The Legacy of Buchanan's Crossing (31 page)

While Clint was busy trying to see his mom in this new light, she went on. “One thing you have to understand is that anything powerful enough to bring Cayden back is going to need the very best of you. There’ll be a risk as well, a large one. It’s the way of magic. I believe in you, so I don’t know that I’d stop you if I could. I’m not going to try. I am going to insist, for Cayden’s sake as well as your own, that you eat and rest before you go back there. I’ll not lose my son for want of a decent breakfast and a few hours sleep. Besides, the moon will be new tonight. It has a power of its own.”

God knew he was beat. He wasn’t sure if he was hungry though, which told him how freaked out he was. He’d just agreed to meet his parents at their home when he saw Dean Cumberland limp through the revolving doors.

His mom must have followed his eyes, because her gentle face turned hard. “We’ll be leaving now. I’ve spent all the time today I care to with people I don’t think much of.” She pulled his dad toward a side door and called over her shoulder, “Your breakfast will dry out if it sits in the oven long, and don’t get any blood on that fresh shirt.”

While he was deciding whether to drag Dean out in the parking lot or finish where he’d left off right here, their gazes locked across the lobby. A jolt of realization rocked him. Aileen Buchanan’s bright blue eyes were a perfect match for Dean’s. The resemblance was so striking, he was amazed he hadn’t noticed earlier. It certainly explained Aileen’s sympathy for Dean. He should have put it together from the things Milton had said, but he’d been so distracted by everything else going on.

Dean’s head dropped, but not so fast Clint didn’t notice something else. Dean was scared.

Good, he should be. Clint was standing in front of him before Dean had hobbled four steps into the hospital. And that was as close to Cayden as he was going to get, particularly since Clint couldn’t be around to protect her while he took care of business at the Crossing.

“For such a smart man, you’re sure doing a lot of dangerously stupid shit tonight. Now, unless you want to become a long-term patient at some other hospital—because you’re sure as hell not staying here—you’ll turn right around, put your ragged ass back into your shiny limo, and get as far away from me as you can.”

Up close, Dean’s fear was even more evident. There was pain there, too, and raw guilt. He tilted his fuzzy little head up, eyes full of tears. “I want to see my mother, and Cayden. How is Cayden? And the baby? Oh God, what have I done?” Then he broke down and started bawling.

Jesus. What was he supposed to do now? Clint closed his tired eyes and listened to the sobs for a minute before hauling Dean by the elbow to a bank of chairs and shoving him into one.

“You can’t meet your mother looking like something the cat dragged in.” Which he did. His face was clean and his ribs had obviously been wrapped, but in addition to the serious limp, his mouth was swollen and he was wearing the same suit, minus the torn jacket and half the buttons on his shirt. That someone as meticulous as Dean was wandering around in public as he was said a lot about his state of mind. “Where’s your father? Milt didn’t look so good last time I saw him.”

Clint was thankful he’d asked. Dean blinked and straightened. Concentrating on the question was forcing him to pull his shit together, thank God. When he did speak, Dean’s voice was flat; it had lost all of its smooth. “I left him in the Hartford ER. I won’t be going back. Before I left, one of the doctors told me the preliminary diagnosis was some type of seizure, possibly brought on by an allergic reaction to the cat scratches. There’s no chance of mental recovery, given his rapidly declining physical condition. He’ll spend the time he has left in a full-care facility.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Neither was I.” Dean groped for a hankie, apparently having forgotten he wasn’t wearing a jacket, then scrubbed his eyes with his fists. “It’s my mother and Cayden I’m worried about. Clint, I… It was an instinctive reaction when she stabbed me. I never meant to hurt her. I was trying to save her life. You have to believe me.”

“Yeah, well, that would be a helluva lot easier if you hadn’t hired those thugs to kill her.” So what if he was fishing? It was only fair, since he’d been on the Cumberlands’ hook from the start.

“I-I didn’t want to, even then. My father persuaded me it was necessary.”

