Dark Angel's Ward (15 page)

"Truly?"

"Oh yeah. My personal favorite was the one in the showerhead."

"But why would they do such at thing?"

"I dunno." My reply came automatically, but then I paused a moment to think about it. I'd never really considered it at the time. I'd just assumed simple possessiveness--the old "you belong to us!" mindset. But what if there
had
been another reason? And what the hell could it possibly be? I wasn't that interesting.

"Is something wrong?" Zeph touched my shoulder, and I realized I'd stopped in my tracks on the staircase.

"Nope. I just had a sudden onset of paranoia." I reached up absently to lay my hand over his as my mind reeled with possibilities and potential problems. "Shit," I muttered. "I need to think. Be a peach, would you, and get me some more water?"

He stared at me wide-eyed, as if I'd asked him something momentous. His grip on my shoulder tightened. "Let me help you upstairs first."

"I don't think I'm going to fall down the stairs, Zeph."

"Perhaps not," he said as he herded me forward, "but it would be inconvenient if you did."

I glanced back at him. "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"I believe so."

I snorted a laugh for his effort, following his urging to the small bedroom he'd claimed for himself. As he headed back out the door, I called, "Find me a pen and paper, too, please?"

"I shall try."

I settled in on the bed, leaning back against the pillows. On the surface, the room gave every appearance of its former emptiness. The bed had been made up again, though far more precisely than I had ever done it. Zeph's scent lingered on the pillows and coverlet--a clean, faintly sweet smell that would have made a great perfume.
Eau de Dark Angel.

I laughed at my ridiculous thought and tried to think about the more serious matters at hand, but I couldn't focus while sitting in this room that had become so permeated with his presence in so short a time. It was amazing. In two days he'd been able to breathe life into the space in a way I hadn't managed in two years.

Too bad I'd probably never set foot in this house again after I left it tonight. Surely the Society wouldn't take too kindly to my aiding and abetting Zeph's escape from their clutches. Despite my name on the deed, I had no doubt they'd find a way to take back the house and everything else they'd ever given me. Hell, depending on how vengeful they decided to be, it might even prove dangerous to speak to the twins ever again.

The enormity of the future before me struck home in that moment. My heart began to pound and my lungs to tighten as I thought about it. God, I'd never be able to look back. The life I'd built with my own two hands was crumbling around me. The only things that had ever truly been mine...I was about to throw them all away.

And what would I do next? See Zeph off to an uncertain fate and start over yet again? Or commit myself to a life with him, a life of secrecy and seclusion, of running and hiding whenever the world seemed threatening? Each possibility seemed just as terrifying as the other.

Especially since I had no guarantees he wouldn't go back to being his old heartless self at any moment. Compassion and--dare I even think it?--love had brought us to this point, this moment together. Sentiments that, for the first time, he appeared to genuinely feel and return. But what would happen a month, or a year from now? I shuddered as I recalled countless mornings like this in the past, waking up drained and alone, with barely enough strength to drag myself out of bed and tend my wounds.

I couldn't go back to that life. I wouldn't.

Then don't,
a small voice whispered from the back of my mind.
He said he
wanted
to go off and die, so let him. Drive him away and wash your hands of it all. Now or later--what difference does it make?

"Jandra? What's happening?" Zeph appeared in the doorway, wild-eyed, a gallon jug of water slipping from his grasp to thud on the carpet. His other hand clutched at his chest, telling me he, too, felt the effects of my panic attack.

Whoever came up with the phrase "misery loves company" apparently never tried his hand at doubles hyperventilation. It isn't any more fun with a partner. I felt worse, actually, since now I was racked with guilt that he suffered too, without really understanding why. I sucked in a shallow breath to cough out the words, "I'm afraid."

He came to me, crossing the room in three long strides. I fell into his embrace as he knelt on the bed beside me. The harsh rhythm of our breathing jarred our bodies together as we gasped for air that never seemed to satisfy. "How do you live with this feeling?" Zeph rasped.

