Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Erasmus
Ugh. This was the second time this year waking up in the hospital. That was not a good record.
“Hey, sweetheart. You awake?” Momma’s worried eyes greeted me when I finally opened my own. “Ah, there are those beautiful green eyes I love so much.”
“M-momma,” I croaked, my throat arid.
“Who else would it be?” Momma winked before reaching over and grabbing a glass of water with a straw. “Just little sips for now.”
I did as told and thought it just might be the best water I’d ever had. My throat was better but my head still felt foggy and ached something fierce. The little beeps on the heart monitor sang in time with my wakefulness and my right hand was covered in tape, an IV below.
For better or possibly worse, I didn’t have to put much effort into trying to remember what happened. I could still feel that plastic bag covering my nose and mouth, restricting the oxygen I so desperately needed. Only slightly more disturbing was the memory of Susan’s and Titus’s body’s hanging in the air, the look of abject horror in their eyes, and the cracking sound of bones, ending in the snap of their necks.
I shivered, and Momma mistakenly thought it was from the cold. “I’ll get you another blanket,” Momma promised before opening a closet, rummaging through, and pulling out a heavier blanket. “I don’t know why they always keep it so cold in these places.” Momma fussed as she settled the blanket around me, tucking it in on the sides and pulling it up to my neck. She winced when her eyes connected with my neck, and I suddenly realized how painful that area was.
Lightly touching the skin made me wince in pain. Momma’s hands found mine and gently tugged them away. “Don’t do that. It’ll only make it hurt worse.”
I could only guess what the skin on my neck looked like. Titus had twisted the end of the bag there, cinching it down. If the plastic bag hadn’t asphyxiated me, then the pressure around my neck would have done the job.
Momma’s eyes shimmered with tears and a single drop fell, landing on our clutched hands. Guilt tore at my chest. “I’m sorry, Momma.”
Stubbornly rubbing the tears from her cheeks, Momma said, “Nonsense. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
I begged to differ but didn’t think now was the time. Instead, I asked, “Franklin? Where—”
“He’ll be back soon. Nikodemus arrived and Franklin went to the reception area to fetch him and lead him to your room.”
I barely held in a fresh groan. “Pops is here?”
“Of course he is.” Momma’s fingers continued fussing with my blanket. “You know better than to assume he’d stay in California when you’re lying in a hospital bed.”
If Pops was here, that had to mean I’d been out of it for at least a few hours. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Six hours and some change. At least since you’ve been in the hospital. No one’s certain how long…how long you were lying in that cemetery.” Momma’s gaze wouldn’t meet mine.
A fresh apology was on the tip of my lips but died when I heard Pops’s heavy footsteps in the hall. His body took up nearly the entire frame of the doorway. All warlocks went prematurely white and Pops was no different. The stark white was a harsh contrast against the unforgiving blackness of the rest of his hair.
“I was told you weren’t awake yet,” Pops said as he walked into the room. I caught snatches of Franklin’s body behind him, but Pops generally overshadowed everyone else in the room, including the man I loved.
“He just woke up,” Momma answered.
“Then I’m just in time.” Pops grinned and leaned over the bed, blocking out the annoying fluorescent lighting. His large, black-tipped fingers framed my cheeks as he kissed my forehead. Inhaling deeply, Pops pulled away but didn’t release my face. His eyes darkened as he scanned my body, taking in the bruise on my face and the damage done to my neck. Without a word, Pops shoved a pain charm into my hand and activated it. The relief was immediate.
“Thanks, Pops,” I said after a relieved sigh.
“Anytime.” Jaw locked down tight, Pops finally released me and took another step back. His smile appeared forced but with a hint of relief also. “Franklin filled me in on what he knows. However, I believe there are still several gaps in our understanding. Are you up to that or do you need more time?”
Franklin finally found a way around Pops and came to my side. My man appeared tired, but in good spirits. “Hey, love. How are you feeling?” Franklin asked, ignoring Pops’s request for information.
“Like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.” My attempt at levity fell flat. “Hey, I’m okay. How about you?” I didn’t know which arm Franklin had been shot in and looked at both, but his long sleeves covered any damage.
“You can stop looking. I’m all healed, thanks to Captain Cicely.”
I eased into my pillows, sighing with relief. “I’m glad.”
