34
Rayne
Caretaker
S alem didn’t stitch me up the way I would have. She was slow and careful, whispering apologies when I swore in pain. She was gentler to me than I ever would have been, and I didn’t know how to thank her for that.
I didn’t know how to thank her for any of this.
She sat cross-legged beside me, jaw clenched, focused solely on her work. Jab, tug, jab, tug. Despite the cold tile floor beneath me, I was sweating bullets from the pain. Fortunately, or not, I’d lost enough blood to feel high, shock offering me some mild relief.
“I’ll get you food,” she said, glancing worriedly at my face. I was willing to bet I looked as bad as I felt. “As soon as I’m done with this.”
“I need whiskey, ibuprofen, and zolpidem,” I said. “I—oh, fuck—”
“Sorry.” I grimaced as she tugged the thread through. “I’m not very good at this.”
“You’re doing great,” I said, gritting my teeth.
Loki nudged into the room, peering at me with his ears pricked up.
Weakly, I reached out my hand and rubbed his muzzle, then scratched under his chin.
“You shouldn’t have come after me, silly boy.
You shouldn’t have either.” I looked at Salem, but she just shook her head.
“Even knowing that thing is out there, when I heard your voice, I...” She paused, running her finger gently over the stitching before tying off the end. “I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t . Could you? If it was me?”
With a knot growing in my chest and an ache behind my eyes, I said, “If it was you, I’d go to the ends of the Earth to bring you back. But I’m not worth your life, Salem.”
Fiercely, she said, “That’s not fucking true.
You deserve to be saved just as much as I do.
” She gripped my arm and I winced, but she was too upset to notice.
“You don’t deserve to be abandoned, Rayne!
I would never, I...” She took a deep breath, and I braced myself as if she was going to hit me.
She did strike—not with her hand but with her words. “I’m sorry you were made to feel that way. When you were little, and you were scared, you shouldn’t have been alone. But you’re not anymore, remember? I promise you, I’m not going anywhere.”
My chest felt as thin as an eggshell, about to crack.
I was thankful she kept talking, babbling to calm her nerves as she bandaged me.
She talked about her mom—“She was a little witchy, I guess. As if you couldn’t tell by my name”—and about how she should have listened more closely to her recipes for poultices and tinctures.
I drifted in and out of consciousness, her voice like a song drawing me back to reality when I floated too far away.
I was a kite, bobbing over the sea, dipping and diving on the wind. Almost free.
When she helped me into bed and my head hit the pillow, it was the closest thing to a religious experience I’d ever had. I was warm. My hands didn’t shake and my mind was blessedly slow. My eyes were too heavy to open, but her voice was still there, gentle and calm.
“Just sleep as long as you need to. I’ll be here. I’m right here.”
The night was cold and dark, and I couldn’t see where I was going.
Rain pelted my face like the vicious bites of invisible spirits. My thin clothes were soaked, my empty hands slick with water.
Where were my weapons? My light?
Stumbling in the dark, a prickle went up my spine. Something was creeping through the trees close by—I couldn’t see it, but I could hear its heavy steps, grass crunching, twigs snapping. I could hear its harsh breathing.
“Salem...” I gasped her name aloud. Where was she? Why wasn’t she with me? Had she gotten lost?
Her name filled my throat, and I wanted to bellow it into the dark, but I didn’t dare.
“Salem!” I whispered instead, too loud, and the movements nearby suddenly went quiet. It knew I was here.
“Salem... no, no, where are you? Salem!” I ran, my panic growning. The trees went on and on, the darkness so deep. The footsteps were getting closer, the harsh breathing becoming faster.
“Salem!” I screamed for her, sprinting now, dodging around trees and leaping over stones. “Salem, where—”
“I’m here. I’m here, Rayne.”
I woke with a start, gasping for breath. My fingers were clenched, gripped tight around something.
When I realized it was Salem’s hand I was crushing in my fist, I swiftly let go.
“Sorry.” I rubbed my face, but my limbs were shaky and weak. The room was dark, illuminated only by the smoldering glow of the coals in the fireplace. My head swam when I tried to sit up, and I slumped back onto the pillow. The sheets were soaked with my sweat, and I was entirely naked.
“What time is it?” I said. “I need to... to check on...”
But Salem laid her hand against my forehead, easing me back, murmuring to me softly. “You don’t need to do anything. You’re okay. I called the doctor. As soon as the storm lets up, she’ll come. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
Nothing was safe. Neither walls nor doors could protect me.
So then how could I ever hope to protect her?
I was crushing her hand again, but this time, I couldn’t let go.
“Don’t leave.” I don’t know why those words escaped me. I hadn’t planned them; they’d leapt from my heart to my tongue before I could stop them.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She lay down beside me, head resting on the pillow as she gently stroked my cheek. She was wearing my sweatshirt; it was bunched around her wrists, loose around her chest. “I’ve got you. I’m here. You were just having a bad dream.”
All dreams were like that.
Staring at the ceiling, counting my heartbeats, I waited for them to slow.
All the while, Salem talked to me. Her voice was soft, as tender as her touch.
She stroked my cheek and trailed her fingers down my throat.
She drew patterns on my bare chest. Her touch wasn’t sexual; it demanded nothing yet gave everything.
The last thing I heard her say before I drifted off to sleep again was “I’m with you, Rayne. I’m with you.”