What the Heart Takes (36 page)

“I know that look,” she confessed, drawing his attention to her. It returned to Layne right after. “Can you hear his thoughts?” Her father nodded, though he showed a great amount of reluctance in doing so. “What is he thinking?”

“It’s nothing bad, Heaven.” He turned his head in Dylan’s direction, giving her husband a grim expression before he faced her again. “He’s thinking about you. He senses your presence.”

She wondered if that meant Layne heard her begging him to wake up, to come back to her. “Is he getting better?”

Her father stared harder, though she couldn’t tell if it was because he was concentrating on Layne’s thoughts or avoiding her question. He held the same quizzical expression for a few more seconds. The flow of his energy pulsed with just as much inquisitiveness. When the tension she expelled reached its peak, his eyes made it to hers.

“He isn’t thinking about anything but you, so I can’t tell by his thoughts if he’s getting better. I will say this much. The fact that he hasn’t had another seizure is encouraging. I think your presence is keeping him stable.”

She hoped she was doing something for him after he’d sacrificed himself for her. Funny how she knew it would come to this, that the part of him he tried to hide, the part of him impassioned by her, is what saved her life. No matter how much he pretended not to care, his actions said much more.

“Is everything okay?” The grogginess in Dylan’s voice had her turning in his direction. He pushed himself into an upright position and placed his feet on the floor. He remained seated on the chaise lounge, his elbows leaning against his knees as he stifled a yawn.

“Dad and I were discussing Layne, how he hasn’t had any more seizures. The Healer should be here within thirty minutes.”

The intensity of Dylan’s stare had her squirming against the mattress, even if he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on Layne. “Good,” he mumbled, staring at his friend long enough to increase the anxiety in his energy. Then he looked toward the floor. “Hopefully, he’ll make a speedy recovery.”

Try as he may, he couldn’t hide the irritation he felt for her Keeper. She didn’t expect any less, not after the way she’d reacted to Layne’s attack. He had every right to be upset with her, but not Layne. Her Keeper hadn’t asked to be shot with an arrow. He was doing what he was created to do—protect her.

It was her father who dispersed the tension building between them. He stood from the corner of the bed, making his way around to the side where Dylan sat. “I know you are dealing with a lot right now,” he began, as he removed the newspaper from under his arm, extending it toward Dylan, “but I think there’s something else you need to see.”

Dylan pressed his fingers to the edge, drawing it to his lap. The second it unfolded, his energy shifted. Strong waves of anger beat within him. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

His eyes flashed to hers as he flipped the front of the paper in her direction. She noticed the spotlight photo in the center of the page. It was the third time she and Dylan had appeared in the paper together. The last two instances focused on one thing—the fact that she had a ring on her finger. The former, her engagement ring; the latter, her wedding band.

“Fucking paparazzi,” Dylan grumbled as he turned the paper back around. A crimson shade flushed his cheeks when he exchanged looks with her father. “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said—”

“Save it,” her father snorted, waving Dylan’s apology away. “I said the same when I saw it. It’s all over the Internet too. Why was the press there?”

“I don’t know, other than someone in the bar made a call. Layne was on stage performing with a local band when we got there.” He didn’t hide the irritation in his voice, irritation that remained in his energy since the moment they found Layne behind the drums. “You know what this means, don’t you?” He waited until her father nodded before looking at her. His jaw tightened and then released. “My father will come looking for us. If the Internet articles don’t grab his attention, this paper will. It’s like a neon sign flashing the words
here we are
over our heads.”

“But it’s a national newspaper,” she added.

“Doesn’t matter. It still says we were spotted in Cleveland. He knows your family is here. He’ll make the connection.” He scoffed at another thought and clenched his hand into a fist. “We’re not even including the fact that Raphe is real. Now that we know, I question if he’s working for my dad. Either way, my dad will be here.” His dark hair shimmied as he shook his head, stealing another peek at their friend. “Considering where Layne is, I think we need to get you out of Brightsville, Heaven.”

Her stomach sank lower, churning as much as it was burning. She didn’t want to fight with her husband, not after neglecting him all morning. But if he tried to make her leave, he’d have one hell of fight to contend with.

