Haunted (22 page)

“About the other night, I….”

“New topic,” I blurted out like an involuntary tic.

“Ruby, I just want to—”

“I'm not listening,” I told him as I leapt off the couch covering my ears. “See this?” I asked as I danced around in circles. “Not listening! La la la la la la la.” I then walked towards the apartment door, thinking maybe I, too, needed to get out; perhaps Cooper had the right idea. I grabbed the knob to turn it, only to have Sean's hand clamp down on mine, thwarting my escape attempt. His body was so near mine that I could feel the heat radiating off of him.

“Please. I need you to understand one thing,” he pleaded. I turned to look up at him and saw sadness in his eyes. I tried the door knob again, but his grip only tightened further. “Will you not at least hear me out? Just this once?” he asked.

“I don't see the point in it, Sean,” I sighed. “Nothing has changed between then and now. Status quo.”

His mouth tightened, eyebrows drawn downward. He knew I was right, but was determined to say what he'd wanted to say. He opened his mouth once to speak before closing it quickly, as if resetting before attempting his explanation again. He never got the chance.

As he leaned in close to my ear and started to whisper his defense, Cooper's door closed quietly down the hall. We both snapped to attention like teenagers who got caught making out on the couch by their parents.

“Having a little tête-à-tête, are we?” she asked, voice silky smooth. It was her attempt to cover the rage boiling under the surface; I could feel it rolling off her down the hall.

“Is it done?” Sean asked, evading her question.

“It is,” she replied as she glided down the hall towards us. “We will know by midnight if it was successful.”

I glanced at the clock; it was 11:47p.m. – Sophie had narrowly finished in time. Had we stood around squabbling for much longer than we did, Peyta would have had no chance to transition, and would have spent years slowly dying as a result. I shuddered at the thought of it.

“How will we know?” I asked, quietly.

“You won't,” she quipped. “Only I could know such a thing.”

I realized that it wasn't the best moment to call her out on her power trip, so I choked down the insult begging to escape my mouth and asked how she would know.

“I will feel it,” she said, moving closer to Sean.

“You'll feel it? That's it? That's what we're going off of?” I asked, sounding every ounce as doubtful as I felt.

“I don't need to explain myself to you, Anomaly. You matter not in this.”

It took me a moment to realize that the growling sound I heard was coming from my own throat. I looked down in a panic, fearing the worst, but there on my right hand was my platinum band, right where it should have been; Scarlet was in check. The growl was all me.

So was the right hook that followed it.

“I don't matter in this?” I screamed at her as she crashed backwards into the wall. “You've been in it for a couple of hours, I've been swimming in this shit for weeks. That kid is my family, so I'll be damned if you think your skanky ass is gonna walk in here and take over. It'll be over my dead body.”

Sean was restraining me from behind, his hands clamped hard around my biceps. Sophie was rubbing her jaw as I screamed at her hysterically. I wanted to tear her apart yet again, but in fairness, I was projecting anger onto her unjustly. Not all of my emotion revolved around Peyta.

“That can be arranged,” she said finally.

Sean uttered not a single word, but marched me intently down the hall to my room, like a badly behaved child about to be put in timeout.

“Wait here,” he said before closing the door on me, leaving me alone.

I started nervously cleaning, again. He's going to think I have OCD. It was an oddly timed thought but I laughed out loud at it anyways. I always seemed to need to tidy things up when Sean was around; maybe it was a metaphor for my life.

He returned as I crammed a wad of tee shirts into a drawer, struggling to push it closed as I leaned into it with my hip. It gave away suddenly and I crashed into the dresser, bouncing off of it onto the floor. I stayed where I landed, too depressed and exhausted to move.

Sean said nothing at first when he came to join me, sitting next to me as I lay on the floor. Instead he just rubbed the side of his neck repeatedly with his hand as if trying to force the tension out of it. His efforts appeared unsuccessful.

“She feels threatened by you.”

Not really where I expected him to start.

“I'm not condoning her behavior, Ruby, but you need to see where she's coming from,” he told me. “She clings to how things were for us centuries ago. She won't let the past be the past.”

I said nothing, but looked at him blankly. I'd hoped my lack of response would encourage him to explain further. I wanted to know exactly what the deal was between them once and for all and we had at least ten minutes to kill before midnight.

“She won't face reality,” he continued. “It's too hard for her. Her whole identity is wrapped up in who we are, not who she is, what she does.”

“And what exactly is she? What does she do?” I asked, following through the door he'd opened with his remarks.

“The Healers were bred with the specific purpose of serving the PC,” he explained. “Their job is to keep us alive.”

“And she's been with the PC for centuries?”

“Yes.”

“With you for centuries?”

“Yes,” he replied, quietly, running his fingernail along a groove in the hardwood floor repeatedly.

“Then why would you need Peyta?”

“We don't.”

When he pulled his attention away from the southern pine flooring, I gave him a confused look.

“Then what the fuck was all this about tonight? Her genetics have her set to self-destruct if she isn't transitioned, but once she is she has nothing to do?” I asked in total disbelief. “What kind of shit system is that?”

“The shit system is to ensure that we always have Healers to call upon if need be. There is only ever one linked to us, but if something were to happen to her we need other options,” he explained. “Some of them serve willingly, of their own accord. Sophie can’t be everywhere at once.”

I pondered the implications of what he'd said before speaking.

“So she's not immortal?”

“Not exactly,” he replied. “Healers have amazing gifts, but they're fragile. Their lives are entrusted to the PC. It is a sacred bond. As long as she is tied to us, she will live.”