Because dying isn't as easy as it sounds.
I didn't bother speaking those words out loud. I just clung to him, and as he fell silent, I began to hear voices--the frenetic susurrus of human thoughts, prayers, and dreams that haunted his mind almost constantly.

"What the hell?" I'd never been able to hear them before except while I drew energy from him.

"You're listening." His reply came out so strained that I couldn't tell if he'd meant it as a question or a statement.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He just shook his head.
How freaking helpful.
I chalked it up to a weird side effect of our ever-growing bond. Fortunately, it didn't last too long. The noise faded away as my pulse began to return to normal.

Zeph sat back shortly afterward, brows drawing together. "What happened, Jandra?" He dabbed at my cheekbone with his thumb, his eyes full of bewildered pity.

I looked into his deep, dark eyes, and I knew what I had to do. I'd fallen in love with those eyes years ago, when they'd reflected nothing but my own face. Seeing them now filled with sympathy and yearning, I knew I couldn't turn my back on him again. It had been hard enough to do it the first time. Back then I'd had every reason to, and the stakes hadn't been nearly this high.

So maybe someday he would go back to the way he'd been before. We'd cross that bridge when and if we came to it. I couldn't leave him, nor could I let him die. Whether I liked it or not, I'd always be the yin to his yang. And if I was willing to sacrifice my heart for him, how could I worry about a stupid house?

"Jandra?"

"Nothing," I whispered, blinking away the last of my tears. "It was nothing."

He cocked his head in question, but I couldn't say any more. There just isn't a nice way to tell somebody you'd been thinking about abandoning him to his doom. I dropped my head to his shoulder, hiding my face against his neck. "Did you get my water?"

"Yes." I felt his head turn toward the doorway, but he made no move to get up and retrieve the jug. "Did you fear I wouldn't return?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah." I snorted, choking on laughter and tears. "Something like that."

"I would never leave your side, Jandra. Not willingly."

Great, rub in the guilt, why don't you?
Aloud, I said, "Feeling better now?"

"Yes, a bit." He frowned, drawing a deep breath through his nose as if to verify his lungs were working properly again. "I've never experienced anything like that before. It was horrible."

"Yeah, that's fear for you."

"But what could have frightened you so badly?" he persisted, gripping my hands in his.

I almost brushed him off again, but really, he deserved an honest answer. I gave him the only one I could come up with. "Myself."

"Yourself?"

I nodded. "Sometimes there's nothing scarier."

I could see he still didn't grasp my meaning. He didn't press it any further, though. He stood up and pulled a notepad and a pen and from his pocket. I smiled, surprised.

"You remembered. Thanks." I took them and began to jot down a list of my pessimistic musings: money, vehicle, pursuit, the twins.

"Here." The mattress bounced as he set the jug of water beside me. I looked up, waiting for him to hand me a cup. When he didn't, I just popped off the cap and drank directly from the bottle.

"Is something the matter?"

"Nope." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, grimacing as my stomach clenched at the sudden input.

He nodded once and began to pace, lost in his thoughts. I went back to my own. My jottings slowly filled the small page, the "cons" list growing longer and longer while the "pros" remained pathetically short. I took out my frustration on the end of the pen. When I'd finally bitten right through the plastic barrel, I tossed it down and announced, "I have reached a conclusion. This sucks."

"Indeed it does." His pacing didn't slow or waver.

I glanced down at my list. "We can't contact Sara or Cara again. It might put them in danger."

His sadness crashed over me like a breaking wave, but he nodded soberly. "I understand."

I raised a questioning eyebrow at the reaction. It still seemed odd to me that he'd become so attached to the girls in so short an acquaintance. Maybe I still couldn't quite grasp the concept of Zeph having feelings of his own. I was accustomed to seeing him respond to me, as I'd supplied him with his only means of emotional expression. But I'd never seen him long for the company of someone else before. Of course, he wasn't used to the kind of total acceptance the twins had shown him. Had that mattered to him, even in the past? Maybe so. Even sociopaths crave validation of some sort.