“Me too. Now, since I’m all sorted out, let’s concentrate on you.” Franklin’s fingers carded through my hair, his fingertips gently skirting across my tender skin. If I were a cat, I would have purred. “What about it? Do you feel like telling us what happened?”
My eyes pinched closed as memories assaulted my mind. “I’d rather not, but I think I need to. I…I’m not really sure I understand myself.” Momma offered me another drink of water, and after thanking her, I started in. I told them everything I could remember, starting with the fact that the woman who’d been contacting me wasn’t, in fact, the real Janet Meeker and ending with the horridly odd way she and her husband, Titus McMahon, died.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Maybe I was delirious. I mean, my oxygen was low so maybe I was seeing things. I’ve never heard of anyone who can control shadows. Maybe a fairy?” We all knew that fairies had different affinities. Hellfire Rayburn’s was fire and Hamish McIntosh was more plant based, at least from what I’d heard. And then there was Wendall. He was only part fairy but had inherited his fairy ancestor’s propensity for water. From what I understood, Wendall was still attempting to get a handle on those abilities. Maybe there was a fairy that could control and manipulate shadows. But even if so, why were they there? How could they have known I was in trouble, and why would they have stepped in to help? Besides, fairies weren’t really known for being shy little wallflowers. They were a proud lot, and I couldn’t imagine one of them not taking credit for something so obviously powerfully deadly.
Pops’s skin was waxen and pale. His fingers were tightened into fists and his dark eyes seemingly stared at nothing at all.
Unease crept beneath my skin like little ants. “Pops?” He knew. Pops knew something and he was afraid to say it. “What’s going on?”
Pops’s jaw worked from side to side and his lips were pressed so tightly they blanched. Gaze focusing, Pops didn’t look at me, but Franklin. “This fits with the call you received from Huxley.”
I sat up a little straighter, grateful for the pain charm Pops gave me. “Tenzen Huxley? What does he have to do with this?” I stared, wide-eyed as Franklin recounted the phone call he’d gotten. Until that moment, I hadn’t really considered how Franklin found me. I think I’d just assumed it had something to do with Captain Cicely.
“Shadow borne,” Pops whispered in what sounded like hushed awe. “It’s just been a rumor, but…perhaps this bit of gossip has teeth.”
“What on earth are all of you talking about? Who’s this Tenzen Huxley fellow?” Color flushed Momma’s cheeks and she crossed her arms, lifting her chin. “What have you been keeping from me?” The question was directed at Pops, but Momma’s eyes strayed to mine and Franklin’s long enough for her to silently relate her displeasure.
Pops swallowed and if anything, his skin paled further. Facing Momma’s ire was never fun. “We didn’t want to upset you, Lydia.”
Momma’s eyebrows shot to the top of her head. “Well, fat lot of good that did you considering I am, in fact, very upset.”
Pops cleared his throat. “Yes, well…” Clearly there was nothing more to say. Pops knew Momma well and had performed this dance before. When Momma was angry, it was often best to shut your mouth and wait to see how best to placate her wrath.
“Start talking, Nikodemus.” Momma turned and pointed a finger at Franklin and me too. “And don’t think the two of you are off the hook either. I want to know what’s been happening and why your pops looks two steps from falling into an early grave at the mention of this Huxley fellow. And while you’re at it, pretend I’m a simple human without a magical bone in my body and explain to me what shadow borne means.”
Franklin wisely scooted closer to me, resting his rear on my bed as we let Pops take the proverbial reigns. I’ll give Momma this, she listened with few interruptions. Of course, she didn’t need to verbally scold any of us when her glare eviscerated our souls.
Pops ran through the story, only hesitating when he arrived at the last part of Momma’s request. Tilting back his head, Pops stared at the ceiling. I didn’t think he was stalling and Momma must not have either because she stood there, arms still crossed and cheeks still flushed red, but patiently waiting.
Lowering his head, Pops shook it back and forth. “I’m not sure how to describe what shadow borne means. Mostly because none of us really know.”
Franklin spoke before Momma. “You must have some idea.”
“To an extent. Maybe. Who’s to say if what I know is even accurate?” I don’t think I’d ever heard Pops so unsure. I’d often found his arrogance overbearing, but right this second, I would have happily traded his uncertainty for a little of that arrogance.
“Holland’s right,” Loretta Cicely said from the doorway. I wasn’t certain when she arrived, but it must have been long enough ago that she’d been able to hear at least part of our discussion.
