Sins of the Father (The Guardians Series 2 Book 4), page 3
Unbuttoning her nightshirt, she yanked it off her shoulder and tried to extend her wing to ease the spasm, but she couldn’t. She still didn’t have enough strength in it to move it without help. She reached over her shoulder and grabbed the top ridge as it protruded from her shoulder, but it was no use. From this angle she couldn’t pull it free herself. It was stuck half extended from her back as she bit her lip to hold back a sob of pain and frustration.
Another stab of pain shot through her shoulder so intense she broke out in a sweat as she reached out and grabbed the nightstand, knocking the contents to the floor in a loud clatter and panting through the pain. The baby began to kick unmercifully against her ribs, obviously able to sense her mother’s distress, which only made the pain worse. She tried to catch her breath so that she could call out for Olivia when the door to her bathroom suddenly opened, and Sam walked out shirtless and drying his hair on one of her towels.
“Scarlett, what’s wrong?” He rushed across the room and dropped to his knees in front of her, cradling her face as she breathed heavily. “What’s wrong?”
Before she could answer, her door opened abruptly, and Olivia hurried in. “I heard a crash, is…” She stopped dead as she took in first Sam’s presence and Scarlett’s obvious pain, then her appraising gaze took in Scarlett’s half extended wing and crossed the room quickly, climbing up on the bed behind Scarlett.
“Sam, hold her,” she instructed briskly.
He did as he was told, leaning into Scarlett and pulling her against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her carefully.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but this is going to hurt,” Olivia warned her as she ripped the back of Scarlett’s nightshirt open, fully exposing her back, and gripped the top ridge of her wing.
“Just… do… it,” Scarlett panted through the pain.
The muscles of her wing felt like granite as she pulled hard. The wing kept trying to snap back and fold in on itself, but Olivia kept a tight hold of it, even when Scarlett cried out in agony. She winced silently, feeling her friend’s pain, and knowing there was no other way. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it had never been this bad before. Slowly and inexorably, she forced the wing from her back and extended it. The muscle spasmed tightly a couple more times causing Olivia to lose her grip as it tried to snap back. Finally, she got it fully extended, then she let her magic pool in her hands. She wasn’t a healer, but she knew that the heat helped the damaged muscles to relax.
“Just breathe through the pain, sweetheart,” Olivia soothed her, as Scarlett leaned against Sam, breathing heavily.
Olivia pressed her fingers along the main ridge of her wing, working along the length of it as she tried to get the muscles to unlock. Slowly she felt them loosen and the wing begin to sag against the bed. She let go, placing the wing down carefully and as she did, she noticed a small bald patch on the underneath.
“Scarlett.” She frowned. “How does your other wing feel?”
“I can’t feel it much,” she mumbled in exhaustion against Sam’s shoulder. “It’s numb most of the time.”
“I’m just going to take a look, okay?” Olivia told her calmly, although her eyes were filled with concern.
Sam watched worriedly as Olivia pressed her fingertips gently along the grooves of Scarlett’s back, watching as the top notch of her other wing appeared. Olivia grasped it firmly but gently, pulling it free and extending it with all the ease and expertise of someone who’d done this more than once.
Olivia knew something was wrong the minute she pulled the wing free, it was heavy, really heavy, a dead weight. It had a slightly musty odor to it, and as she lifted the wing and began to inspect it, several feathers came away in her hand.
“Can you feel that?” Olivia pressed along her wing.
Scarlett shook her head. “It’s numb.”
“What happened to her wings?” Sam asked quietly. His eyes flashing as his jaw clenched.
“Your father,” Olivia told him flatly.
“Olivia,” Scarlett whispered in warning.
“You think he doesn’t have a right to know?” Olivia replied, and although she kept her voice gentle, Sam could see the fury in her eyes.
Olivia looked down as more feathers dropped away revealing discolored patches of mottled skin. She didn’t need to be an expert on angel wings to know that wasn’t a good sign.
