Lover Arisen, page 24
She watched his mind work through the subtle shifts in his facial muscles, his lips tightening, his brows dropping and raising, his jaw working as if he were grinding his back teeth. Indeed, he was stitching together things he had overlooked, pulling the truth out of a series of previously unconnected details. And that was life, was it not. One went about, not aware that the superficial details were but a screen for a revelation yet to materialize.
“What exactly did you do to me?” he demanded.
* * *
Sitting on Rahvyn’s hospital bed, his legs dangling off the side, one hand braced on the mattress, Nate was aware of feeling different in his own skin. It was hard to put a bead on exactly what was so off. The closest he could come to defining the sensation was what he’d experienced in the nights immediately after his transition.
He was supercharged. Vibrating with energy. Not just alive, but… awakened.
And his brain was crackling with thoughts and memories—although that could be a result of his confusion over this whole thing with her. He kept thinking back to going out into the field behind the house with Shuli to investigate that celestial show and impact. Rahvyn—or Elyn, as he’d known her at first—had been back there in the forest, standing apart from the others who had likewise come to check things out.
Then he could remember when he’d spoken to her the following evening, and fireflies had circled her, the little sparks of light casting a beautiful illumination on her delicate face.
At the time, he hadn’t questioned where the insects had come from. But he’d never seen them before out there in the cold and hadn’t seen them since.
If he was honest… he wasn’t sure what the pinpoints of lights had actually been.
And then he recalled that moment in her bedroom when she’d looked into his eyes and he’d felt a strange draining feeling, as if she had been reading his mind. The horror that had come into her face had sure as hell made it seem like she knew all the details of his past, everything from his time in that lab, and all the pain and the fear he’d suffered as he’d been experimented on by those humans, to the death of his mahmen there and his impossible rescue.
“I was at the door unto the Fade,” he heard himself say. “And I didn’t just stand in front of it, I opened it and I stepped through. I was on the other side…”
Hazy memories, of a white landscape and then something so beautiful he didn’t have the words to describe it, flooded his mind, blinding him to the hospital room, even to her. But he came back from the vision of eternal glory.
Just as he had come back from what had been his death.
“I was dead.” He focused on her. “And you did something to me, didn’t you.”
The female he had been thinking about nonstop—ever since he’d seen her at the meteor strike—whose presence he’d sought out and tried to be cool about at Luchas House, whose face he had fantasized being close to his own as they’d shared a first kiss… was suddenly a stranger.
“Who are you.”
As she lowered her head, her white hair fell forward, her features obscured by the waves. When she finally spoke, it was with sadness.
“You shall ne’er worry for death’s cold hand coming to land upon your shoulder. You are free of the mortal burden of the grave. You are… immortal, Nate.”
The impact of the words was delayed, his brain reexamining the syllables like they were an archaeology site, sure that on the first pass he’d misinterpreted a few. Most.
Try all.
“I’m not hearing you right,” he said numbly.
“You are released from death’s leash, ne’er shall it come to claim you.”
“How…” He rubbed his face. “I don’t understand.”
“I could not let you die.” The dewy, salty scent of tears wafted up and she brushed her eyes with hands that trembled. “Your parents were weeping over your body, the Brothers were outside your door… and it was my fault. I was the reason you were hit—”
Nate recoiled. “How was it your fault?”
“I halted by the human and thus so did you. Or mayhap I set it all in motion even before that.” She sniffled. “If I had been able to withstand more of the chaotic interior of the club Dandelion, we would not have departed then. You would not have been shot. You would not… have died.”
“None of that makes it your fault.”
Rahvyn tucked her hair behind her ears and her eyes were luminous as they looked at him. “Nate, I am sorry. I have given you no gift. It is a complication with heartbreaking implications.”
Like someone who was lost in an unfamiliar territory, one that might or might not be threatening, his senses came alive and he glanced around the room on reflex. Oh, they’d had this conversation in front of an audience: His parents and Sahvage were in the room with them. And unsurprisingly, the adults all looked grave and serious. Then again, this was pretty unparalleled.
If what she said was true, no matter how unbelievable it sounded, then he had been reborn in a way that went against the natural order of things.
And she was something altogether different than just a civilian female of unknown origins who was related to a member of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.
She was powerful in a way that dwarfed even the Great Blind King.
She was powerful like the Scribe Virgin.
“And now I’m here,” he murmured absently.
“I could not let you go.” Her voice cracked. “I could not… bear to lose you, Nate.”
The white noise in his head instantly calmed down, the fire of his spinning, vaguely panicking thoughts doused.
Of all the things she’d said to him, the simple words struck the biggest chord.
Which, considering a female he was in love with had told him she’d turned him into an immortal, was really saying something about the way males work.
The idea Rahvyn might feel something in return for him was… like being immortal. Nothing could touch him.
“But I don’t understand who you are,” he said softly.
“I am what I am.”
