Authors: Jaime Reed
Burning Emerald (8 page)
Opening Caleb's mouth, I lowered my head. His lips were cold and lacked the sweetness that served as the norm. After long moments of stillness, a pulling sensation dragged at my insides. Lilith twitched and prickled in both pain and frenzy. I only had my imagination to help me understand the internal battle taking place. One injured animal nursed the other, licking the wounds and offering food. Meanwhile, no trace of Caleb was present, no warm coat of joy, no scent of sweets, no memories.
“Caleb,” I whispered against his lips as hot tears burned my cheeks. My body shook as I drew deeper into the kiss, giving all of myself to him, praying that my strength was enough. But all I got was dead air and further anguish.
“That's enough, Sam. You're still weak. You don't want to overdo it,” Haden whispered from some great distance. His hands latched on to my arms when I didn't respond. Opening my eyes, I strained to remember where I was. I stared at Caleb, motionless and lifeless as when I'd last seen him.
“He needs more,” I insisted.
“Not right now. You need to feed, rebuild your strength, then try again. He'll kill you if he takes too much now.” Haden pulled me to his chest and squeezed me tight until I stopped struggling. “Go on back to bed. You can try again in the morning.”
His chest rose and fell in angry tremors in an effort to keep it together. More times than necessary, Caleb's brothers had seen death, that uninvited guest who had taken permanent residence in their lives.
“You know I can't leave him,” I mumbled against his shirt.
“I know. I figured I'd toss the idea out there anyway.” He kissed the top of my head as an orderly walked into the room and clicked on the light.
“Miss, you can't be in here. Your mother is looking for you. Come back to your room,” he ordered.
Pulling away, Haden lifted my chin to meet his gaze. Dingy black hair fell around his face in tangled locks. Fading white scars creased his leathery face. His nose hung slightly bent and set off center, evidence of rough living and a short temper. But seeing those violet peepers made my stomach jerk. I had almost forgotten how all the Ross boys looked alike. Caleb and his brothers shared that vagabond appearance, as if they had simply rolled out of bed, looked in the mirror, and given up. Then again, they all had an incubi spirits living in their bodies, and having women dogging their every step left no real reason to try.
Six and a half feet of bulk made Haden the most intimidating of the four. He looked like he should be in Special Ops combing the jungle, but his cinnamon roll cologne killed all element of badass.
After a few blinks, the glow in his eyes faded away, retreating behind the cornea. “Are you hungry?”
Knowing what he meant, I said, “Starving.”
Wearing a wicked grin, Haden turned to the male nurse. “Sir, she's a bit weak. Could you be so kind as to take her back to her room?” His voice was as low and persuasive as any villain.
“Sure.” The orderly stepped closer, then froze as our eyes met. He was a husky guy with loose-fitting scrubs. His athletic build and baby face screamed med student, but I had to be careful. My allure affected men of all ages, and it would be a shame if he was arrested tonight for improper conduct.
Meeting him halfway, I brushed my hand over his face. Almost instantly, he gave in to the draw, leaning closer to capture my mouth. I stopped and lightly danced my lips against his, grazing his cheek, his neck, then returned to the source, drinking in my fill on much-needed nourishment. My finger stopped at his pulse, waiting for that indicative skip in his heartbeat. As soon as I felt it, I pulled away.
He stared back at me with hooded eyes, silently begging for more, offering anything for another turn.
“Leave me here and tell my mother I'm fine,” I said. “Insist that I stay. My presence calms Caleb. I'll return in the morning.”
He nodded keenly, then set off to do my bidding.
Haden stood by the door with an appreciative smile, looking like Caleb's alter ego. “A true Cambion at work. Nadine would be proud.”
“Thanks.” I crawled on the bed and curled next to Caleb, mindful of the wires and cords.
Haden left the room for a moment, no doubt to keep Mom from dragging me back to my room. I needed this time with Caleb, a period of regeneration and peace. At some point, I fell asleep whispering words of encouragement and love, words that I'd never had the nerve to say aloud, words for his ears only.
8
I
remained hospitalized for the next few days, still unable to imbibe solid food.
remained hospitalized for the next few days, still unable to imbibe solid food.
The doctors ran more tests and gave me the royal treatment, perhaps in fear from the last time the Marshall women darkened their halls. Maybe the extra attention had something to do with me snacking on every man on staff, including the custodians. Whatever the deal was, I didn't complain.
Mom stood guard as usual, fending off police and the obstinate private detective, David Ruiz. He seemed adamant about interviewing me, and not even Mom's threat of disembowelment could deter him.
Despite his relaxed, Brooklyn-bred tone, Ruiz sported an air of authority that had me tripping over my own words. His shiny black curls, Colgate smile, and designer suit couldn't diminish the “don't eff with me” vibe that clung to his skin like cologne. For that reason, Lilith decided to sit this one out. He seemed immune to my draw anyway, which was a phenomenon within itself. He didn't seem like a forty-year-old virgin, not the way he was eyeballing Mom all through his visit.
