Lailah (The Styclar Saga) (18 page)

Ruadhan left me propped against the garden furniture and helped Jonah calm the sobbing Brooke. My left arm lay heavy at my side; I could tell she hadn’t broken it, but she had at least fractured my bone. I willed it to heal quickly; I needed to protect myself if any more of them turned on me.

My stomach seemed to be pulsating; I placed my hand over it and discovered a large chunk of glass digging deep inside with very little protruding out. My whole body seized up and I was momentarily glad that I had drunk some alcohol; it was helping take the edge off the pain.

I placed my hand across my stomach to conceal the injury and waited. It took some time but eventually Ruadhan and Jonah pacified Brooke to the point where Jonah was able to lift her off the ground. Supporting Brooke’s weight, he positioned her arm around his shoulders. She would heal quickly, from whatever hurt her; that was one thing we had in common. As she cried into his chest like a little girl, he turned back to me. He looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to check I was okay. He wished he was with me, but he couldn’t be; I could see as much in his strained expression.

As they left, Ruadhan returned to my side and began picking at the loose hairs that were sticking to my cuts and grazes. “I’m so sorry, love! I’m going to get some water—I need to clean you up.” Rising to his feet, he left me.

I tried to lift off the floor with my hands, but subdued a squeal as my arm bowed under my weight. My bone was not healing as fast as I needed it to. I removed my arm from my torso and took a closer look at the sharp piece of glass that was lodged firmly to the left of my belly button. Pulling it out here, with no Gabriel and three Vampires in close proximity, was not a brilliant idea.

Hiding it once more, I began picking out the little shards of shattered glass that had cleanly sliced their way through my jeans and lace blouse. Ruadhan appeared and insisted on plucking a barbed piece from my eyebrow. His face remained composed, almost clinical. He didn’t even wince at the spurts of fresh blood as he pulled out piece after piece. The feeling in my arm was returning and I knew the fracture had almost healed. I allowed Ruadhan to wipe my face clean with a white cloth, and then he started treating me with ointments and creams. It was in vain; the scrapes and cuts would fix themselves, but I couldn’t tell him that.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Ruadhan replied with a quizzical look, scratching at the stubble on his chin with his spare hand.

“It’s my fault. I’ve come here and things have changed for you all. I have made your existence … difficult.” I teetered.

Ruadhan patted my neck lightly and I grimaced as the cloth made contact with a deeper laceration. He moved in closer and took in the state of my skin. “Jonah was about to drink from you, I can see where his fangs dug into your flesh,” he observed.

“But he didn’t, he never pierced my skin. Please don’t say anything to Gabriel—I don’t want to make things worse.”

Ruadhan ignored my plea, shrugging. “Brooke will be very regretful of her actions tomorrow,” Ruadhan said. “The two of them have a, well, complicated relationship, but she would never have killed you. I just think you should know that.”

“I know,” I lied. I had no idea how far she would go to keep Jonah for herself. “Thank you, Ruadhan,” I said somberly.

“Love, you have nothing to thank me for. Can you get up?”

“Yes, you can leave me. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you to your room,” he insisted, scooping me off the ground.

I didn’t want him to see the wound in my belly. As long as the glass was still lodged in my skin no blood could flow out; he wouldn’t be able to sense or smell it, unless he saw it.

“I’m fine, Ruadhan. Please, I just want to be by myself. Go and see to Brooke, Jonah might need your help,” I insisted.

Reluctantly, Ruadhan allowed me to slowly pace through the house and up the stairs. As I shut the door behind me, I slumped down against the wood, grabbing my side, desperately trying not to let out a loud cry. My arm, now feeling back to normal once more, meant I was able to use my hands to grasp the rug as I crawled across it to the side of the bed. I struggled to reach for the fluffy dressing gown that I had hung over the end. I dragged it down the sheets and painfully moved my body to allow it to twist around me and knotted the belt.

Inhaling a deep breath, I prepared myself to stand and move to the bathroom. There was no way I was going to stay in the house while I pulled it out. The smell of my blood would overwhelm the air. I had to get out to the gardens without being noticed, but I would need towels to apply pressure; the last thing I needed was to bleed to death.

Using the bedpost to heave myself up, I staggered to the bathroom.

