Blood Revealed (20 page)

“Do you always let him stay at home when he wants to?”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze flickered past him and around him, avoiding his eyes.

“What happened when the Summani threatened your children?”

Jake’s head jerked up, his attention caught. “Why do you want to know?” he demanded. His voice was strained and broke oddly, too stressed to maintain an even tenor.

“Don’t worry about it, Jake,” Blythe said quickly. “You go back to your game.”

Jake’s shoulders slumped and he turned his gaze back to the laptop without protest. It seemed to Patrick that he was
relieved
to be able to focus back on the game. It was an odd game that didn’t seem to require the use of the mouse, or taps on the buttons to fire imaginary weapons.

He was just looking at the screen.

Patrick hid his rising concern and turned back to Blythe once more. “You don’t see it, do you?”

“Why did you say you were here, again?” she said, frowning.

“You can’t see it because you’re stuck in the same ocean of denial.”

“Did Dominic send you? Did he finally tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Her gaze slid away again. “You should go.”

“There’s no way I’m stepping out of this house until you see it.”

“
See what
?” she snapped.

Patrick thrust out his arm, pointing at Jake. “
Look
at him. Really look at him. Dominic told me that the first Summani you came across threatened Jake and he held his ground. That would be a shock for anyone, not just a fifteen-year-old kid. Look at him, Blythe. He hasn’t slept properly in weeks. He’s not even really living. He’s just moving through his days.”

“Jake is just fine,” she said stiffly and picked up the kettle to pour the boiling water. Except there was no cup or filter ready. She looked around the kitchen, frowning. Then she put the kettle back on the range, opened a cupboard and pulled down a coffee cup and put it on the counter.

“You can’t see it because you’re locked into your own world of hurt,” Patrick said, keeping his voice low and non-threatening. “You’re not sleeping either. You’re losing track of simple details. You’re letting Jake stay home from school because it’s easier to give in than argue with him. Does any of that sound familiar to you?”

There was a deep crease between her eyes and they glistened with what might be tears. Her mouth worked, then she pressed her lips together and held it still. She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not and you know that. You’ve been here before.”

“Mom, what’s he talking about?” Jake asked. There was a thread of alarm in his voice. He was listening now.
Really
listening.

That was the chink he needed. Patrick turned to him. “It happens whenever someone experiences a trauma that leaves them feeling helpless and out of control. That’s why you’re not sleeping. You keep reliving that night over and over and every time you do, you
feel
all the same panic and helplessness, all over again. It’s beating your body and brain up, never letting them rest.”

Jake swallowed. “Mom?” he said, sounding like a scared little boy.

“What I’m talking about is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Patrick continued evenly.

“You’re wrong,” Blythe said forcefully. “You’re wrong, you’re scaring my son and I think you should leave.”

Patrick turned to her. “You
know
I’m right. This isn’t the first time you’ve experienced it. Dominic told me everything, only he never connected the dots. He told me you couldn’t stop stabbing the Summani. The way he described it, I think that for a few minutes you weren’t even really conscious. Your mind blanked out.”

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the teabag she was unraveling.

“Mom,” Jake said, his voice shaking. “Listen to him.”

“I knew that first day we met that there was something you were hiding. I think this was it. I think you knew in your heart that the PTSD had returned, you just didn’t want anyone to know. The symptoms were minor then, but they’re growing fast. Each time you go out to hunt, it gets worse.”

Blythe stopped pretending to make tea. She gripped the ends of the counter, her knuckles white and her head down. The fine black hair hung over her eyes.

“You’re so focused on your own pain that you didn’t see it in Jake. That’s understandable and it’s fixable. What I don’t get is why you thought hiding it was a good idea. These days, when everyone is in constant danger, everyone will understand—”

“I can’t be a zombie!” she cried, lifting up her head and glaring at him.

Patrick hesitated, lost.

Jake wasn’t. He got to his feet. “The drugs,” he whispered, staring at her, like he was putting it together fast.