“Scarlett, I’m going to call Issac, and then I’ll get you something for the pain.”
“It’s okay.” Scarlett pushed away from Sam and sat up tentatively. “It’s easing now. It’s just when it goes into spasm and the muscles lock it’s painful.”
“Alright.” Olivia nodded. “If you’re ready, I’ll help you fold them back in, then I want you to take a long soak in a hot bath to help ease the stiffness, but I’m still calling Issac.”
“Okay,” Scarlett agreed quietly, too exhausted from the pain to argue.
Sam kept his expression carefully neutral as he watched Olivia carefully and gently fold Scarlett’s wings into her back. His stomach churned with white hot fury, which only served to renew his intention to kill his father, only now he was going to make him suffer first.
Once she was finished, Olivia climbed off the bed and turned her attention to Sam, “You.” She pointed at him. “Run her a bath and keep an eye on her and don’t even think about disappearing.” Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Theo and I both want a word with you.”
Despite the maelstrom of messy emotions churning in his gut, his mouth curved into a slow smile. “I have missed you, Olivia.”
Her eyes narrowed and she huffed non-committedly as she turned and stalked quietly out of the room.
“She’s mad at you for making her worry,” Scarlett told him quietly, as she pushed herself shakily to her feet.
“I know,” he sighed. “I guess I owe more than one person an explanation.”
She stood staring at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before turning away.
“Hey.” He caught her jaw with soft fingers as he searched her face. “You thought I’d left when you woke and I wasn’t there?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said without thinking, and for a brief second, she saw the hurt in his eyes, and she let out a sigh.
“I’m sorry that was uncalled for,” she muttered. “I’m just feeling prickly.” She rolled her shoulders unconsciously. “I…” She shook her head, pulling away from his touch and stepping back. “I just need some space.”
“Do you need some help with the bath?” he offered in concern.
“I don’t want any help, just go and see Olivia and Theo,” she replied a little sharply as she headed for the bathroom.
Her stomach was churning, and she knew from experience that after an episode with her damaged wings she was about two seconds from throwing up as the intense and prolonged pain always left her nauseous. She knew Sam was only trying to help, but the last thing she wanted right now was the added humiliation of him watching her vomit.
She made it to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it. She’d barely dropped to her knees on the hard tiles and pushed her hair back from her face as she heaved painfully. Her body seemed intent on punishing her as much as possible as she emptied the contents of her stomach, her belly clenching painfully and her ribs aching. When she was sure there was nothing left to come up, she reached up and flushed the toilet, wiping her mouth shakily on the back of her hand as she collapsed back against the wall.
The tears rolled down her cheeks as she drew in a slow breath, rubbing circles on her belly to ease the strained muscles as her daughter shifted in her womb. Her whole body just hurt, and all she wanted to do was slide down onto the cold tiled floor and close her eyes.
Because the idea was too tempting, she forced herself to move, bracing herself against the toilet seat and the wall, she pushed her heavy body off the floor and leaned over the claw foot bathtub, turning the water on full and watching as the steam began to rise. Picking up a glass bottle, she poured some of the contents into the water, inhaling as the air filled with the comforting scent of poppies and comfrey. It was something Olivia had made especially for her, to promote healing and relaxation.
She hated to admit it, but Olivia had become her savior over the past several months. When she thought back to how hard she’d tried to avoid ever meeting the mysterious Olivia West, witch and all-powerful guardian, only to discover, ironically, that Olivia was the closest thing she’d ever had to a best friend, and she honestly didn’t know what she would have done without her.
Turning away from the bath as it filled, she stripped off the remnants of the ruined night shirt and rather awkwardly pulled off her thick socks and panties, leaving her standing naked in front of the sink. She reached for her toothbrush and cleaned her teeth, washing away the taste of bile and vomit. She rinsed her mouth out with cool fresh water, but as she looked down, she jolted violently.