Sacred bond…

“And how exactly is she bonded?” I asked, feeling as though I was getting closer to the crux of the issue.

“She's chosen,” he said, sighing heavily as if preparing for the inevitable.

“And who chooses?”

“The leader of the brothers.”

“So in other words, you?”

He nodded once.

“So you chose Sophie?” I asked, a slap of reality hitting me. “You wanted to be bonded with her. This wasn't put on you at all. You're no victim of circumstance, it's your own fault!” I yelled, scrambling to get off of the floor.

“I had to choose someone and I picked her,” he hissed. “Had I known how things would play out over time, that things would be where they are now, I would have chosen differently.”

“Differently how?” I asked, hovering over him. “If it wasn't her it would just be someone else; nothing would change.” He looked guilty and remorseful at my comment, but said nothing in his defense, just picked nervously again at the floor.

“Or would it?” I asked squatting down to get into his line of sight. “Could it have been different?”

He sighed as he lifted his gaze, his expression haunted.

“When I chose Sophie, I thought I was in love. She was bonded to the PC in a different manner. It tied her not only to the group, but to me in particular, like a marriage. To my knowledge it is unchangeable.”

And back to square one again…

“What a fucking nightmare,” I said under my breath.

“I told you I would find a way—”

“Not that,” I snapped. “Being married to her – that would be a nightmare.” I thought I heard him snicker at my sentiment, but when I looked up at him he continued to look pained. “You said something to me once, right before you left to go back to Europe. I want to know exactly what you meant by it,” I told him. “Do you remember?”

“I said a lot of things that night,” he replied. “When I could get a word in edgewise….”

“It was the last thing you said,” I clarified, ignoring his pithy statement.

“If I recall correctly I informed you that you were mine.”

As I opened my mouth to ask my next question, Sophie burst through the door, interrupting us yet again.

“It's midnight,” she said, looking anxious. “The transition period has finished.”

Sean and I shot up from the floor and all but ran to Cooper's room. Sophie opened the door and slowly approached the bed. She placed her hand to Peyta's chest and closed her eyes for a moment. It took only seconds before a smile eased across her face.

“Her transition was successful. She will live,” she said matter-of-factly.

I let out a huge breath as I collapsed forward, catching myself on my knees. She's OK.

Once I regained my composure, I righted myself and walked over to Sophie slowly; I didn't want to spook her after my earlier shenanigans.

“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to look her in the eyes.

“I didn't do this for you,” she said, cocking her head to the side in mocking. “If I had, I'd have failed.”

I glared at her with utter hatred and horror. I had no doubt that she was capable of what she'd said.

“How do I know you haven't?” I asked, spewing the disdain I felt for her back in her face.

“You don't,” she said, smugly. “You can't sense the dead.”

27

“Missing?” I shouted into the phone. “What do you mean she's missing?”

“She hasn't come home, Ruby. Nobody has seen her,” Cooper explained, sounding increasingly frantic. “There's no trace of her at your store, she hasn't been back to the house, and I can't get through to her phone – it goes straight to voicemail like it's been shut off. I'm freaking out, Rubes. This isn't like the other night when she was a few minutes late. She was supposed to be back hours ago.”

I tried to wrap my head around what he was saying. After the drama of the previous night simmered down, I was expecting things to go back to pseudo-normal again. Yet another rug was pulled out from under me.

After Sophie confirmed that Peyta had pulled through her transition well, she and Sean left for the evening. The next morning Peyta pranced around the apartment like nothing had changed, and better yet, like she had no recollection of the previous night. She'd received a call from her mom's fill-in asking her to help with a major inventory at the store, and I thought it was safe to let her go without a chaperon since she wouldn't be alone. The weather was surprisingly pleasant so she pleaded endlessly for me to let her walk to the shop. I didn’t see the harm since it was only a couple of blocks and broad daylight – I didn’t think much could go wrong. It would seem that I was mistaken.

I'd driven down to Boston for the day to check out flea markets, thrift stores and Salvation Armies hoping to score some cool new stuff to work on for the shop. Cooper had promised to stay home all day and wait for Peyta. He'd returned from his night of walking the downtown streets trying to escape his worries; for once in a long time he hadn't gotten high to avoid the drama in his life.

I was afraid he was reconsidering that game plan.

“Did you go to Ronnie's shop? She was supposed to be there all day helping out,” I asked, hoping I could offer something helpful.

He was silent for a moment before answering.

“She never showed up. I went down to see if she was there and the woman working said she never came in. I had to do some serious acting to keep her from calling Ronnie.”

Oh my God…

“What should we do?” I asked, unsure of how to approach the brewing CF. “Should we call Sean? Maybe that bitch lied last night. Maybe Peyta isn't fine at all!”

Cooper growled low and deeply on the line, “If she did, it will be the last she ever tells.”

“Call Sean now. Tell him to meet at my place,” I ordered, making the executive decision to involve him. I hoped I wouldn't regret it. “I'm on my way home.”

* * *

It was nearly evening when I arrived. In the time it took me to get back, Sean and Cooper had combed the vast majority of the city for Peyta to no avail. Cooper scented her all the way to her mom's store before her trail just disappeared; Sean fared no better. We kept trying her phone, fruitlessly leaving messages and texts. Sean put a call into the brothers and they were all on high alert, out looking for the waif-like teen. Once we felt we'd exhausted all of our options it was nearing midnight and we had to face the final inevitability – we were going to have to call Ronnie.

“I think we should wait a little longer,” I argued, sitting on the edge of my bed. “What if she just went out and her phone died? We're going to get Ronnie into an absolute state for no reason.”