Cayden had tried to tell him. He’d thought she was just being dramatic. One more thing to feel shitty about.

“How is she? If she’s hurt, if she loses the baby, I don’t know what I’ll do. She’s my niece, for goodness’ sake. The good side of my blood. If there’s anything, anything at all I can do… I’ll cover all of the expenses, of course. We’ll get specialists, additional care, a private clinic, whatever she needs.”

“Your money can’t fix this.”

Dean’s head dropped in his hands, and Clint was afraid the little man was going to start crying again, and more than a little worried he might join him. “The baby will be fine.”

“Are you sure? How do you know? And Cayden?” Dean’s head had come back up. He was blinking up a storm, a little too hopefully.

Clint wasn’t about to let him off that lightly. “Not so good. Aileen said—”

“She’s awake?” Dean’s freckled face lit up, his fat lips on the verge of cracking, then fell just as fast. “She’s my mother, you know.”

Clint nodded.

“Did you tell her about me?” His eyes started filling again. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? The things I’ve done; how can she not hate me?”

Tempting as it was, making Dean feel bad wasn’t making him feel any better.

“Your mother doesn’t hate you. If anything, she feels sorry for you.”

“So you think she might talk to me?” That hopeful look was back, and Clint couldn’t quite bring himself to smash it.

“I don’t know what to think about anything anymore. But yeah, I guess it would be worth a try. Tomorrow. They wouldn’t let you in there today, even if you weren’t a mess.”

“Tonight I learned my entire life is a lie. It’s strange, but I understood that before my father admitted his part in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if that pin of Cayden’s was magic. Anyway, I don’t know who I am any more. I know who I want to be, though, and who I don’t want to be.” He looked down. His palms gripped his ripped suit pants. “I want to build something I can be proud of. And Clint, I want to build it with you.” Dean’s reddened eyes looked right into his.

The finger wearing the ring tingled. Dean was telling the truth. The poor little bastard had kind of taken the angry wind out of his sails too, but… “You’re not saying all of this so I don’t go to the police with assault and kidnapping charges, are you? If you don’t tear up the contract, I will. And if Cayden wants to press charges when she wakes up, I’ll back her up even if you burn it. As for working for you again…” His tongue tapped his teeth.

Dean patted his bruised mouth. “My lawyers could have the charges dismissed easily enough. Too much of what happened up there would be difficult to explain. But you misunderstood me. I’m not talking about you working
for
me, I’m talking about you working
with
me, a full partnership. Please, don’t give me your answer now. I want you to think it over. I’m sorry. I seem to have trouble maintaining a coherent line of thought. I became distracted when you were relaying Cayden’s condition.”

“She’s unconscious, in a coma, whatever. Aileen said Cayden’s taken her place at the Crossing. Something to do with the Shadows.”

“That’s…” Dean’s face puckered and he tried to suck his fat lower lip into his mouth. “That’s the worst news I’ve heard tonight.”

The crushing feeling in his chest was back. “Why? Aileen told me I could bring her back, so it’s not like—” The shade of white on Dean’s pasty face stopped him cold.

“What do you know that I don’t? This stuff’s new to me, and you seem to know your way around it pretty damn well.” He couldn’t have kept the accusation out of his voice if he’d tried, which he didn’t.

Dean winced. “My father was obsessed with power and possessing the Crossing. He searched the world for information on the arcane practice of magic. Everything he did, he did in pursuit of it. Once he discovered his illness was terminal, he became even more fanatical, convinced it would heal him. Frankly, I wasn’t a true believer until I took in the rain phenomenon at the Crossing Monday night.

“Oh, there were occasional indications that my father’s, sometimes even my, ability to persuade others was slightly more than extraordinary, but I explained them away. I’m not making excuses for my behavior. However much my father may have influenced me, the fact remains none of this would’ve happened without my participation. It’s my responsibility. I should be the one to take the risk. If you don’t want to work together, there’s really nothing left for me other than my mother’s pity. That’s no way to live. I want her to be proud of me.”

