CHAPTER ELEVEN
When her lips were on his, his mind was clear. Clarity finally coming to his tormented soul. He knew from one kiss that he would never kiss any other lips but hers. Through her he would remember, he would put names to the faces that hovered in his memory as fragments of truth. He would soon work out why that one name caused his brain to short circuit, and when he did he was going to hunt down the bastard who had done this to him. But standing here watching the soft bloom of rose color her cheeks he felt like he could face anything, even his unknown past.
She stood nibbling on the side of her thumb, too caught in her own brain, and rightly so. In truth, he had not considered the child in all of this, a young female with gifts that rivaled—if not surpassed—the members of her family. Now that he had made his choice, it was easy to open the circle to allow her and the sister in. Even if the twin decided she was going to put a bullet in his head he would protect them anyway. He walked over to Layla and placed a hand on her back. She turned her gaze up to him.
“You don’t know what you are saying. What if you’re married? Have a family? Don’t make promises that are impossible to keep right now.”
“I’m not married, that I would know. I would feel it here…” He placed her hand over his heart. “It is tuned only to you. I knew it when you shocked me to my soul with your power.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It hurt, you know.” She lifted her injured hand and gave him a smile.
He reached up and took her hand in his. He would make it up to her somehow. Just knowing he had harmed her was a raw wound on his soul. Their peaceful interlude was shattered seconds later by the sound of a revving engine and honking horn. Layla frowned and headed to the door, throwing it open just as Lexi jumped out and ran around to pull Annabelle from the car. The scene before him sent every protective instinct within him on high alert.
Layla’s world tilted in that second—the sight of her sister covered in blood and dust, her daughter limp with her eyes closed. Layla’s heart stopped, and she almost screamed as she ran down the steps toward them. Lexi was crying, her cheeks marred with streaked dust. She did not even hear Wolfman following behind her, but he moved like lightening and grabbed Lexi before she collapsed and lost the precious cargo she held.
“What the hell happened?” His voice, tone, everything had changed from the teasing male he had been inside.
“The bakery, someone hit ice, ran into it, so many dead bodies. I couldn’t help. I tried to save as many as I could, but it hurt so badly. Belle, she… I told her to stay in the car! She brought someone back, she brought back someone dead, Layla!”
Sucking in air in desperation, Layla knelt beside her sister and took her limp daughter into her arms. She held her tightly to her chest and couldn’t breathe. It was as if the world had been sucked dry of air and she desperately needed just one more breath. It couldn’t be, her child could not be dead. Bringing back the dead always resulted in death—you couldn’t bring someone back like that. Lexi knew it, she had tried it, and despite all odds they had managed to start her heart again, but she had been dead for five minutes—five minutes of endless hell for Layla.
She didn’t even realize she was screaming until she felt strong arms lift her and carry her into the house. Lexi didn’t even try and stop him. He set Layla on the couch and she refused to let her daughter go. Annabelle still felt warm. She could not be dead. Lexi sat in the armchair staring at nothing. Had the world just stopped?
He ran his hands along Annabelle’s arms, a frown on his face. He could see inside her, and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if he had an actual ability. He followed that path and the child’s body lit up before him like a diagram of wires shimmering with energy.
The child was not dead, her body buzzed with life. His eyes skimmed her form, focusing on a bright pulsing ball of light stuttering dark and coming back to brightness at the base of her skull. Her brain, however, was like a dim bulb, the bright light muted and dimming every second.
He looked up at the female who, in a short period of time, had saved him from madness and given him reason to fight for his memories. Reaching out he touched her cheek, bringing her shimmering eyes to his.
“Layla, she is not dead. There is energy buzzing in her body. There is a blockage at the base of her brain preventing her from waking. I am no healer. I can’t fix this.” His eyes turned to Lexi and she stood up, wringing her bloodied hands.
“I’m sorry. I should have gotten to her quicker; I didn’t even know she had left the car. Layla, please forgive me.” He watched the sister look at her hands again. It was clear she had been suffering as well.
“Let me fix this, I can fix this,” she kept saying over and over. Moving to her knees before the child, she reached for her. The powers of the healer were all over the place, her energy sparking about her like fireworks. He could see it in the air around them. Reaching out he placed his hand against her back.
“Look for a small lump on the back of her neck. The energy flow is all wrong.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “How do you know this?”
“I can see it, I can see the energy flow in you, in her. Trust me, Lexi, I know it is difficult given what little you know about me, but trust me anyway.”
He watched the play of energy from within the twin sister. She was clearly wary of him, but she nodded and closed her eyes, opening herself up and allowing him to show her the path. He made sure to redirect any errant energy away from her like a grounding rod so she could concentrate only on healing the child.
“I can see it, the blockage of energy at the base of her skull. I need to be careful. If I open it too fast, I could cause more damage.”
“Correct. Release it slowly, bleed the pressure off.” There was a risk of seizure if the dam holding back this child’s energy was released all at once.
The world around him faded into nothing. He could feel a seemingly bottomless pool of calm within him. He reached for it, sending some of that energy to Lexi as she began to slowly unwind the ball of energy. Each thread caused the child to breathe a little deeper, to wince and whimper a little louder.
“Mommy.” Finally, a soft voice broke through the silence. He opened his eyes to see Layla cradling her child, rocking her back and forth, tears streaming down her face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lexi waver, and he slid an arm around her before she hit the floor.
“Impressive, healer, very impressive.”
Layla pulled the covers up over her sleeping daughter and sat beside her on the bed. Annabelle didn’t remember anything about the disaster at the bakery or what happened afterward. All she could remember was waking up in Layla’s arms and everyone being really worried about her. It was a miracle, pure and simple. How could she bring someone back that way and not have massive amounts of damage? Leaning down, Layla kissed her daughter’s forehead, squeezing her eyes closed tightly as tears burned her nose. Never again, her child was not going to be healing again, not until she could control her powers.
She heard the door creak. Turning around she saw the huge form of her Wolfman standing there watching her. Layla stood and walked to the door, not wanting to leave her daughter but knowing she needed sleep. She held herself, feeling like the walls between them had been erected once again. But he just reached out and pulled her into his arms. She felt his strength seeping into her, and she buried her face against his chest.
“Your sister is sleeping; her body is battered. It is a nasty backlash, isn’t it?”
Layla nodded against his chest. He led her downstairs into the living room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace, and for a moment she felt like she could drop some of this endless weight on someone else.
He sank down onto the couch and pulled her with him. The day had been draining, mentally and physically. Letting him take some of that burden seemed selfish, but he appeared willing to take it, even when he had his own issues hovering over his head.
“I thought of a name for you.” Layla kept eyes closed and just enjoyed his strength for a few more moments.
“Hmm, not Pewburt I hope?”
The smile was weak but it was there. “No, not Pewburt. I had a dog growing up, he was large and protective and perfect. You remind me of him, he was called Satan.”
He lifted his head and frowned at her. “You called your dog Satan?”
“No, my father did, because he kept eating his shoes and peeing in his briefcase. He bit the mailman once and chased a bunch of bullies down the street after they hit Lexi. I called him Tan. He was wonderful. A giant German Shepherd.”
“I would prefer not to be called Satan, but Tan I can do.” He stroked his hand down her back and she chuckled softly.
“Okay, Tan, you now have a name.”