Chapter Twenty-eight
When Will stumbled through the metal door of the silo and onto the metal walkway of his safe house he almost fell down the stairs leading to the main floor. But he managed to right himself enough to take the steps more or less one at a time and didn’t fall until he hit the bottom. There, he gathered himself, closed his eyes, and pushed himself back onto his long legs.
His surroundings were a blur of things he didn’t care about, made that way by the paint thinner of pain. He pushed through a second metal door of the silo to its first room, one that was once a room where soldiers had gathered but was now a gym. And there he found a soldier of a different kind waiting for him. Liam Slate sat alone on the edge of one of the padded weight benches, elbows on his knees, watching but silent.
Liam held a fully refilled syringe in one hand. And from this, Will gathered Liam had been expecting his cousin in this state.
“You’re an idiot,” said Liam softly. Calmly. He didn’t move from where he was.
Will leaned against the wall across from the railing. He didn’t have anything to say. He just concentrated on breathing.
But Liam continued. “You know, he wouldn’t have been in your head to begin with if you had followed my example.” He lifted an arm and shoved the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal that his arm was covered in ink. Will knew both arms were. Right now, he saw the markings through the usual blur, but as he narrowed his gaze and concentrated, they began to clear. He focused on them… and they were familiar to him in another way.
The buzzing was back in his head, that feeling of déjà vu, of having seen or done this somewhere – some time – before. The markings were intricate and detailed, beautiful and precise. But more importantly, they were powerful. He knew this.
He even knew what each one was for. There was one for finding someone lost, and one for protecting a home from the invasion of evil, and another for transporting without having to cast a spell….
Will felt absolutely confused. Echoes of voices sounded through his mind as if from the end of a long, long hallway. They mixed and mingled with the shards of agony that sliced and diced Maelstrom’s wicked spell through his system. “None of those would have kept Cain out of my head,” he said, his mouth speaking even when his mind couldn’t keep up. His words trembled, barely fueled with breath.
“Maybe, maybe not,” said Liam with a shrug. “But Cain didn’t take me, he took you.” He slid off the bench and climbed the stairs to Will.
“Because your mind is closed,” said Will. He was seeing stars. He shut his eyes and touched his face. He was feverish, and his hand was shaking badly. But his body felt cold. And the stranger thing was, he could have sworn he had gotten those tattoos. A long, long time ago.
Liam chuckled. “If you say so. But these marks were a hell of a lot less painful to get than that one,” he said as he grabbed Will’s uninjured arm, shoved up the long sleeve, and revealed blank skin. “This will be over soon.”
It cannot last long.
Will blinked, utterly unbothered by the prick of the needle, but thoroughly taken aback by the words that sounded in his head. It wasn’t Cain’s voice. He’d been right about the spell and the brand. Cain was no longer welcome in his mind. No, these were spoken by someone else. They were part of a memory. Of something… something so very important.
“Where’s Helena?” he asked. He thought of her, and even the thought made him feel warmer.
Liam withdrew the needle and glanced up, his expression knowing. “She’s resting,” he said. “You should do the same.”
Will felt the medicine almost at once. Warmth infused him, the pain receded, and dizziness overtook him. He shut his eyes again and leaned more heavily against the wall. Vaguely, he sensed Liam hovering, his arms around his waist and his shoulders, supporting him.
“That’s it. It’s gonna get better now,” his cousin told him consolingly. “Come on, let’s get you in a chair.”
Will allowed Liam to help him through the home gym to the library and heard him pull out a chair at the large rectangular table. Will sank into it gratefully. “I need to see her.”
Liam knelt before him, and Will met his green gaze. Liam smiled. “You got it bad for her, don’t you?”
Will didn’t say anything.
“Where did Pushing Daisies run off to?” Liam asked, obviously referring to Darryl.
“He transported me back then had to leave,” Will replied softly. He swallowed hard; his mouth and throat were getting dry. “Business.”
“Of course,” said Liam. He stood. “I’ll get you some water.”
When Will was alone, he straightened in the chair and breathed deeply. Thoughts moved through his mind like fireflies. But they were trying to come together, to coalesce into a light bulb. He needed to turn it on. And remember.
“Here,” said Liam as he returned and handed him a glass of water. Will drank, quenching the parched throat the medicine had given him. As he did, he felt a change come over him. It was as if the water were cleaning away something else too. Like rain washing a window. He was beginning to see things more clearly.
He put the glass down on the table and flexed his fingers. Then he ran his hand through his thick brown hair. He no longer felt dizzy or weak. He felt strong, in fact. And the pain from the spell was on the outskirts, skating around the edges of his consciousness. He could ignore it.
“Where is she?” he repeated, this time wanting to know her actual location.
Liam’s lips curled. He shook his head. “Go to bed, Will.”
Will watched his cousin turn and leave, striding across the library and out the opposite archway that led to the hallway and bedrooms beyond. Will was alone again.