“No. This is something I have to do. For what it’s worth, I think your offer will make her proud. And as for that partnership, I’ll talk it over with Cayden.” He couldn’t believe the words had come out of his mouth. Dean’s sincerity and the things Aileen said about Milton must have hit the mark.

“But—”

“Aileen said love was the real magic. It’s a fair guess you’ve received even less than Cayden. She at least had your mother. I’ve been given more than my share, not that I fully appreciated its value until now. I know love, and I know how much I love Cayden.”

Clint stood up and found himself reaching for Dean’s hand. “When you see your mother tomorrow morning, tell her we talked. Tell her I went to bring her granddaughter back.”

Clint was searching for his truck in the parking lot when he spotted Dean limping up to him six rows down.

“Glad I caught you. You left in an Escalade last night, didn’t you? Doubtless the PI’s. I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you keep it until I can get yours replaced with whatever you’d like?” He huffed, holding an arm to his ribs. “The reason I came after you is because you should know something my father said about the Shadow world. He said what happens there is real. As real as what happens here. I should come with you in case you need help.”

“No, thanks. I may not know much, but I know I have to do it alone.”

“Maybe you’re right. Just in case, I mean, if something should happen, I’ll see to it Cayden and the baby are taken care of.”

“Thanks for your vote of confidence. Is there anything else I should know?”

Dean hesitated. “I could be making things more difficult by telling you this.”

“Spill it.”

“Fine. The most important thing, from my understanding, when it comes to magic, is intention. The price for the slightest doubt or reservation would be worse than failure in this case. You must be completely focused. That’s why my father was so successful for so long.”

“Your father’s insane!”

“Oh yes. But then, unless I’m terribly mistaken, you’re quite crazy about Cayden Sinclair.”

Clint considered those words as he watched Dean Cumberland shrink in the Escalade’s rearview mirror and felt the tingle of the copper ring on his finger.

Chapter Twenty-One

C
ayden knew the moment Clint set foot on the hill. Just as she knew the fire she’d built for the Rite of Commitment still burned, the new moon had risen, and Rob Roy had left Nevermore with her to wait for Gran’s return.

She had no idea where her body and her baby were. Other than that last concern, being unencumbered was nice. Without a sense of touch, her remaining senses had blended and expanded, moon-dark was moon song, the evening breeze streaked with wisps of late-summer gold, the Crossing around her pulsed with scents offering pleasure and anticipation—flowers and rain, fresh-baked scones, and Clint.

Clint?
She was having a difficult time remembering much of anything. Yet she knew the scent was his. Protective and arousing, it warmed her. But what was he doing here?

“Cayden?” Clint stepped into the glade, his fresh white shirt nearly glowing in the dark, touching off chords of Evanescence’s “The Other Side” in her non-ears. His rough muttering cut across the music. “Shit, what did I expect? That she’d be sitting here waiting for me, maybe all shimmery, like a ghost? I know damn well she’s in the hospital.”

So that’s where her body was. She wished she had a way to talk to him, to ask him about their baby.

Nevermore took it upon himself to speak to Clint. “Keeper, baby okay?”

“Hey buddy, nice pass last night. Yeah, the baby’s fine. It’s Cayden who has us worried.”

Clint might look rested, but he sounded exhausted. The colors of his words were muddied.

“Clueless bastard, Cayden here.”

“I know. She doesn’t belong here. She belongs with me.”

“Crossing important. Keeper not. Cayden happy.”

“I understand how important the Crossing is. And I know I’ve already done my
job
, but I can’t believe Cayden’s happy about her daughter growing up without a mother.”

What was Clint talking about? She didn’t care for the eddy of dull colors streaming from his words. When she tried to follow their implications, to think about the future, or what he meant by having done his job, it was like tugging uselessly against an unseen anchor. Nevermore didn’t seem to have an answer for him either.

The silence howled like a lonely wolf before Clint broke it. “No offense, buddy, but I really need to talk to Cayden. You said she’s here.”

“In Shadow.”

“So I’ve been told. I can feel her. Can she hear me? Cayden, can you hear me?”

