Chapter 7
SEVEN
CALLAHAN
Cornubia Hall is quiet. Everyone asleep but me.
And her.
I stand straight and stare at the wall ahead of me. Lanz tried to talk me out of it, to swap shifts with him, told me that I was probably too tired after driving all night. Kai even agreed with him, but I told them both it was fine.
If anything, I'm too awake. I don't think I could lie down and sleep now if I tried.
She's here. She's back.
The whole drive home, I just felt so aware of her in the back seat, even without saying anything or being able to see her, no matter how often I glanced back in the rearview.
It was bad enough when we knew what kind of place she'd gone to. Worse when we showed up.
And then for Moroslav to be there…
I tighten my fists, straighten my back.
All in the name of the quest. Of duty. I would do it no matter what, whatever is needed.
But I also just needed to know for my own self, my own peace of mind, that she's okay.
That's why I'll stand here. Even if my knees lock and my eyes get sandy, I will stay awake and I will keep watch. For as long as it takes.
Inside Morgan's suite, I hear soft shuffling sounds, the scrape and clink of dishware, padding footsteps.
I focus my gaze harder, not wanting to eavesdrop.
None of my business. And I need to pay attention to what's going on out here.
The odds of a troop of Russians storming in with swords drawn are low.
But we can't risk it. The dagger strapped around my calf is testament to that.
More footsteps. The soft close of a door. A pause, then the rush of falling water. The shower.
Gwenna's clothes are here, I know, and I think back to that first day she came to Camlann house, when I had to show her around, acting like a goddamn idiot.
Only a few months ago, and it feels like a lifetime away.
I tip my head back so it's resting on the wall and stare at the ceiling for a moment. Behind me, pipes squeal and squeak, and the rushing sound rises and falls, shifts along with the scrape of shower curtain rings on metal.
I swallow hard.
How long can we keep any of this up? How long will we have to?
No one really knows what the next step is or what there is for us to do besides, obviously, keeping her safe. And that means 24-7: four of us, six-hour shifts. Indefinitely. Forever.
I let my eyes flutter shut just briefly and listen to the rushing water sounds. I don’t want to sleep, but it’s a nice sound. Soothing, comforting, steady.
Then a thud. A thump. A series of loud sounds.
I jerk back up to standing, completely awake. Was that…could someone get in? I don't know what the suites in here look like, if there are windows or points of ingress. Stupid. Should have looked. Like staring at the door all night was going to be enough.
I swear under my breath and listen intently, but there's nothing else. And that somehow strikes a darker fear into my heart.
“Gwenna?” I ask, softly enough that I won't wake the rest of the hall. No response.
“Gwenna?” I cry—louder now, as I spin to face the door.
Still nothing.
I turn the knob, but it's locked. In a split second, I make a choice. One step back, shoulder forward, I grit my teeth and slam through, cracking the door off its hinges slightly and sending the lock spinning askew.
But I'm in. I look left, right, listen for sounds.
To the right is a closed door, near the wall to the hallway where I could hear the shower running. Another softer thump.
“Gwenna!” No longer a question.
All I can see are terrible images: hands clamped on her mouth, arms wrenched behind her back, and I don't like it. Instinct takes over my sense, my training, and I slam open the bathroom door, dagger drawn, but there's no one.
No one except her, collapsed in a heap in the tub, streaming water beating down on her.
Naked.
My eyes go wide. Oh God. I gulp. She's not moving. Is she—
I drop the weapon and fly to the edge of the tub, crouching, cradling her head and searching for blood.
There’s none.
Her eyes flutter open.
“Cal?” she says. She shakes her head, blinking. Dark, wet strands of hair are plastered around her face and to her neck, and her lips are pale. “I must have… I slipped,” she whispers.
“You're okay,” I say, rasping. “I've got you.”
Relief is the first feeling I feel—that she's not hurt, or not seriously. There's no one attacking her. There's no threat.
But then, heat crawls from my collar up my neck to my face.
She’s close. So close I can feel her trembling—from cold or shock or exhaustion, I don’t know.
But I won’t look, I can't look, even as I let go of her head and brace under her arms to help her up, her shaking fingers clutching my biceps as rivulets of water stream from the ends of her hair.
Her skin is cold under my hands despite the heat of the shower, and I take one step into the tub for better balance, pressing my back against the wall so that she can brace properly.
“Thanks.” She pants, catching her breath. Around us, the bathroom is now thick with steam, everything softened and blurred, the air heady and the mirror fully fogged.
“Callahan.”
I snap to attention. Gwenna nods down. “You're getting all wet.”
I look down at the end of my coat, my pant leg, my shoe, now soaked from the torrent of shower water. I hadn't even noticed.
“It's fine,” I mutter. “Are you—?”
“I'm okay.” She lifts her right hand to press her forehead. “I think I'm just…weak and tired.”
“Mhm.” I'm still supporting her body weight a little, still touching her slick flesh with my own bare hands, and I have to tighten every fiber of my muscle not to let my fingers shake against her.
She is here before me, naked, and so…
So fascinating.
I've never been around a naked woman before. I didn’t think I ever would be.
And it's…
I don't know what it is. I don’t have good words for it.
Overwhelming. Intriguing. And in spite of what I know about myself and what I have to do and what I cannot do…I do want to.
To look. To explore. To discover.
“Let me go,” Gwenna says, not sharply, not exactly, but with enough firmness that my throat catches.
I move without even having to think. “Yes. Of course.” I avert my gaze further from the top of her head to the floor of Morgan's bathroom, lean my weight out of the tub, and extract myself from it, removing support only when it's clear she can hold herself up.
Head still bowed, I grab for a hanging towel and hold it aloft in both hands, still keeping my eyes trained on the wall opposite the shower.
I feel the fabric tugged from my grip as Gwenna takes it, the soft sounds of her wrapping it around her body, a spattering of drops as she squeezes her hair dry.
“I'm decent,” comes her voice, an edge of humor somehow lacing its way in.
I relax a little, turn toward her. At first, I meet her eyes, wide and green, but no—immediately I know that's too much. I look down lower, to her collarbone, but that's somehow worse. The pale skin, with faded freckles and beads of water glazing the skin.
So I end up looking at the ceiling.
I feel the blush color my cheeks, knowing I must look ridiculous.
“Is that yours?”
I glance back down to see what Gwenna means. The dagger, lying askew in the rumpled bath mat.
“Yes.” My ears burn as I stoop to pick it up, slide it back into the holster before I stand again. “I thought…I thought maybe you were in danger.”
“I see.” From the corner of my eye, I see her nod, tuck a damp strand behind her ear. “Well, I’m…going to go to bed now.”
I am looking at the ceiling. I am looking at the ceiling. I nod.
“Right. Of course.”
She makes a kind of murmuring sound but doesn't move.
“You don't have to…” she starts, then shakes her head. “Never mind.”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says. “I…thank you for rescuing me, but I promise you I'm fine. I'm just gonna go lie down in a bed. You don't need to come back in.”
“Okay.” Now all I can think about is her lying in a bed. But I just nod, and clasp my hands behind my back, gesturing for her to leave first. She does, holding the towel up at her sternum. Meanwhile, my own shirt clings to my chest, cold now, and I peel the wet fabric away from my skin.
“Sorry,” I call after her. Sorry for what? I don’t know. “I…hope you sleep well.”
Nothing. Then:
“Me too,” she calls back.
Second pass before I realize the water is still running. I reach past the curtain and turn it off, and just like that, Cornubia Hall is quiet again.
But now the quiet is deafening.