He stood slowly, cautiously, just in case. But at his full height, he felt just as strong as before. He followed Liam out and made his way to his room. But when he opened his door, it was to find the bedroom occupied.
Helena Dawn lay curled on his bed, her back to him. She had removed her jacket, and her thin white T-shirt did little to hide the beauty underneath. The curve of her waist beckoned seductively, even in blue jeans and boots. He could tell by the way she was breathing that she was awake, despite the drugs she’d been given. No doubt, that had something to do with how she was made – the way beer woke her up and caffeine put her to sleep.
A smile touched his lips, and for just a moment that smile felt cruel. And suddenly he understood what it was women saw in him that made them keep their distance and choose Liam instead. There was a cruelty to him. It was a kind of determination, a hardness. As if there were no gentle parts.
She’d heard him come in. He stayed where he was, filling the doorway while she slowly rolled over to face him. “Hey,” she said. She pulled herself up and swung her long legs over the edge of the bed. Her cheeks and lips were flushed with the excitement she’d experienced that night, and her hair framed her face in layers of silken black like the wings of a raven. It fell over her shoulders, nearly to her waist.
Her deep maroon gaze was steady and clear, not to mention perceptive. It slipped to the mark on his arm, her chin lifted a touch, and the next thing she said was, “Cain was in your head, wasn’t he?”
Will watched her carefully, all sorts of things awakening inside him. “He was,” he told her. “But no longer.”
She nodded. “I figured.” She gestured to the red brand on his forearm. “That was smart.” She shrugged a little. “Painful,” she added with a knowing expression. “But smart.”
Will remained where he was, just watching her. The world seemed to be slowing around them, its rotation grinding to a halt as if it wanted to see what would happen next too. And then he made the decision for them both. It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.
He closed the door behind him. Then he locked it. Not once did he take his eyes from hers.
She watched him as keenly as he did her, and with the way he felt just then, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see fear in her eyes. Instead, her gaze never wavered. She did not shrink away. Not even when he left the door and strode to the bed. Not even when he stopped so close to her, their legs touched.
Her strength and courage were beautiful. Like everything about her.
He schooled himself. “Are you alright?” he asked, bending to gently grasp her wrist. He turned her arm over, revealing the brand that was twin to his own.
Helena took a long time to respond. Her gaze seemed lost in his. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. He held her there, almost feeling the chains he wrapped around her himself. That cruel part of him that was only now revealing itself continued to pull his strings.
Finally, Helena swallowed. He watched the workings of her throat, a smooth column of perfection he knew Cain would give anything to sink his fangs into. Hell, Will wanted to bite her himself and he was completely human.
Am I?
A nudge of doubt, small, faint and distant. But there.
“I’m okay,” she told him with a slight nod. But there was the tiniest tremble to her voice. “Much better, anyway,” she continued. “I should actually thank Maelstrom for the spell.” She swallowed again, glancing down at her arm where he held her. Bravely pushing the boundaries, Will allowed his thumb to very, very softly brush over the newly formed mark.
He knew it hurt. But he knew something else too. There was something more in that touch, something he gave her that he couldn’t even identify. He just knew it was there and he wanted her to have it.
Just as he’d suspected, Helena shivered and closed her beautiful burgundy eyes. Goosebumps rose across her smooth skin. When she opened her eyes a second later, her pupils had dilated drastically, nearly filling her irises. Her breath seemed to be catching when she said, “Have you… ever noticed…” She licked her lips, her attempt at changing the subject obviously difficult for her. “How Will and Liam together make ‘William’?”
William.
Will’s grip on Helena’s arm tightened. He didn’t mean to do it. But for a moment, he was no longer in his own body, much less in his own mind. The name echoed through his spirit, hollow and hard, sending him hurtling down that long hall filled with distantly calling memories.
He saw Liam’s tattoos, but not on his cousin – on his own arm. He recalled a personal love for classic cars and felt the driver’s seat thrill of a ’67 Ford Shelby. Not his cousin’s love for it, not his cousin driving it… but him.
William.
It echoed louder now, more clearly, as if spoken by something absolutely powerful.
That was his name, wasn’t it? Will was short for William. So why hadn’t Liam ever called him that? Or Fort? Or Ashrim or even Darryl? He had never been called William.
Never? Am I so sure?
Never was an awfully long time. It involved an eternity.
“Will?”
Will blinked. At once, he realized what he was doing and released Helena’s arm. But she didn’t pull away. She didn’t look at him accusingly or with pain or fear. Quite the opposite. Her cheeks were flushed, her breathing quick, and her eyes were glazed with something he recognized all too well. “Are… you okay?” she asked softly, her brow furrowing with concern despite her physical response. It was barely more than a whisper, maybe all she could manage.
And that was more than he could take. He gazed down at her utterly and completely lost. She was the most breathtaking vision he’d ever laid his tired eyes on. Ever.
It was an awfully long time. And he just so happened to know it intimately.