“Captain,” Franklin greeted and started to stand.
“No need to get up on my account, O’Hare. Stay where you are.” Loretta moved farther into the room, crowding our small space. I watched her shoot a wary glance Pops’s way before scooting around the foot of my bed and moving closer to Momma. “Ms. Boone,” Loretta greeted.
Momma’s sour look dissipated as she greeted Franklin’s boss warmly. “Captain Cicely. Thank you so much for helping Franklin find my son, and for the healing potions you so generously gave him and Franklin.”
Loretta’s cheeks flushed as she waved Momma off. “I was happy to help.” Clearing her throat, Loretta’s gaze landed on Pops as she said, “Holland’s not feeding you a line. Shadow borne are more myth than fact.” Loretta’s lips twisted before she whispered, “Kind of like djinn.” Cautiously glancing around the room, Loretta asked, “Is she here?”
“Who, dear?” Momma asked.
“Aurelia,” I answered before Loretta had a chance. “And no, not that I know of. I think Aurelia would show herself to me, but I can’t guarantee it.”
Loretta’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s good. I, uh… I doubt your djinn likes me very much, considering…” Loretta waved a hand up and down her body.
Pops’s shoulders stiffened, his haughty demeanor quickly returning. “I believe Aurelia’s distaste for witches is understandable.”
“I’m not arguing that fact,” Loretta conceded before clearing her throat. “Back to shadow borne. I would guess nearly every species has their own lore regarding them. As for witches, we believe they are old, one of the first species to inhabit the planet.”
“Even before fairies?” Momma asked.
Pops answered, “As far as we know, fairies lived in Fairy for untold years before migrating to this realm.” Pops scratched the dark stubble on his chin. “I’m not certain that is how a fairy would describe the different worlds, but it is how warlocks define it.”
“Witches also,” Loretta agreed. “From what I’ve been told, shadow borne were here before fairies, but I doubt anyone knows for sure but the shadow borne themselves.”
“You mean their descendants,” Franklin asked.
“Uh…no,” Loretta answered. “As far as we know, shadow borne don’t have descendants . At least, not in the way we would think of it.”
I sat up a little straighter. “You mean to tell me that if Tenzen Huxley is one of these shadow borne, that he’s what?” My gaze snapped between Pops and Loretta. “He’s older than dirt?”
Loretta’s chuckle was wobbly at best. “I suppose that would be as good of a way of saying it as any. To our knowledge, they are just as immortal, if not more so, than djinn. Born when the first rays of the sun cast the first shadows upon the Earth.”
“Sweet Gaia,” I whispered. Franklin’s fingers slid between mine, grasping me tight.
Pops appeared grim. “It’s only speculation. Interestingly, warlock lore concerning the shadow borne closely mimics what Loretta spoke of. The only tidbit I would add is that it is believed that most of the shadow borne became disenchanted with their endless lives.”
“What does that mean?” Momma thankfully asked.
Pops shrugged. “We aren’t certain. Some believe shadow borne lost the will to continue and simply faded from existence.”
Loretta picked up the tale. “Others believe many, if not all, became willingly dormant. It is simply an alternative version of what Holland suggested. Either way, they are no longer in play.”
“Except for Huxley,” Franklin said. “You believe he might be shadow borne.”
Pops and Loretta shared a knowing glance across my hospital bed, but it was Pops that answered, “There have been rumors…and concerns.”
Loretta made a scoffing sound. “I’ve never known you to downplay a situation, Holland.”
Pops’s grimace made my stomach queasy. “I had always hoped those rumors were simply that. However, given what Erasmus saw at the cemetery today…I am inclined to believe otherwise. And that, my friends, is a very unfortunate statement.” Pops turned his attention solely on me. “While I am beyond grateful you are alive and well, I would be lying if I said I am not dismayed by the details of your salvation.”
Loretta’s previous scoff turned into a grunt. “Again with downplaying the situation.” Hooking a thumb in Pops’s direction, Loretta turned to Franklin and me and said, “Hearing what happened to Titus and Susan McMahon scares the shit out of me.”
I swallowed hard as fear found an unwelcome home in my soul. Shivers wracked my body. Momma was quick to act by pulling out yet another blanket and layering it on top of me. If only that added layer of fabric could warm the cold pool of dread seeping into every nook and cranny of my being. Some days there simply weren’t enough blankets to keep the monsters at bay.