Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
SAMANTHA
I hadn’t noticed how torn up my room was when I first woke up, but something bad definitely happened here. Was that a person-sized dent in the drywall?
I shook my head. Whatever. It was just stuff. The important thing was that I was here, home, alive.
Van was alive, too. I knew that much. I’d at least accomplished something.
And Gabe…
I thought about what Eli had said. He was right. Gabe was home. Just not in the kind of home I’d wish on anyone. Gabe was dead, but even the souls in Hell could bleed and suffer. No matter what Eli thought, I still felt like it was my fault Gabe was in trouble.
I rose from the pullout couch, and the room began to swim a little, and yeah. Okay. Eli was right. I was going to need to rest for a while. Just standing for a few seconds was wearing me out, which meant I was no good to Gabe. Not yet.
But I still wasn’t promising Eli anything. If Gabe didn’t get himself out of that cage and come find me soon, I’d have to figure out a way to help him.
How? I had no freaking idea. I wasn’t sure I could go back and get him. I didn’t have it in me. It would take years before I’d do something that stupid again, but?—
I took a step and almost face planted but caught myself against my closet door.
I couldn’t think about Gabe. Not right now. I actually did need to eat.
I opened my closet and thanked God that everything was still there.
Getting dressed took much longer than normal, and by the time I managed to tug on a long sweater and some shorts, I was sweating. I hit the bathroom before heading downstairs, and it was a mess in there, too. I glanced in the mirror.
Holy shit. Even I was a mess. My skin was pale, shadows under my eyes, and I felt hollow. Even if I had the energy to put on makeup, I wasn’t sure makeup could fix this.
My vision grayed, and I knew I needed to move before I passed out.
I flicked the cover down over the toilet and sat. I hadn’t been this weak in a long time, and from how this kind of thing usually went, it would take me a while to recover.
That was beyond frustrating. I couldn’t afford weeks of downtime. Not with how things were trending, but that was where I was.
I had to remind myself that saving Van was worth it. That if this was the price I had to pay, that was fine. I would pay it and be grateful I’d been able to help a friend.
Aside from that, I needed to eat. Food would fix this. Maybe. It had to.
I rose slowly, making sure I wouldn’t pass out before leaving the bathroom.
My legs were weak as I padded downstairs, but I refused to ask for help. Stubborn. I was being stubborn, and I knew it. But I wasn’t backing down.
It took until I was nearly at the bottom of the stairway for the scent to register. I paused for a second. Churro chip cookies. Like snickerdoodle but better because chocolate made everything better.
Churro chip cookies were a tradition for Mom, who told me she’d been making them since she was a kid. Whenever she hit hard times growing up, she made churro chip cookies to tell herself that life wasn’t all bad.
Now, Mom made them for me anytime I was struggling or when I needed to celebrate a win.
Today was a win.
Smelling the cookies made me remember that no matter how I was feeling about Gabe, I’d done something good. I’d saved Van, and I was alive, safe, home. No matter what else happened, that was worth celebrating.
I met her gaze across the open-concept kitchen-dining room. “We did it.”
“No, baby. You did it.” She handed me a cookie like I’d won an award. “You brought Van back safely, and you’re home.” She closed the distance between us, and I leaned into her, taking some of her strength.
She squeezed me tight and gave my back a little up-and-down pat. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now, but it’ll take you a bit before you settle into that. It always does. We’ve been here before, and we’ll get through the rest. Whatever it is. Okay?”
How did she always know exactly what to say? My eyes burned, and before I could stop it, a tear slid free. “Okay.” I wasn’t saying it to anyone or about anything in particular. Just like— Okay. I’ll try.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered as she pulled away.
Oh, yeah. No. “No, please.” I was still dizzy and covered in a memory-driven cold sweat, and I could feel the nightmare still coating my skin with its oily, evil residue.
Mom was right. It would take me time before I shook this feeling off. The feeling of Hell.
Mom gripped my hand and walked me over to the island stools. Frank sat on one, so I took the one next to him.
I glanced over at Phoenix, who was leaning against the counter on the other side of the island, watching me.
He wore the standard T-shirt and sweatpants that the pack always had lying around. His tattoos were showing on his arm, and I wanted to get a better look, but I was caught by the look in his eyes.
Something in those hazel-green eyes...
I was missing something. Forgetting something. What?
Man, I felt like I was going crazy, and I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know why he’d stayed. Not that I wanted him to go, but I just…
Why would he want to stay? I was a mess right now. I knew I looked as bad as I felt, and I wasn’t great company. I wouldn’t be for a while.
I didn’t have any answers, so I moved on to the easier thing. “When did you get here?” I asked Frank, and then took a bite of the cookie Mom had handed me.
The cinnamon and chocolate coated my tongue, and I knew I was home again. Everything would be okay. It might take some time, but I’d be okay.
“Just before you woke up,” Frank said. “I started to drive home after a particularly bad exorcism but ended up here. Funny how that happens.”
“Yeah. Funny.” But it wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t believe in those, so I wondered what had happened during his exorcism and why he was really here.
I was too tired to think too hard about that, though. So, instead, I took another bit of cookie, like it would fix everything.
I could feel everyone watching me, but at least Tessa, Dastien, and the rest of the gang had left. If it was truly everyone , I might’ve gone back upstairs and hid for a while. Or forever. Or at least long enough for them to leave.
But Mom knew that. I knew she must’ve convinced my friends to go—that I would sleep fine, that I would be okay, that all was well—when she knew that none of those things were true.
The microwave dinged. “Let me get your food,” Mom said, snagging a plate from the microwave. She slid it across the island, handed me a fork, and then stood next to Phoenix.
Great. Now, they were both watching me. Feeling way too exposed, I stared down at the plate and grabbed the fork.
“How are you feeling?” Phoenix asked.
“Tired.” My stomach rumbled, and I started ate. I didn’t even look at what she’d made me. I didn’t taste it. And if someone told me to name what I’d eaten or die, well then, I guess I’d just die.
The only thing that registered was that it was warm. So, I moved on autopilot, shoveling in the food until I was done.
When my plate was clean, I dropped my fork and swayed on the stool.
“Whoa,” Frank said. “Careful.”
“Hmm.” I blinked, but with my stomach full, the exhaustion was coming back. I was sitting here mostly asleep.
Except, my stomach was rumbling again, and there was the scratchy sound of the plate sliding across the counter.
So, I ate.
And when that one was gone, another one came.
And another.
I didn’t know how much time had passed or how many plates I’d eaten, and I really didn’t care.
My eyes grew droopy. I pushed whatever was in front of me away and put my head on the counter.
A second later, I was weightless. Safe. Warm.
“Thank you,” I muttered to whatever was making me feel this way.
“You’re welcome.” Something warm pressed against my forehead. “Sleep.” The word was sweet and soft and full of a kind of hope that I’d never felt before. There was peace to it. A peace that washed away the evil, oily feeling on my skin. When the warmth was leaving, I reached out, grabbing onto something. Someone.
“Stay. Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
The world tipped and tilted, and then the warmth was back. So, I surrendered to sleep, trusting that everything would be okay when I woke up.
Please, don’t let me be wrong.