“Hear color, yes. Speak, no. No mouth, clueless—”

“Bastard. Too bad nothing else you said makes sense.” His sigh held a silver thread of humor. “So, I don’t suppose you have any idea how to do this ritual? I know how to get it started. After that, I really am clueless.” He reached into the front pocket of a pair of snug worn jeans and removed a vial. How Cayden knew it contained the Blood of Three, she couldn’t say. She recognized the Celtic knot when he pulled it out of his other front pocket, too.

“Here goes nothing.” He poured the contents over the amulet.

The ritual fire in front of him flared briefly to the sound of a pierced balloon’s hissing exhale. The tension he’d brought to the Crossing eased. A powerful binding had been broken. While the exact nature of the spell eluded her, the evil with which it had been cast fled.

A twinge of longing sparkled like a rainbow when Clint stretched, flexing his marvelous muscular body. “Much better. At least I did that part right.”

Nevermore screeched and flapped his wings. “Clint free. Go home.”

“Can’t, buddy. Not without Cayden. Never without Cayden.”

“Crossing need Warder.”

“It doesn’t need her stuck in this Shadow stuff. That was a mistake. I’ll watch over the damn thing myself if that’s what it takes, till my dying breath.”

“Swear?”

“I swear.”

“Swear naked.”

“What! Is this your idea of a joke?”

Cayden thought it likely, in view of the silvery shades and tints of Nevermore’s scratchy voice. She wouldn’t have argued against it though, even if she could.

“Want Cayden back? Naked now.”

“If I find out this is bullshit, I’m going to pull out all your feathers, one at a time.” Clint’s fingers were already at the buttons of his shirt, though. He hung it carefully on the tip of a low branch. He hadn’t worn an undershirt as he usually did, probably because of the bandages. Bandages? Then he quickly stripped his jeans and boxers from his body, and her longing for it overwhelmed her questions. “Now, about that other thing…” He leaned down and reached into the back pocket of his jeans on the ground. Something glinted in his hand. Ominous movie music echoed among the trees.

“Speak blood oath, Keeper.”

“I, Clint Lewis Bruce MacAllen, swear to protect Cayden and Buchanan’s Crossing with all that I am until my last breath.” A knife flashed and the music reached a terrible crescendo as blood ran from Clint’s wrist into the fire. His words and Nevermore’s reverberated in the rolling chant which followed.

Cayden’s mind shrieked, “Clint, what have you done? You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Neither are you. Speaking of which, where are you? I can hear you, which is a definite improvement, but I still can’t see you.” His voice was strong, calm, reassuring.

His beautiful body lay near the fire, blood seeping from his wrist. How much could it afford to lose? “Of course not, we’re both in the Shadows. I don’t know how much time you have. You’d better get back to your body before it’s too late.”

“No problem, just tell me how to bring you back with me.”

Go back? “Why? It’s nice here.”

“Because I love you, that’s why. It doesn’t matter how nice it is here. You have to come back and marry me.”

“But why?”

“Because my daughter is not going to grow up without her mother.”

Her daughter’s future. The concept tugged hard, and something loosened enough for her to glimpse it. “I don’t want you marrying me out of some misguided sense of honor. It’s bad enough you didn’t have a choice with regard to fathering her. You can find her another mother.”

“Not going to happen. You’re it. No other woman comes close.”

“What about that woman on the planning commission? You looked pretty close to her the other night.”

“What woman? Oh yeah, her. Funny, it seems so long ago. I can’t even remember what she looks like. The only thing clear about that night was you, and feeling like an asshole.”

Even though she remembered, everything outside of the Crossing seemed far away and unimportant.

“Cayden, are you still here?”

“Of course, I’ll always be here. It’s peaceful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s real nice. But you’re not staying. Listen, damn it. I love you, even if you don’t love me, even if you only used me to get pregnant. It doesn’t matter. It’s not as though you had much choice either. If one of us has to stay here, it’s going to be me.”

“I love you, too. It’s just difficult to consider the future, or remember much about the past.”