I became increasingly concerned with the amount of time I was wasting. I had sent Ruadhan to Jonah and Brooke, but how long would Jonah wait to appear in my room? Not long. I couldn’t trust myself around him. When he drew me in, I lost all sense of who I was and what I wanted. He stirred emotions deep within me that I never even knew I had. I didn’t want to endanger my life and I certainly didn’t wish to jeopardize my relationship with Gabriel, whatever that had been and whatever it was becoming.

I couldn’t stay in this house anymore.

As I mulled the few options available to me, the small, dilapidated cottage in the woods came into my mind. It could afford me the privacy I desperately needed. I had to remove myself from Jonah—and from the situation here.

I grabbed some bath towels and wobbled to the door and, closing my eyes, I prayed I would make it outside unseen. Easing myself across the landing, there was no sign of Jonah, so I tiptoed down each stair, trying not to make the boards creak underfoot. I got to the bottom and leaned against the banister for a moment, then staggered down the hallway to the kitchen.

I took in a sharp breath when I saw Ruadhan at the far corner of the room reaching for a dustpan and brush. I guessed he was on clean-up duty. He spun around, surprised, but strangely he looked right through me. I threw my hands in front of my face. I was there—why couldn’t he see me?

I didn’t have time to explore this peculiarity further. I was aching and needed to get the hell out of this house. As Ruadhan wandered over, I made for the door and stepped through the frame and over the shattered glass, still barefoot. I turned back and watched confusion spread over Ruadhan’s face. He knew something was there, but I was invisible to him.

I made my way down the frozen stones, to the front door of the little house. I was filled with relief when I pushed the handle down with a squeak. The cottage was dark, but the door to the kitchen was ajar and moonlight streamed through it, stretching into the hallway. The sun shape in the tiles seemed to twinkle where the light hit it. Tired and worn, I collapsed against the brick wall with my legs sprawled over the art. I rested for a while, delaying the painful action of wrenching the glass from my stomach.

I thought of Gabriel and opened myself to him, if he were there. He wasn’t. Had something gone wrong? Or was he deliberately blocking me out while he met with Thomas?

I removed the dressing gown, and laid it over my legs for some warmth. My jeans sat low on my hips, the blouse covering the top of them. Still, I unbuttoned and unzipped them, squeezing them down even lower, eventually exposing the top of my frilly underwear. I carefully peeled my once beautiful top back and reluctantly tore it so that my midriff was fully exposed. Squeamishly, I forced myself to assess the damage.

The glass was lodged in deep, but right now it was keeping me from bleeding out. Once I removed it, blood would rush to the wound and I would have to hope that applying pressure would keep me conscious long enough for it to repair itself. I wasn’t in a position to stitch it up; I’d have to push the skin together and hold the towel down hard.

Plan ready, I fingered the bath towels that I had dumped next to me. Gripping the top of the shard, I counted to three. I figured it was similar to removing a Band-Aid; snatching it out quickly would be best. When I reached “one,” I inhaled deeply and tugged it with all my might.

As the shard of glass—now digging into my palm—glinted against the small stream of light that fell across my midriff, I let out an almighty scream. I couldn’t help it. My breathing became shallow and I tried to fight past the excruciating pain that burst through me. I bit down on my arm to stifle my voice, and dropped the piece of bloodied glass, which plinked as it bounced off the tile. I didn’t dare gaze down; grabbing for a towel, I pushed my skin together and wrapped the white cotton around my stomach, front to back, as tight as I could.

I reached for another towel, but the painted sun, which seemed to be coming to life, distracted me. It filled with sparkling dots, which raised and danced above the floor. As I watched it, captivated, a surge of warmth filled me. I couldn’t take my eyes off the silver and gold whirling around me. Without looking, I fingered the towel and pressed it down into my navel, exerting as much force as I could muster.

The gem I wore around my neck grew hot; the swirling colors seemed to be drawn to my ring, coming ever closer. I was no longer sure if I was awake or dreaming. It was one of the strangest yet truly incredible sights I had ever witnessed. While I watched it, the ache in my stomach numbed and a sense of calm swept over me. As the light from the moon outside softened and moved, the colors and sparkles disappeared with it and I was left in the darkness once again.

My feet were like two blocks of ice—I couldn’t even feel them anymore. My ring grew cold and my body began to writhe in pain again. I reached out for Gabriel, but he was still absent. My thoughts slipped away from me and hard as I tried to stay awake, my eyes closed shut. I passed out.