“Popeye.”
“Pardon me, I know not pop-eyed?”
“It was a cartoon character. When I was in the lab, sometimes they let me have a TV and I watched both the animated show and the movie. ‘I yam what I yam.’ ”
“Oh.”
As she fell into another silence, there was such a somberness to her, her eyes downcast, her shoulders tucked into herself. He had a thought that he was going to remember this hospital room, with its hospital bed and its single padded chair and its medical equipment so discreetly tucked away, for the rest of his…
Life.
“I’m going to live forever?” he asked as uneasiness threaded through his chest again.
“You are not going to have death.”
“So I can’t die?” He imagined the earth hit by an even bigger meteor and him floating out in space, spinning slowly in the cosmic void, for infinity and beyond. Permanently Buzz Lightyear.
“You do not die.”
“How did you do it?”
“I took you to the plane of creation. And now you are both different and the same. There is no going back and there was no way to ask you what you wanted. I believe you will find there are benefits and tragedies to this state. Then again, perhaps that is just like a normal life, the good and the bad intertwined. The difference for you being, now, that there shall be no end.”
He stared at her, rememorizing her features, trying to catalog all the changes he now saw in what had been so familiar to him. Then he thought of his parents, and the way they had looked as he had come to, the confusion, the tears… the grief that had shattered their souls.
“You did the right thing,” he said abruptly. “I don’t… understand a lot of this, but I wouldn’t trade being here for anything.”
There was no relief in her as he spoke. Just that grim cast to her eyes.
“I hope you continue to feel that way,” she whispered. “I truly do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
You sure you’re okay with this?”
As Balz put the question out there, he realized he was being a little duplicitous. His eyes were staring out the front windshield of the old silver Honda, locked on the front door of a nice little townhouse—and unless Erika had pulled them up at the garage door of someone else’s pad, this was where she lived.
In his mind, he was already inside, taking a shower in one of her bathrooms.
After which, he was getting in between the cool sheets of her bed and pulling her into his naked-ass body—
No, I’m not doing that.
She turned and looked across the front seats. “I’m sorry? What?”
Shit, he’d spoken that out loud. “Oh, nothing.” He glanced at her. “I just want to make sure this is really what you want to do.”
“You have nowhere to stay, right?” She shrugged. “And the more I thought about those shadows… I’m not sure I can defend myself against them without you. Besides, I was safe with you before. You’ve never been aggressive toward me, and I also don’t have to worry about your buddies coming after me.”
“Like I said, they won’t harm you.”
“Because I’m your female, right?” She narrowed her eyes. “I heard one of them say that.”
“It’s a term of art.” Whatever the fuck that meant—and who the hell had been throwing around the f word? “And you’re right. If I’m with you… those shadows have a big goddamn problem.”
His female, huh. He wasn’t sure he could argue with that, but there had been plenty of revelations already for one night—ah, crap. Had he really bonded with her? Then again, the rule of thumb with that for male vampires was, if you were even entertaining the question, the answer was probably yes.
Great. Another layer to this shit cake—
“Hold on, is that…” She frowned and leaned into her window. “Is that my bag?”
Balz looked across the dashboard again. Sure enough, right on the front stoop, just outside of the light thrown by the lantern over the mailbox, was the purse he had seen her carrying.
“How did it get here?” she asked as she popped her door open.
Well, at least he knew the answer to that one, and it wasn’t a bad surprise.
Thank you, V, he thought as he jumped out himself.
Balz stayed tight on her heels as she hit a little walkway with a long stride, and about halfway to her front door, he realized how ridiculous he looked: He was still nakie with a sheet wrapped around his hey-nannies, and he had a gun down at one thigh and a duffle bag full of click-click-bang-bang hanging off his other shoulder.
Too bad this wasn’t Halloween for the humans. He could have called himself a flasher-assassin and maybe gotten away with it.
Plus, hey, guy shows up on your trick-or-treat doorstep with a forty caliber in his palm, you were likely to dump your bowl of candy wherever he told you to put the stuff. So he’d clean up and Rhage would be psyched.
As for the duffle’s contents, Erika knew what was in his little carry-on. She had watched as he had taken the autoloaders and the snub-nosed shotgun from the safe back at the garage—and he’d been sure to pack up plenty of ammunition, too. The way she hadn’t reacted to that amount of metal had made him sad: She had to have seen a lot to be that calm. Then again, she dealt with death every day in her job, didn’t she.
Three stone steps up, and she was picking up the purse. He braced himself for her to rifle through it out here in the open. She didn’t. She linked her arm into the straps, and lickety-split, unlocked the dead bolt and cranked the knob. They were inside in the blink of an eye and she locked up just as quick.
Although honestly, how safe were they anywhere? From the shadows, that was. From Devina, as well.