“Other than seeing me with another woman, that you remember.”

“It hurt.” Like a dull knife cutting out her heart.

“I know. I remember the look on your face as clear as if you were standing here right now. I’m so sorry.” Pale pink shimmered in the silence. Then he said, “Wait, you said you love me. Can you remember making love to me, here? Or at your place?”

Images flashed by, each crystal clear. “Yes, it’s just as you said. Remembering makes me want—” she saw that incredible body laying unmoving by the fire, and alarm pierced her lassitude “—Clint, you’re still bleeding!”

He went on as though he hadn’t heard her. “I think I understand. A lot of stuff is getting fuzzy for me, too, except things connected to strong feelings. It’s either being in this Shadow place or being away from our bodies. Whichever, it’s already beginning to affect me. You’ve been here, away from yours, longer. I have to get you out of here before we’re both too far gone.”

The life’s blood of the man she loved was oozing into the earth of the Crossing. What had tugged was now tearing. “Please, you’ve got to go back. Now.”

“Even if I knew how, I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“I don’t want to leave. There’s pain out there.”

“I know, honey. But there’s pleasure, too. That’s life. Being here, in this place, outside of our bodies, isn’t really living.”

“So you do want to live.” It seemed an important point to make.

“All I know is that I want to touch you, everywhere. I want to kiss your hot little mouth. I want to taste you all over. Your body has a special flavor when you want me bad. God, this whole place smells like you: green, and rain, and earth. It’s driving me crazy. I need you so much. It’s not enough for me to feel the emotion; I need to make it real. If I can’t do that, it doesn’t matter if my body dies or not.”

He wasn’t listening. “You
can’t
die.”

“It wouldn’t be living without you, here or there.” His tone of resignation widened the tear in her protective blanket. He continued in a tired voice, “I wish our daughter wouldn’t have to be raised by your parents, though.”

“What do you mean?” No longer a mere tear, Cayden could almost hear the last of the comforting daze ripping away.

“They don’t think my parents or I are good enough. They want custody. Without me around, my folks wouldn’t have a chance.”

And that was it, the last shred of contentment was gone. Memories of growing up in the house in Wellesley superimposed over her daughter’s future was too much. Sheets of red alarm rained down. “No, no, no. We have to go back, both of us.”

“That’s nice. Those last few words have the prettiest colors.”

“Oh no you don’t. Forget the visual perks. We’re not staying.”

“Does this mean you still want me?”

She strained to ignore the little bells that tinkled with the grin in his voice and focused on the worrisome thought that he sounded drunk. The Crossing was affecting him more strongly and quickly. Was it because he was dying?

His body still lay by the fire, that handsome face with its full lips and strong jaw framed by hair silky soft to touch, the broad shoulders and strong arms that had carried her up to her bed, the tight apple-round cheeks of his butt begging to be grasped and bitten. She remembered his kindness and patience, considered the courage and commitment he’d shown by offering his life for her.

“Oh yes, Clint, I want you. Body and soul.” The words fell white hot out of her mouth into a rushing wind that lashed the trees around the Crossing. Her love and desire flowed through her into Clint’s prone body. It rolled onto its back and an iridescent rainbow poured into it. Clint sat up, coughing and sputtering, gripping his arm above the slash on his wrist.

“Cayden?” The whirling wind whipped her name around and around. “You better get your sweet ass back here with me, right now.”

Laughter bubbled up inside her, seeking an outlet, some way to manifest itself physically. The wind began roaring while the glittering fire fell silent. The soul behind Clint’s eyes called out to her, and she tumbled into their swirling gray-green sea to join him.

What followed was neither light nor dark, without color or sound. She might have been rising up or falling down, for a minute or an eternity, before she collided with something firm and warm.

“I’ve got you.” Deep and comforting, Clint’s voice pulled her more tightly into her body. She found comfort in the strength of his grip through the thin material of…a hospital gown?