From the depths of my mind the blackness cleared and an image of a bright light bubbled and swelled, filling every inch of my consciousness. It was almost blinding; I was transfixed. I didn’t know if I was dreaming, but as the light dulled it was replaced by a figure: Gabriel.

Next to Gabriel, a wave of burning ash flew past in the winter wind. Shrill shrieks consumed the landscape beyond, and I realized then that Gabriel had ended Thomas, just as Jonah promised he would. I watched as Gabriel flickered and left the scene just before a mass of Vampires began hurtling over to him.

The vision jolted and bounced like a scratched DVD; then it seemed to fast-forward: Gabriel was back in the house with Hanora and Michael behind him. Looking alarmed, Ruadhan was throwing his hands in the air and talking fast. Gabriel flew from room to room. Hanora, Michael, and Ruadhan followed suit, splitting in different directions, all finally congregating back in the kitchen.

Jonah had now appeared, but Gabriel refused to face him. The only one missing was Brooke. Gabriel was at the back door, kicking what remained of the double doors, and I almost shouted at him to stop as he lifted the dustpan full of glass. He picked out several pieces, running his fingertip over the rims, presented with the remnants of my drying blood. Gabriel’s face turned to pure anger. I had never seen him so full of hate. I wondered if I was dreaming.

Gabriel flew over to Jonah and grabbed him by the neck. Ruadhan placed his hand over Gabriel’s outstretched arm, seemingly trying to defuse the situation. Brooke appeared seconds later, pleading with Gabriel and thumping his back, but he was a statue. He refused to let go. I watched as he came in and out of focus, light and color swirling, and I panicked. I had entered this vision watching him end another Vampire, Thomas, and he was shining in that same ominous way.

Gabriel, stop!
I found the voice in my head, though I had no idea if he could hear.

I surveyed Gabriel as his expression changed and, releasing Jonah, his face turned apologetic. Jonah shifted his body, ticked off but not afraid, and simply nodded in Gabriel’s direction as a sign of respect or understanding, I assumed. He walked away from the Vampires out onto the patio.

Lailah, where are you?

I was about to answer when, without warning, the picture evaporated and I not only found myself thrown into darkness, but also found my thoughts fading, and I was losing consciousness once again. It occurred to me in the last few seconds of awareness that I might well be dying.

My eyelids were heavy and refused to open, as though they were glued together. I desperately tried to gather my thoughts but my head throbbed. As feeling began to come back to my body, I became aware extremely quickly that I was suspended in Gabriel’s arms. He had reached me in time. His face was buried in my stomach and I felt a strange sensation blow through the pain. I tilted my head and opened my eyes in time to witness light cascading across my midriff, spilling out into the space around me. It was like he was parting a vast sea. As his breath met the wound, the pain subsided and then departed. I didn’t know how, but he was fixing me. As the last breath exhaled from his lungs, he paused, watching my skin close back together, sealing itself.

He laid me down flat so that I covered the sun etched into the floor, and he searched my face. His eyes were bright, glowing at me. For once he looked a bit messy; smears of dirt covered his forearms where his skin was exposed, and his once crisp white shirt was muddied. But how clean he was didn’t exactly concern me.

“G … g … a … br.…” I couldn’t find my voice.

Choking back the blood that had filled my lungs, I stopped trying to speak. I coughed violently and a rusty colored haematic liquid bubbled out from the corner of my lips.

He reacted immediately: cupping the sides of my cheeks with both hands he moved his mouth over mine. As he leaned down and grazed his top lip against mine, the same resplendent glow was gifted from him to me. I could breathe easily again.

He hovered for what felt like an eternity before caressing my skin with his soft hands and placing the lightest of kisses on my mouth. He broke from me, still lingering at my lips, waiting for my response. His hands were on my cheeks and I covered them with my own. I tangled my lips with his, gently at first, but as his top lip met my lower, I crushed myself against him. His kisses became deeper and more urgent, as though he thought I might disappear at any given moment. My hands found the back of his head, pulling him closer. Dragging my fingers through his brilliant blond curls, I felt as though I was cradling creation; he was painting me by numbers, coloring me in from top to bottom, quite literally breathing life through me. It was magic. He was magic.