Having knowledge of our connection, he asked about Caleb's father. My answers remained vague, but he kept drilling that rig until he struck oil. The detective and I shared one belief: There was a cause and effect to everything, and there was no such thing as coincidences. Maybe it was part of his strategy, but he seemed to know more than what he let on. Since neither one of us were going to show our cards, we wasted a good part of an hour calling each other's bluff.
“You really got the staff around here spooked. Even the police in this town freeze up at the mention of your name. Any particular reason?” Ruiz asked.
“My grandpa is a very influential man and he enjoys scaring people, including us. Not a good idea to step on his toes.”
He gave a shrewd nod. “So I hear. Must be comforting having so many powerful people backing you. You can get away with just about anything.”
“Mr. Ruiz, just out of curiosity, why are you called the Cuban Necktie?” I asked, remembering what Caleb had told me at the party.
With a wry grin, he answered, “Because I'm Cuban and I have the reputation of being cutthroat when I need to be.” He left it at that, some clever anecdote everyone in the room got but me.
I caught Mom giving him the eye during the interview, adding an extra flip of her hair whenever she interrupted him. Her efforts brought a smile to his stern features, and his line of questioning took a detour into her marital status.
I guessed stubborn people attract each other. If I hadn't been strapped to the bed by IVs, I would've given them some privacy. After twenty minutes of the sickest flirting contest I'd ever witnessed, the detective left defeated with promises of a rematch.
And the Awkward Train just kept on rolling.
Dad swung by to check on me, which led to another Caleb-bashing session. He figured Caleb's vegetable state was a fitting punishment for endangering his baby girl yet again.
To make matters worse, he'd brought his shrew of a wife, Rhonda, who looked as though she'd been dragged there by knifepoint. She made a show of concern, but the disdain wafting off her body was enough to choke a horse. The woman couldn't stand me, but her contempt was exacerbated by her belief that I harbored bad juju, which made her visit blissfully brief.
Dad brought the twins with him as well, dishing out a mouth-watering treat for Lilith. She loved the pure, concentrated energy children produced, which my siblings owned in abundance. I watched the six-year-olds nap in one of their brief breaks from anarchy. Kyle curled up in the chair in the corner, snoring with his mouth open. Kenya leaned on her brother, wearing a Princess Tiana costume that she refused to take off, a stubbornness I would've never gotten away with growing up. Dad was getting soft with his old age.
I didn't get to see my brother and sister as often as I should. Much like this meeting, they mysteriously fell asleep after the first hug. This strange occurrence only Lilith and I could explain, and our silence added another brick to the growing wall between Dad and me. Though Lilith recognized Dad's presence, with the right amount of concentration I could use her “powers of persuasion” to cool his temper. It had gotten me out of binds before; why fix what isn't broken?
“I think it's a bit strange that so many âaccidents' are happening in Williamsburg.” Dad strolled in front of my bed and continued his cross-examination. “First one of your classmates, then your mother, your coworker, and now this. A lot of odd events this past summer, and they all occurred right around the same time you started seeing that boy.”
Here we go. Dad had some serious Angus beef with my boyfriend, and he needed to get over it. Gathering what little strength I had, I sat up straight. “Daddy, don't blame Caleb. We're all victims in this.”
He swept a meaty hand across his bald head. “All I know is that something happened to you, something strange. Not just your eye colorâwhich the doctors still can't explain, by the wayâbut your whole demeanor. You're like a different person.” He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a folded pamphlet. “Samara, there's a psychologist in Alexandria who specializes in abnormal cases of post-traumatic stress,” he began, waiting for my reaction.
I didn't say a word, but stared at the worn brochure in his hand and wondered how long he'd been holding on to it.
“I know you think you're fine, but it's clear that you're not. When I met your friend Nadine, the first thing I noticed about her were her eyes. And you have the exact same pair. The mind is a powerful thing, baby girl, and I believe that your change is a physical sign of your grief. Now this specialist handles all sorts of anomalies: women who miscarry but still have all the effects of pregnancy, twins who share physical symptoms of their siblings, people who claim to have stigmata, and so on. Now these sessions are completely confidential and ... just think about it, okay?”
“What if I can't be fixed, Dad? Are you gonna have me committed like Grandpa tried to do? I don't want any more tests, blood work, or pills thrown at me. I just want to be normal. So please, just let me.”
Fear and disappointment gripped his face for a moment. I wasn't sure what had caused that look, my secrecy or my quantum leap into adulthood, but he seemed to think I was a stranger.
He glanced back and forth between me and his other two children as if comparing our differences, not in complexion, but age. The twins had just started first grade and I was about to graduate, a lengthy gap that Dad had trouble measuring. He'd never looked as resigned as he did in that instant, demoted from his proud station as protector and provider.
I reached out and pulled him closer. His big body covered what little room was available on the bed. His hands dwarfed mine as dark brown fingers enclosed them. He had a way of making me feel small and delicate by proximity alone.
“I'm the same ol' Sam, Daddy. It's just a newer version of meâSamara 2.0. I'm seeing the big world out there, and I like what I see for the most part. I'm still your baby girl. No matter what, that fact won't change.”
“I know.” He leaned in, planted a warm kiss on my forehead, and in a slick move that almost made me proud, slipped the brochure under my blanket.