While Erika put the bag down on the coffee table and started to go through it, he glanced around. The layout was as he expected, this living area opening to a kitchen in the back that had an alcove you could eat in. A staircase ran up the solid common wall behind him, and he could see two open doorways on the second floor.
The furnishings were not fancy, but looked really comfortable, even though nothing particularly matched. It was as if Erika had collected the couch and chairs and the side tables piece by piece, to plug holes in function, rather than to coordinate colors.
Oddly, there were no pictures or photographs anywhere, not on the walls, not on the mantelpiece over the electric fireplace, not on the built-in shelves on either side of that hearth.
If you looked past the lack of harmony in the decor, it was like the showcase model of the development, an anonymous, clean stage set occupied by no one but a salesperson.
He tilted into the bow front window behind the couch and parted the closed drapes. Outside, there were ten other buildings along the dead-ended road, each one bifurcated, the scale of things modest, the couple of cars parked outside of the garages sedans or trucks that were less than five years old. If he had to guess, the structures had been built in the eighties, so that things were old, but kept up well.
“It’s all here.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “My gun, my cell phone, even my badge. But how did it get back here—”
He let the curtains fall back into place. “My friends took care of things.”
“What do you mean, ‘took care of things.’ ”
“You know, made sure there was nothing left behind before they called in the scene at the bookshop.”
“Called in to who? Nine-one-one?”
When he nodded, she shook her head, but not like she was disagreeing with him. More like she felt as though her thoughts were fuzzy or she’d missed something.
“Why would they do that?” she mumbled.
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s human business.”
“Human… business.” Closing her eyes, she said to herself, “I need a beer.”
Balz followed her into the kitchen that took up the rear of the townhouse. The color scheme was cream and yellow, the wallpaper all sunflowers with green leaves, the linoleum a speckled saffron color, everything faded but in good condition. Likewise, the appliances were older but clean, and the countertops were Formica, not the granite you saw so much of in newer places.
Dated. All of it was dated, probably even the original stuff. But it was also a place where he instantly relaxed, although that probably had to do with Erika rather than anything in the environment itself.
On that note, he went over to the little circular table in the alcove and sat on a chair that he was mostly sure would hold his weight. A wicker light fixture on a chain hung down low, and centered under it was a napkin holder that was empty.
“I don’t keep a lot of food around,” she announced as she headed for the fridge. “Fortunately, I have four bottles of Miller Lite.”
She got two of them out and came over to him. After she handed him his, she twisted the top off the other one and took a long sip. Then another. As she sat down, he just wanted to stare at her, but considering he’d looked at her for most of the trip over here in that old Honda, it was probably better to play it cool.
Cool-er.
Cool… ish.
“So you’re telling me,” she said after she took another draw off the glass bottle, “that if I call dispatch, they’re going to report that a body at that address has been phoned in already.”
“Yup.”
“Do you people do that a lot around here?”
He shrugged and opened his beer. “It’s not the first time.”
“I’m just going to text my partner and ask. No offense.”
“None taken,” he murmured as she got out her phone.
The instant she looked at the screen, her brows went together. Then she went into what seemed like her texts or her emails, and started reading something.
Balz looked out to the living room. As he measured the couch, he totally pictured himself sleeping on it, his head on one end propped up by that throw cushion, feet dangling off the far—
Shit. Windows.
Or did he really think that he’d magically outgrown a vampire’s sensitivity to sunlight in the last, oh, twelve hours?
“I may not be able to stay here during the day,” he said.
She glanced up. “You’re right. A call came in from nine-one-one. My partner’s on the case. Man, what a night.”
“I’m glad. The old man’s family has a right to be notified.”
“Yes, they do.” Erika stared at the little glowing screen. “And I should notify my department that I was there.”
In the pause that followed, he knew she was thinking to herself: But what the hell can I tell them that won’t make me sound crazy.
“We’re going to figure this out,” he volunteered.
Her eyes lifted to his. “If I knew what the ‘this’ was, I might feel more optimistic.”
Actually, you’d probably feel worse, he thought.
“And honestly…” She released a long sigh. Took another sip from her beer. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Balz blinked. And then felt himself go red in the face. Which was totally a flush from the alcohol. ’Cuz Miller Lite packed one helluva punch.
“You are?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “I really am.”
* * *
Erika had to look away from Balthazar. Like she was frickin’ twelve and had just admitted to having a crush on Billy Wittenhauer in seventh grade.
Which was something that had actually happened, so the metaphor, simile, whatever, truly did apply.
Or maybe it was just a comparison, she conceded. Instead of anything grammar-glamorous.
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he said.
There was a period of silence, and she was aware that there was a big question she wanted to ask him, maybe “the” big question. She wasn’t sure she could handle the answer, though. So she asked a less dire one on the dip-your-toes-in-cold-water theory.
“That brunette woman…” She took another swig from her beer. “What is she? Really.”
Balthazar’s brows went together over his eyes. “You sure you want to do this right now?”