“I am not going anywhere. We can’t move Layne, and I’m not leaving without him.”

His eyes twitched tighter as his nostrils flared. “Even if it means I’ll lose you and our daughter?”

She had her lips parted, ready to blast back, but the weight of his words hit her. They’d joked around before about the baby being a girl, but there was no humor in his words this time.

“Daughter?” She pushed her way off the bed, using the nightstand beside her as leverage. Once her feet hit the carpet, she stepped closer to the chair, eyeing her husband as he slowly stood. “I thought you said you didn’t know.”

“I—I did say…damn it.” His lids snapped shut, face pinched tighter. Regret quaked within him when he opened them again. “I’m sorry, Heaven,” his shoulders slumped as he exhaled. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I had to get your attention. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but it’s too late now.”

“What is all the commotion up here?” her mother asked as she rushed into the room. Delia was a step behind. She lingered in the archway, with Spencer right behind her.”

“We saw our picture in the paper, Anna. My dad will see it too. It’s just a matter of time before he shows up. I need to get Heaven out of here before he does.”

“You can’t do that, Dylan,” Her mother insisted. Heaven watched her cross the room, moving around her father so that she gained Dylan’s full attention. “For one, it’s better to stay together until we sense a threat. Second, we have to see what happens with Layne. If my daughter’s presence is keeping him stable, taking her away would mean a death sentence for him.”

“Keeping her here means a death sentence for her and my child. ”

“You mean our
daughter
,” Heaven sneered.

He turned to her, mouthing the words,
I’m sorry
before hanging his head. “Let’s just wait and see what happens with the Healer. When will she be here?”

“She’s right here.”

An unfamiliar voice resonated from the hall. Heaven glanced at the doorway, watching Delia and Spencer move into the room. A woman stood just outside the door, her blonde hair lay in waves around her face. The rest was pinned in an updo. Pale green eyes surveyed the room as she stepped inside, followed by someone else. A man who stood a few inches shorter than Heaven’s father kept in step with her. Both looked to be her parents’ age, and there was something oddly familiar about the woman. Something about the shape of her eyes and the pout of her lips made her—

“Layla?” Dylan’s voice rang with the question, his eyes locked on the woman approaching the edge of the bed. “What are you and Dane doing here?”

She exchanged glances with Heaven and then turned to answer. “We’re here for our son. I have to heal him.”

The news had Heaven dropping to the edge of the bed. The Healer was none other than Layla Perry, Layne’s mother. That meant the man standing behind her was Dane, Layne’s father. She wasn’t sure what abilities he had, nor did she have time to ask. Layla was jerking a bag off her shoulder. She laid it on the bed by Layne’s legs, unzipping it as fast as she could.

“I understand he fell in the line of duty.” She kept her eyes on the bag, pulling out candles. The first four were white; the last two were purple and magenta. When no one responded to her question, she glanced up, taking turns meeting each set of eyes staring back.

“He was protecting me, if that’s what you mean.”

She narrowed her eyes in Heaven’s direction, scanning her from head to toe. “Then that makes you my son’s Seeker.” Once Heaven nodded, Layla handed her one of the white candles, along with the magenta. “Set these on the nightstand behind you.”

As Heaven gripped the thick pillars in her hands, Layne’s mother placed another white one and the purple one on the opposite nightstand. She turned back to the bag, digging out a set of golden chalices. After laying them on the bed, her hand returned to the bag. It rustled around until she pulled out a bottle of water first, and then a container of salt.

Placing one of the chalices between her candles, she filled it with water, and then turned to the remaining one. A stream of white granules poured from the salt container into the other cup. She handed it to Heaven when she’d finished, along with a lighter. “Put this between the candles and then light them. I’ll do the same here.”

Heaven wasted no time in placing the cup on the nightstand, lighting the white candle first, the magenta last. When she turned back to face Layla, she noticed her leaning across the bed with another white candle in her hand. “Light this one too, and let it crown his head. Be careful not to spill the wax.”

Layla stood straight and walked toward the end of the bed. She motioned for Heaven’s father to join her, handing the candle off to him before lighting it. “Keep this one below his feet.”