An hour later, Mia dropped off my classwork with an extra helping of tension that was bigger than her handbag.
“So you gonna tell me what the hell is going on, or do I log this in the âthings Sam won't talk about' shelf?” she began. “I've seen some weird things in my life, but Halloween night was off the chain.”
“There's nothing to talk about. Had some bad reaction to some food,” I explained with a mouth full of lime Jell-O.
She didn't buy it for a second. “I've taken three years of biology and not once have I ever read about foreign bacteria that make your face start glowing like a radioactive mutant. If so, why was no one else at the party affected but you and Caleb? Come on, Sam. It's
me
. Talk to me,” she pleaded.
me
. Talk to me,” she pleaded.
Though each syllable cut at my insides, the lies rolled off my tongue like Polish. This skill would come in handy once I started law school, so it was good to start early. Her parting glare as she left the room told me I needed more practice.
For the rest of the day, I replayed Halloween night over and over in my head, wondering what Caleb had eaten that could have been tampered with. I remembered the bottles of water Courtney had been chucking at Caleb, but could oil mix with water without him noticing? At my request, Mom rechecked my clothes and found nothing. We were about to give up when I recalled the hot cocoa I'd drank that night. I'd set down my mug at the bar while chasing after some stranger around the party. Anyone could have gotten a hold of it.
I cupped my head in my hands and cried. For years, Mom had warned me of situations like that, to never leave my drink unattended. The one time my guard dropped, I became the newest cautionary tale. But Caleb had gotten caught in the cross fire, more collateral damage, another life in danger because of me.
Guilt and damnation rode me hard that night, granting only minutes of sleep before another round of abuse. But I swore I would find out who'd done this, even if it killed me.
Â
The middle child of the Ross dynasty signed the visitors' guestbook the next morning. Michael Ross was the emaciated version of Caleb with a long, brown braid that reached his waist. I would never get used to these body doubles running around. It conflicted with the “Holding It Together” campaign I had going. But each had their distinct style and endearing quirks.
Though I was unsure of his preferred poison, Michael carried a perpetually drunken sway and could never sit in one spot for very long. He also had his paranoid moments, looking over his shoulder and answering questions only he could hear. Oh yeah, there were some screws loose, but he was always aware of the things around him.
Of the three times I'd been in Michael's company, I'd never seen him stone sober, just in fluctuating degrees of blitzed. Today was no different.
“It keeps the voices quiet,” he'd told me once after his dad's funeral. “I can hear the lives I take, and not all of them are pleasant. It becomes harder to sort out which memories are mine.”
Everyone coped differently with the Cambion lifestyle, I guess. None of the brothers confronted him about his self-medication and I thought I'd better do the same.
On sight, this walking skeleton drew me in for a hug that almost hurt. I could feel his ribs under his baggy trench coat, and his red-rimmed eyes avoided mine. He never looked a female in the eye unless he fed, so I didn't take offense.
Once the pleasantries were over, he told me that Brodie was still missing in action, and I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about that fact.
“Do the police have any leads on a suspect?” Michael asked.
Haden looked puzzled. “Nothing so far, but I don't expect the police to come up with anything useful. This wasn't an accident. Someone was trying to get to Sam and Caleb, and if it was a Cambion, then he won't stop until he finishes the job.”
Michael staggered around the room, pulling out drawers and opening cabinets. “We'll have to stay here in shifts. I'll take the morning and you take evenings.”
My head volleyed between the brothers. “You think he might come back?”
“We're not leaving anything to chance.” Michael smiled, stuffing alcohol wipes and rubber gloves in his coat pocket. He was so weird. “Let us worry about this. You gather your strength. Caleb needs you more than ever.”
With Michael and Haden's help, I snuck into Caleb's room for the next couple of nights and tried to nurse him back to health. I had to up my food intake threefold in order to sustain us both. Holding Caleb's head in my arms, I would offer all life force as a sacrifice. I entered the room full as a bloated tick only to be carried back to my room depleted. These night visits turned me into a lifeless zombie, too weak to stand on my own, which lengthened my stay at the hospital. On the upside, I lost ten pounds within a span of three days.
No matter how often I fed, how much energy I donated, it wasn't enough. Capone was getting stronger, but he needed more than what I could give. I would offer every last drop I had to keep Caleb alive. Haden and Michael voiced their concerns, but no other alternative presented itself. I was no good to Caleb weak, but that utility went both ways.
Hour by hour, Caleb resembled a soulless, capsized vessel, and I was slowly going down with the ship. Though still new to the world of dating, the thought of being without my Cake Boy dropped me into a void with no bottom. All I had was hope. And time.
Â
On the fifth day, the doctors sent me home with a clean bill of health. They might as well have left me there because I camped out in Caleb's room. Mom's absurd demand that I return to school at some point kept me from building a fort out of blankets.
My first night home was one of melancholy and isolation. Mom kept her distance, but her shadow passed under my door every few hours. She told me that Dougie had dropped off a card. Thank goodness Mom was there to intercept my messages; I wasn't up for company. Questions abounded, and I could barely eat, let alone wrap my lips around a decent explanation. Things would only get worse in the morning when I returned to school.
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