That was enough for Patrick to understand, too. His reading had been thorough. “The anti-depressants?” he asked. “They would have put you on a regimen when you got back from Afghanistan….”

“Mom hasn’t taken anything for years,” Jake said. “I watched her empty them all down the sink.”

Blythe shook her head. Her eyes were still glistening. “Do you know what it’s like, to take that stuff? Just one of them makes you feel like you’ve drunk a couple of stiff cocktails. And that’s fine if you
have
drunk two Martinis in a bar with friends. When you feel drunk like that, twenty-four hours a day, and have to take care of kids and the house and bills….” She drew in long breath, trying to reign in the tirade. Her breath shook.

“You went off them, because the kids are more important,” Patrick said quietly.

“And now I can’t even go home to get away from the bad guys,” Blythe finished. “They’re here, all around us, all around my kids.”

Jake moved to her side. “Mom?” he asked.

She pulled him into a hug and hid her face in his hair. Jake clung to her just as hard.

Patrick went over to the fridge and plucked the pen off the dry-erase message board. “The treatments for PTSD have improved a lot since you left the Army,” he told her. He wrote quickly. “You don’t have to take the drugs, if you manage yourself in other ways and that includes acknowledging the issue is there in the first place. Veteran’s Affairs will help. I think you already know that.”

From this angle, he could see her face. Blythe’s eyes were screwed shut and she looked like she was trying hard not to cry.

“Bottling it up isn’t helping you or Jake,” he added.

She looked at him, startled. Then she let Jake go and wiped quickly at her eyes.

Patrick tapped the board with the pen and put it back in the holder. “That’s my private cell phone number. Don’t lose it, because there’s no way to find it if you do.”

“Why are you giving us that?” Jake asked.

“For whatever reason you need me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Blythe said. Her voice quivered.

“And that’s the attitude that got you into this,” Patrick said quietly.

Her eyes widened.

“You’re so use to battling it alone as a single parent, that you’ve lost the ability to reach out for help when you need it,” he added.

“I don’t need help.”

“You
do
. Everyone needs help, only you have too much pride to admit it. God knows, the world judges single mothers harder than anyone else. Everyone watches for her to slip up, to fail to care for her kids properly. Everyone expects her to fail, so asking for help feels like failure…but it’s not.” He gave her a small smile. “That’s a lesson I learned the hard way. And my failure to ask for help hit headlines all over the world.”

“Huh?” Jake asked, genuinely puzzled.

Patrick nodded toward Blythe. “Ask your mom about it. I know she knows the details very well.”

Blythe pursed her lips and reached for the kettle, like the teacup was the most important thing in the world.

Jake grinned. “Seriously, what sort of help?” he insisted. Already, he was looking and sounding more animated. Just learning that there was actually something wrong and that it was fixable had made that much difference.

Blythe stayed silent, concentrating on pouring water into the cup.

“When your mom goes out hunting at night, I could stay here and make sure you and your sisters are okay. It will help your mom concentrate on her job, if she knows you’re all safe.”

“Cool!” Jake breathed, his eyes shining.

“You?” Blythe asked witheringly. Behind that tone was the expertise of a professional soldier, who had measured and found him wanting.

“You forget what I am,” Patrick said.

“Is it true you guys can lift semis?” Jake asked.

“No, it’s not,” Blythe said quickly.

“Try to hit me,” Patrick told Jake. “As hard and fast as you can.”

The boy didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at Patrick, using his full bodyweight.

“No, Jake!” Blythe cried.

It was too late. Patrick let him get close, then stepped aside. With his perceptions racked up, Jake seemed to move at treacle speed. He stepped around the boy’s hands, grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back and down into the chair in front of the laptop.

Then he held his shoulders until Jake got his balance back. He slowed his senses down to human normal.

Jake gasped, as he realized he was back in the chair.

“I can’t lift a semi,” Patrick said quietly, “but I can throw two hundred pounds a very long way.”