But the forearm crushing her close was bandaged and dripping blood. “Yes, thank you. Now let me have a look at your wrist.” She tried to keep her voice as calm as his was. It came out rusty and worried.

When her words had no effect, she tried to wiggle herself loose. Her body hummed with awareness. The bare skin of her bottom was in direct contact with lightly-haired, well-muscled thighs. The tickle of an unshaved nuzzle against her throat sent shivers through her body.

“Aw, Cayden. You feel so good. I’m never letting you go again.” Soft lips and the dart of a hot tongue on her throat, the roughened tips of callused fingers stumbling over ties, then smoothing low on her bare back evoked another, more powerful, round of shivers, and the beginnings of an ache.

An ache there was no time for. “We need to stop—”

“No, we need to keep…” His voice was muffled against the skin above her breasts.

Cayden fought to fit the words between panted breaths. “—your bleeding.” What was wrong with her? Clint aroused her as no man ever had, but this hunger bordered on frenzy.

“Love me, Cayden. Here. Now.” Clint fell back and pulled her to sit on top of him, drawing the gown off her in the process. Those rough fingertips rasped over her nipples when he palmed her breasts, coaxing the air to fill her lungs.

The better part of one of her generous thighs was pinning a white wrapping at his waist. “Your burns. I’m hurting you.”

He groaned and she tried to roll away. His hand gripped her wrist and pulled it gently, inexorably, behind her. “I’m burning all right,” he murmured in her ear, “feel that?”

She did, and he was. A wave of heat rolled over her, making her damp with sweat and desire, and an overwhelming need to soothe. She slid carefully down and knelt between his legs so she could get a better look at his wrist. Only that wasn’t what drew her eyes like a great big hard-as-iron magnet.

Clint’s hips jerked as if her stare actually touched him. “Please, oh God, please, Cayden.”

She licked her lips and swallowed to keep from drooling. Her brain was screaming something about blood loss, while her body whispered
just a taste
. It took tremendous effort to wrench her gaze away for even a flickering glance at the knife wound, which didn’t appear all that life-threatening from this angle. Before she realized it, her tongue was questing, then her mouth and throat were working steadily to keep what they’d found.

His breath hissed. His hands flexed rhythmically in her hair. She fell in with the beat, hummed along with the tune thrumming in the air, the earth, her body. Until it was all there was, all she was.

After a while Clint muttered, “More, damn it. I want it all.” Long fingers gripped her butt hard, dragging her back up across unyielding muscles. He crushed her lips onto his with a hand at the back of her head, while his other hand separated her thighs with slow coaxing pleasure so intense she started shaking and couldn’t stop. When she was sure she’d die of it, both large hands moved to her hips, lifting her onto him. His teeth nipped her lip, and his tongue thrust into her gasp at the same moment he slid fully home.

His powerful forearms flexed as he moved her up and down in a new, slower rhythm. Any thought she might have had regarding wounds was lost while the earth rose and stars fell. Ever-mounting waves of need crested in sharp-edged ecstasy, rolled in troughs of gentle ease, only to rise and swell again, ever higher, ever deeper, until she no longer knew if she was awake or dreaming.

Cayden yawned. Early morning light trickled through the leaves. Birds were singing long, beautiful melodies. She could feel the Crossing’s contentment, as well as her own.

Most of her was warm, lots of her was sore, all of her was exhausted. She was lying on her side, her back snuggled against Clint’s front, her head resting on the firm pillow of a large relaxed bicep in the crook of his bent arm. His other arm sheltered her shoulder, one palm resting low on her belly. Considering they were both lying naked on the ground, it shouldn’t have felt so comfortable, or so comforting.

She turned the hand to examine the wound on his left wrist. Only a thin white line, so white it seemed to glow in the sparse light, remained. Twisting under his arm, she searched for the bandages protecting his burns and found only smooth white skin.

“You keep squirming like that, luscious little witch, you’re going to wake the dragon.” His deep drowsy voice rumbled through her pleasantly. He pulled her tighter against him and she felt the evidence of said waking dragon. Certainly appealing in theory, but…