Telor 8
It had killed me a little to watch her struggle with herself. I could see the internal battle raging in her mind. Fighting against what it knew to be right and what Cheyenne had told it. Even if she never remembered me, it would still be the single most unforgivable thing I’d ever done. Which was saying something. I wasn’t exactly a saint in life.
Slumped against a tree in Catalina’s backyard, I was able to deflect most of the wind. The fence and garage helped a bit, also. In my haste to keep her safe and out of Tori’s hands, I never thought of what I was actually going to do once I was here. I gave Seline a call about an hour ago, stating that I completed my coursework last month and was looking to volunteer and bank some experience hours before I started job-hunting after graduation this spring. She didn’t need to hear much more after that. She simply told me to show up tomorrow and she would sign whatever I needed to prove my hours.
Being human, well as human as I was, was exhausting. My body was protesting at the simplest of commands: walk, stay awake, even look that way. All of these things took great effort. Guides were usually only in the physical state for brief periods of time…when we needed to “take care of things.” It usually didn’t last more than a few hours, but I managed to make it to eighteen today before I gave in to the exhaustion. Lucky for me, I seemed to have kept all my Guide “Extras,” like heightened hearing, being just a little bit faster, and a sixth sense for when I was being watched. They would come in handy when things got ugly. Because they would get ugly, sooner or later. My money was on the former.
How very poetic that Death’s favorite toy defied and left her, all to keep a human alive. Cheyenne was right; Tori would make someone pay. I just wished I would be the one to pay the price and not Catalina. Knowing Tori, that might be too much to ask of her.
The wind blew harder against the peeling green paint of the garage, whistling through the air. Though it was slightly stalker-ish, I watched her through her bedroom window. Her eyes scanned the yard, passing over me like I wasn’t there, before doubling back and resting on the exact place I was standing.
Her curiosity was evident. She tilted her head to the side, her hair falling across her face and concealing her expression. Was it possible that Cheyenne’s command hadn’t worked? Right now, I was willing to believe anything was possible. My musings distracted me long enough that I didn’t even see her step away.
Maybe she hadn’t seen anything; maybe she wasn’t even looking at me. Jesus, I’m going crazy. This girl had me going mental. Resigning myself to another lonely night watching her house, I settled into my spot just as the back door slammed shut. I peeked around the tree. Catalina stood in the middle of the yard looking directly at me, tightening a thin sweater around her.
She couldn’t see me right now. At least, she shouldn’t be able to see me. Regardless, her eyes were focused my way, and for a moment, I allowed myself to fantasize that she could see me, that she was looking at me.
“Hello,” she whispered, glancing back at the house before returning her attention to me. “Is anybody there? No, that’s stupid. I know you’re there. I can feel you.”
Heavy relief pulsed through my body. She could feel it, too. She could feel me.
“Please, don’t leave.” She almost whimpered the last words. “Stay, please?”
Every part of me wanted to materialize right in front of her, to take her in my arms and hold her close. That was the type of self-serving bastard that I was. Was—I was that man. I could be different now. She made me want to be different.
“I can’t remember you. I’m trying, but I can’t. I don’t know how to explain it, but I know there is a you, whatever that means. I can feel this abstract idea of a you.” She wiped angry tears from her face and took a deep breath, releasing it in a puff of smoke and wrapping her arms around herself to help ward off the cold.
“Go in the house, crazy girl,” I said aloud. “You’ll catch your death out here.”
Her eyes traveled over me, feeling rather than seeing me.
“Good, God.” She rubbed her eyes roughly with the heels of her hands and let out a cry of frustration. “Look at me, standing in my backyard, talking to the wind. I’m going crazy. I’m really going crazy. Now, I’m talking to myself.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, my lips tilted upward into a small smile. Wanting to soothe her obvious pain, I made a split-second decision. I stood and walked toward her so we were standing face to face, her hot breath exhaling onto my chin. I wanted to embrace her, hold her in my arms.
“You’re not crazy,” I told her, sliding my knuckles down her cheek, taking pleasure in the way she closed her eyes and leaned into my touch.
Her eyes sharpened on my position and she shook herself from her temporary indulgence, whispering, “I need you.”
If there was any doubt in my mind before, it was gone now. She owns me. All of me. I was hers.
The back door swung shut, startling us both. Gavin stood on the back porch, searching worriedly for Catalina.
“There you are. What are you doing out here?” he asked, as he walked up to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
She stiffened for a millisecond before her body relaxed slightly.
“Just needed some air,” she answered, allowing him to lead her back to the house. With a last fleeting look over her shoulder in my direction, she was gone.