For a second, her fingernails were all gone, leaving nothing but a bloodied raw wound at the tip of each finger. Her fingers themselves were all broken and grotesquely deformed, the skin of her hands bruised and shredded. She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes closed. Taking slow calming breaths to slow her heart rate, which had kicked in with the sudden shot of adrenalin.
As her pulse finally calmed, she opened her eyes and looked at her hands, they were once again normal. All her fingernails were where they should be and there was no damage to her bones and skin. She looked up into her reflection almost expecting to find her face bruised and swollen, with huge hanks of her hair torn out and leaving raw patches of exposed flesh, but it was just her own pale reflection, and huge glassy eyes staring back at her.
Drawing in a relieved breath, she turned the water off and slowly eased her body into the bathtub, feeling the warm soothing water lap against the sides of her huge belly. She shifted slightly trying to find a comfortable position for her aching back and shoulders. The intense pain in her wings had dulled to a muted throb that was constant now. Rolling her neck, she traced lazily circles over her stomach, watching contentedly as the little bumps and ripples of a tiny elbow or foot appeared in her skin.
Scarlett tipped her head back against the rim of the bath, staring up at the ceiling as she continued to stroke her belly, her mind drifting. Thomas hadn’t just broken her body, there was something deep inside her that was irrevocably damaged. The flashbacks weren’t as often now, but they were always there. They seemed to slip through in moments when she felt most vulnerable, a stark reminder of what Thomas had done to her. Not just her, she thought darkly. He’d done the same to her mother, and they’d both suffered the same fate at the hands of Sam’s father. The only difference was she’d escaped whereas her mother, or what was left of her, had been cast down into Purgatory, the one place no one ever returned from. Purgatory was ever lasting pain and suffering.
Scarlett closed her eyes painfully, knowing that her mother would spend eternity in agony, trapped in an endless cycle of days, her wounds never healing. She’d always tried so hard not to think about that. It had always terrified her from the time she was a child and Thomas had forced her and her half-brother, Ash, to witness the torture and casting out of their mother. She’d always feared suffering the same fate, having now experienced that fate herself, the fear was being slowly replaced with one even more terrifying. Thomas had tortured her mother, then he’d come after her, and now, she was afraid that the next time history repeated itself, it would be her daughter paying the price.
Sam paused outside the door to the kitchen, taking a slow breath before stepping into the warm, brightly lit room. His gaze fell on the figure sitting at the breakfast table, sipping a cup of coffee.
Theo raised his head, his dark eyes locking on Sam as he appeared in the doorway. He looked ill, Sam thought to himself. The last time he’d seen Theo had been the night of the awakening right before he’d been captured by Ash and taken to the Otherworld. Although it hadn’t been quite as long for him, as time passed differently in the spirit worlds, but he knew that as far as Olivia and Theo were concerned they hadn’t seen him in nearly three years.
Theo stood quietly, the only sound in the room was the sudden and loud grind of the chair legs on the floor. Sam watched as Theo crossed the few steps between them and wordlessly embraced him. Something deep inside Sam’s gut slowly unfurled, something he hadn’t even been aware was knotted so tightly. Theo had always been a man of few words and Sam was grateful for it at that particular moment. He knew there was still so much for him to explain, to apologize for, and to warn them of in the coming days, but for that one brief moment, he drew in the simple comfort of friendship and the calm acceptance and quiet strength of the man he’d saved from a burning barn three hundred years ago.
“Sam,” Theo said simply, as he released him and stepped back.
Sam studied his face, now that he was standing closer, Theo didn’t look any older, but he looked, worn, he supposed was the word. The tension bracketing his eyes and mouth held a certain weariness. His body was thinner, his skin paler, and he didn’t look well, not sick exactly. More like a man who was still recovering from a long and debilitating illness.
“What happened to you, Theo?” Sam asked quietly.
“It’s a long story my friend.” Theo smiled, and Sam caught a glimpse of the man he remembered. “What about you?”
Sam’s lips twisted in a faintly mocking and sardonic smile. “Long story.”