Her father nodded, stepping to the footboard a second later. Layla returned to her spot opposite Heaven. She leaned over her son again, trailing her fingers over the tape securing his bandage. Her finger caught the edge, rolling the adhesive from his skin. The blood-drenched gauze loosened a second later, but Layla didn’t pull it free. She worked it back and forth, tugging a little until it worked itself loose.

Dylan’s energy zipped around Heaven, drawing her eyes back to him. He faced the bed, staring at the open gash in Layne’s chest. For the first time since Layne was shot, he had a genuine sense of concern for his friend. Guess the reality of the situation had caught up with him.

Curling her legs to her side, she leaned closer to Layne’s head, holding the candle less than a foot from the top. His energy pulsed in a slow, solemn rhythm, yet no amount of heat filled it. It was void of emotion as well.

Curiosity got the best of her. She looked at the wound in her Keeper’s chest, and then her gut twisted in complaint. It was a miracle it wasn’t infected. Of course, with all the blood, both dry and fresh, covering most of his chest, an infection would be hard to spot.

Layla stretched her arms forward, cupping her hands like she would for water. Then she flipped them, palm down. She positioned them above Layne’s face, though she never touched him. With a slow, sweeping motion, she worked her way down his body, keeping her hands a couple inches higher. Her eyes fluttered shut when she reached his feet and started back up. The pulse of her energy felt warm, nothing like Layne’s but more like a cozy fire. Most of it emitted from her hands.

Once she made it back to Layne’s chest, she hovered over the gash. She remained in this stance for what seemed like forever. Her lips moved together like she was talking under her breath, but no sound escaped.

Repeating the process again, she slowed her movements, hesitating at Layne’s forehead, throat, chest, and stomach before moving back to his chest. Positive sparks of energy radiated from her soul. She didn’t say a word, but Heaven knew she was urging her son to open his eyes.

Time ticked on as everyone stood about the room, all eyes on mother and son. Heaven focused on the vibes in the air. Most were just as positive as Layla’s, including Dylan’s. Yet seeds of doubt began to spring.

“It’s not working,” Layla confessed. She flipped her hands over, staring at her palms, and then her husband. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

The words kinked Heaven’s heart. “What do you mean it’s not working?”

“He’s not responding to the cleansing, or the healing,” Layla answered, returning her hands to Layne’s chest. “The wound should have begun coagulating by now. Regeneration normally follows, but his body isn’t doing either.”

“Do you need me to step in?”

Dane’s voice sounded as grim as the expression on his face. Pain waked in his energy, a sure sign that whatever he was referring to couldn’t be good. Still, Heaven had to know what that something was.

“What exactly do you mean, Mr. Perry?”

“It’s Dane,” he interjected, pinning her with his gaze. “Please, call me Dane, sweet girl. You should be on a first-name basis with the man who is about to deliver you bad news.”

Heaven bit back the bitter taste in her mouth as she set the candle on the nightstand. She forced herself to swallow, hoping to remove the dryness constricting her throat. “What bad news?”

“You see, my wife has a gift that everyone welcomes. She heals the sick and injured. In most cases, she is successful.” He lingered near the foot of the bed beside her father. “When she isn’t successful, I’m there to help out. I’m a soul guide. If you’ve heard of mediums, what I do is similar, but I do more than talk to spirits. I guide them to the next world.”

The beat of her heart echoed in her ears. She stared at Layne’s father, praying he didn’t mean what she thought he did. “What do you mean, the
next world
?”

“I help them cross over to the white light that awaits us all.”

Heaven had just enough time to process his words when she noticed him coming toward Layne. Ice filled her veins as she jumped from the bed, trying to block his view of his son.

“No!” she shouted. “Don’t you dare take a step closer. Just…just back up now. Back up and leave. You’re not needed here.”

Regret loomed in Dane’s eyes, as much as his energy. It coincided with the ache she sensed in his heart. Layne was his son. The last thing he wanted was to help him cross over, but it didn’t stop him from continuing forward. “I’m sorry, Heaven, but I can’t leave.”