"What is it?" Zeph asked, and I realized I'd been staring at him.

"I'm sorry," I replied. "I'm glad you care about the girls so much, but it's best for them if we keep them out of this. Things could get ugly from here on out."

"Surely they will." A visible shudder went through him.

"Do you know something I don't?" I asked, wary.

He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as if for warmth against a sudden chill. "If I do know, I'm not aware of it."

"You know what's scary? That answer made perfect sense to me."

Sixteen

By four o'clock we'd loaded a small overnight bag into the trunk of my car and were backing down the driveway, without much more of a plan than we'd had that morning. Zeph sat behind the wheel again. I'd staggered enough times while getting ready to know I still suffered the ill effects of blood loss. I felt a bit better by now--I'd spent the past hour napping--but I still wasn't in any shape to operate a motor vehicle.

I'd argued with him anyway. It would look unusual for him to be in the driver's seat, but it couldn't be helped. I turned to stare out the rear window, blinking away the dark spots hovering at the corners of my vision. "Damn it."

"What is it?" Zeph asked, glancing at me.

"Nothing. That's the problem." There were no other cars moving down the quiet street. No super obvious surveillance van, no sexy James Bond sports car. No sign of pursuit at all. It unnerved me even more to worry about enemies lurking in the shadows unseen, so confident in their control of the situation that they didn't even need to tail us.

"Calm yourself, Jandra."

"Can't afford to." I raked a hand through my hair. "We have to assume someone's watching us. That's why we have to act as if we're following Briggs's orders to the letter. Which will only work because we'll need the same things for the trip we're actually taking."

"So, what would I need to make ready for a trip?"

"You really don't know, do you?" I shook my head. "Never mind, don't answer that. Well, you'll need more clothes. I assume you don't have anything else with you, or I'd have seen it by now."

"I packed the shirt the twins gave me."

"Try the shirt
I
gave you, pally. Well, I guess it's technically stolen at the moment. I forgot to pay for it the other day. And no--" I scowled at his hopeful expression, shattering it to pieces in an instant-- "we cannot stop by the shop and 'accidentally' bump into your new best friends. Weston Mall, off limits." I sighed. "In fact, maybe the shopping trip had better wait until after we get out of town. We'd have to find the mother of all big-and-tall stores for you, anyway."

"Very well. What else?"

I chewed a fingernail, considering. "The main thing we need is money. And plenty of it."

Zeph frowned. "Money has never been an object, Jandra."

"I'm not talking about your freaking dragon hoard, Methuselah. The Society has their fingers all over that. What we need is need cold, hard cash. Anything else can be traced. No checks, no credit cards, no bank accounts.... Well, wait." I paused, considering. "I do have my savings from what I've earned at Dissonance. I'm sure they know about it, but the account is in my name. They can't possibly have access to it. I'll just cash it out and close the account." I gave him directions to my bank branch.

"This won't look suspicious?" he asked as he merged into the turning lane at my behest.

"Well, it'll tip them off once they start looking for us, but that shouldn't be until after we don't show at the airport. It's a risk we'll have to take."

He still looked uneasy, but said nothing more. I shrugged. "It's not like we're going to have that much of a head start, anyway. The only real advantage we'll have is the element of surprise."

He nodded his acceptance. "While we're on the subject of surprises...why didn't you tell Briggs about me?"

"Huh? I did. Well, I told some Agent Something-or-Other about you, and
he
told Briggs. As for the man himself, I wouldn't tell him where to find water if he was on fire."

"No. I meant, you haven't told them how I've changed, have you?"

"Oh, that. No, I haven't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." I thought about that for a moment. "I guess--back when I still thought they were planning to take care of you, instead of murder you--I guess I assumed they'd be the ones to figure out what was up and what to do about it."

"I believe they already have." One corner of his mouth turned down. "You just don't happen to agree with their method of choice."

"Well, death
does
cure everything," I said flippantly. Zeph just sighed and bowed his head over the steering wheel as he braked for a red light. I frowned. "Um, okay, I
was kidding. Weren't you?"