Theo turned toward the other end of the kitchen, and Sam followed his gaze as it landed on Olivia who was standing in front of a huge pot, which was bubbling on the stove, filling the air with the scent of earthy herbs. On the counter to her right was a huge, heavy cast iron stand and propped open on it was an old looking leather bound book with dry parchment-like pages, filled with a faint handwritten scrawl and rough illustrations and diagrams.
She watched Sam flatly with those familiar whiskey-colored eyes, one hand propped on her hip and the other holding an old wooden spoon while she wore an apron that proclaimed in a loud print, ‘It wasn’t my fault I was left unsupervised during the full moon.’
He crossed the kitchen toward her silently, her expression not quite as forgiving as her husband’s had been. As he reached her, she tilted her head to look up into his vivid blue eyes. She’d just opened her mouth to speak when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in and hugging her so tightly that as he buried his face in her shoulder she almost couldn’t suck any air into her lungs.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “Thank you for taking care of her, taking care of them both.”
Olivia softened, letting out a small, deflated sigh as her hand left her hip, and she wrapped her arms around him, trying not to smack him with the spoon as she patted his back soothingly.
“You certainly know how to take the wind out of my sails, Sam,” she said softly, her voice, although put out was still laced with affection. He drew back slowly to look at her. “How is she?” Olivia muttered.
“She didn’t want me to help her,” Sam breathed heavily. “I could hear her being sick in the bathroom.”
Olivia nodded. “She gets like that when the pain’s been particularly bad.” She stared at Sam, reading his concern, and understanding his feeling of helplessness. “Just give her time,” she told Sam softly in understanding. “She’s been through a lot, and she hasn’t seen you in a while. I’m sure the last thing she wants is you sitting watching her vomit the first time you two are back in each other’s orbit.”
He nodded. “I just wish I could…” He broke off in frustration. Could do what? Undo what his father had done to her, been there for her, been honest with her, never left her in the first place? He did wish all of the above but wishing wasn’t going to turn back the clock or reverse the damage that had been done.
“Why don’t you go and sit down.” She nodded toward Theo who’d resumed his place at the table and was pouring himself a bowl of cereal. “I’ll make you some breakfast. Scarlett will be down when she’s ready.”
“Breakfast?” Sam replied suspiciously, as he glanced down at the dark contents of the bubbling pot on the stove.
“This isn’t for you,” she replied primly, indicating toward the book on the stand. “My Great-Aunt Evie was quite a talented healer. That’s her grimoire, and in it is the recipe for her restorative tea, which apparently was passed down from our ancestor Bridget West. It seems to help ease Scarlett’s pain and it’s not harmful to the baby.”
Sam’s gaze softened as he stared at Olivia before she shooed him toward the table.
“I’ve called Julien and Issac,” she told him as he took a seat, and Theo poured him a coffee. “They should be here soon.” She looked up at the shrill sound of the doorbell and accompanied by a loud knocking. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured.
“I’ll get it.” Theo stood and slipped out of the room.
Sam watched Theo disappear and turned to Olivia. “Is he okay?” he asked in concern. “He looks ill.”
“He’s… recovering,” she answered after a moment, her worried gaze drifting to the doorway.
“From what?” Sam asked.
“It’s part of that long story,” she sighed. “We’ll get to it I’m sure, but there are other things to discuss first.” She stared at him pointedly.
“I know.” Sam shook his head. “But we might as well wait for Scarlett to join us. I’m not keeping any more secrets from her.”
“Hallelujah,” Olivia muttered dryly under her breath as Theo walked back into the room followed by Julien. “Where’s Issac?” She frowned.
“It’s nice to see you too, Olivia.” Julien grinned. “Don’t worry,” he added. “He’s headed upstairs to check on Scarlett… ooh toast.” He leaned over the table and helped himself to a slice, biting into it and chewing thoughtfully. “You got any of Liddy Mayberry’s blackberry preserve?”
