silence as our predicament lay out before us, unmoving, wrapped in tubes and adhesive. Bonded or not, I was stuck with Caleb for life. Though I hadn't signed up for this when we began dating, I couldn't imagine life without him. Not now. Not after all that had happened.
“Does he need to feed now?” I asked.
I felt Haden nod. “Badly.”
That was all I needed to know. I rushed to Caleb's side and touched his face. “How will that work if he can't draw it in?”
“I have no idea, but if his spirit can feed off you from across the hall, it should sense you up close. Try it, but don't let him take too much.”
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