Blythe cleared her throat. “Don’t scare him.” It was softly spoken. She was asking, not directing.

“I’m not scaring him,” Patrick told her.

Jake shook his head quickly. His eyes were dancing. “What else can you do?”

Patrick patted his shoulder and let him go. “One demonstration per customer.” He moved over to the counter and studied Blythe. “Walk me to the door?”

She nodded and moved out from behind the island and headed for the front door. Patrick looked back at Jake. “Take care of yourself, okay? And call me, even if you just want to talk.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“‘kay.” The indifferent affirmative didn’t convey the pleasure in the boy’s face.

Patrick walked to the door that Blythe stood holding open. He looked down at her. “Promise me you’ll get some help for you and Jake, or do I have to come back and strong arm you again?”

Her lips pressed together, then she nodded. “I’ll do anything except take drugs. I have to stay alert.”

“We all do. And I meant it about calling me if you need anything.”

“Why? I mean, why are you doing this?”

Patrick hesitated. “The easy answer, I suppose, is that you’re working with Dominic and I don’t want him put in danger because you’re not functioning properly. That’s just the easy answer.”

“What’s the hard one?” Her dark eyes assessed him frankly. All the animosity had gone from them.

It was his turn to hesitate. He glanced toward Jake, who was watching him from the kitchen table. Could he hear him? Did it matter? He decided it didn’t. “I’ve spent my life studying people to try to figure out what makes them tick. So I knew as soon as I met you that you were broken in some way.”

She was back to biting her lip. “I’m not…broken.”

“You were once and you put yourself together again. You’re still winning that fight, but only just. That’s what I recognized, because I’ve been through that, too.” He gave her a small smile. “As you know.”

The faintest tinge touched her cheeks. The blush was endearing.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t think of me as a monster,” he said and wondered what had made him say that.

“I know who the real monsters are.” Her voice back to that low, husky timbre that he liked.

“Good.” Then he made himself step out the door and head for the pavement. He’d have to text Kimball. He could walk along this quiet street unmolested until Kimball caught up with him. He fished out his phone and heard the door shut behind him.

Why was being thought well of suddenly a big deal?

That was the question that occupied him all the way home.

Blythe called Dominic and cancelled the hunt for that night. She didn’t have the energy for it and she suddenly didn’t want to see him, not until she’d had time to sort out everything that had happened in the ten short minutes Patrick Sauvage had stood in her kitchen.

It was the luckiest break of her life, only she didn’t know that until much later in the night.

The twins were upstairs doing the mysterious things teenage girls did in their bedrooms and Blythe left them alone. She remembered the need for privacy when she had been that age and besides, she did trust them.

She settled down in front of the TV after dinner and pulled up a romantic comedy on Netflix, then patted the sofa next to her. “Come and watch,” she told Jake.

He wrinkled his nose. “A girlie movie?”

“I’m not putting on an action thriller. That’s the last thing either of us needs.”

He swallowed, then nodded. As he threw himself onto the sofa next to her with a heavy sigh, she tucked her arm around him and encouraged him to lean against her. “Relax, the blinds are drawn,” she told him.

He grinned. “Yeah, except
I’ll
still know my mother cuddles me.”

“I’m too old for teddy bears, so you’ll have to do.” She kept her tone light. If she let him think she was doing it for her sake, then he might cooperate.

He did. She could feel his body getting heavier against her side and in slow stages moved him down the sofa until his head was on her knee. Finally, he slept.

She pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and dropped it over him. She let the movie continue to play, not really watching it. Her thoughts were too busy to focus on the story.

She had made sure her phone was on vibrate before she had started the movie, so when it rang, it shuddered its way across the top of the side table until she reached and picked it up.

“Peter…is everything okay?” she asked. Peter Mathur had insisted on heading out tonight with the rest even though she and Dominic would not be there. Peter and the others had learned a lot about hunting Summanus in the last few weeks. She figured a night of hunting on their own would sharpen the skills even more.

Heavy panting sounded and in the background, she could hear screaming.