Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
I panted heavily as I slowly pushed open the screen door with a creak, which took some effort, because it suddenly felt as heavy as lead. I’d exhausted myself completely, and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of me.
Somehow, I’d managed to get up off the porch after coming to—I was pretty sure it had only been a few seconds, but it had felt like an age—and grab onto the railing, assuring my friends, my mother, and Phillip, who had all come running, that I was okay. But I’d felt the rising sense of panic in my chest, the tingling in my face, the numbness of my lips, and knew that a panic attack was coming; a doozy. I’d held onto Jamie’s outstretched arm for balance, ignoring Clara’s smirking smile as she still stood in the corner, and assured everyone that I was fine, that I just needed a quick minute.
Phillip had insisted he should join me in the trailer, but I’d shaken my head and stopped him with a small smile. “No. You enjoy the party. I just want to splash some water on my face, and I’ll be right back out. I’m okay, I promise.”
He’d reluctantly let me go in alone, but he’d stayed on the porch, standing beside Clara, his face a thundercloud. I’d excused myself to the bathroom, where I splashed cool water on my cheeks and stared at my reflection, noting that my dark, dramatic wedding makeup was smeared around my eyes and mouth.
Then I’d thrown up.
Gripping the sides of the sink, I’d taken deep, gulping breaths and sobbed my way through the next few minutes. It was too much, and it had all come rushing back at once—and now, on what should be the happiest day of my life, Sloan back to wreak havoc. How much more could I take? How much more would I be forced to endure before Phillip and I could just have a normal life?
Your lives will never be normal, a small, unidentified voice said in my head, and I shuddered.
I’d managed to collect myself enough to head back outside, to reassure everyone that I was okay. Phillip, still on the porch, immediately rushed to my side, cradling me in his arms, his flashing green eyes suggesting he didn’t believe a word I was saying. But thankfully, he was quiet. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin our wedding reception. We deserved this one good thing. I resolved to put my panic behind me and just enjoy.
“You sure you’re okay?” Phillip asked in a low voice, holding tight to my arm.
“Yes,” I said and took a step forward. Then I passed out again.
I woke up in a hospital bed, and I was pissed.
“Who brought me here?” I demanded before I’d even fully gained consciousness.
Benny, sitting across from me, looked at me calmly, a book in his lap, one leg propped over the other. “Well, good morning to you, princess,” he said with a grin.
“Why am I here?” I repeated, irritated at the term of endearment. Sloan had called me that too, and too recently. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” Benny answered, reaching forward to pat my knee. “You just like…took a step forward and sunk to the ground. Hit your head pretty hard. Phillip was terrified; I thought he was going to rip the trailer apart with his bare hands trying to find a phone to call 911.”
“Why am I here, though?” I asked again, glaring at him. My mouth tasted terrible, my tongue fuzzy and thick. “You could have just fixed me, couldn’t you? You’ve done it before! I thought we didn’t involve…people…when we didn’t have to!”
“I can’t bring people back from the dead; that’s your thing,” Benny said calmly, putting his book down on my bedside table and sitting up to his full posture. He had put his one white contact in for the first time in a long while, and his eyes almost seemed to dance. “This is the second time you’ve had a bad head injury in a few days; it’s not the kind of thing you leave to chance. You could be concussed, Stormy. Again.” His voice had taken on the tone of an exasperated teacher, and I resented it. “Plus…well, we wanted to get you away from the Wolfden for a bit. Just to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?” Was my pounding head making me confused, or did he not make a lick of sense? “What the fuck is going on?”
“If you’ll stop bitching at me for a second, I’ll tell you.” Benny laughed. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Stormy…Clara is gone. She got away.” He sighed. “Not that we were like, holding her, exactly, but …we were just keeping eyes on her. You know. Because…because…”
“Because she’s working with Sloan,” I finished for him. “Whatever that means.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Up to no good, basically. She left during all the confusion when Phillip was calling 911. Just got in her car and drove off without a word to anybody.”
“How did you guys let that happen?” I demanded, and he winced. No doubt he’d been asking himself the same question.
“I thought I could trust her,” he said simply, and the sadness was evident on his face. My heart went out to him.
“I should have dealt with her when I had the chance,” I said fiercely, and Benny shook his head.
“Your magic is strong, but Clara is stronger,” he said, and I vowed then and there to prove him wrong one day. “You couldn’t have fought her off. Besides, she hasn’t technically done anything to you. We don’t know if she’s involved in…in anything.”
“How did they get away?” I asked. “Jamie was watching her! And I couldn’t have been out for more than a couple minutes! What the hell happened?”
“It was my fault,” a voice said miserably from the corner, and I turned, realizing that Roberta had been in the room the whole time. She came over to the bed and took my hand in her own clammy one. “When you went inside, I called Jamie over to dance. We got to making out, and…well, I distracted him. I’m so sorry.”
Despite my fury, I couldn’t help but smile a little at that. Jamie and Roberta. A pairing I wholeheartedly approved of. “You guys were off boning and Clara got away? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Her face flushed crimson, and she bit her lip, her eyes pleading with mine for forgiveness. “We weren’t boning! Just dancing…and well, kissing. It was such a festive, fun night…I drank a bunch of that punch. I guess I let it go to my head. I’m sorry, Stormy!”
I winked, giving her hand a squeeze. I couldn’t be angry at her. Not at Roberta. Besides, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Clara was a free agent, and we couldn’t exactly hold her hostage just because she was a bitch with shitty taste in friends. Benny was right; she hadn’t exactly done anything to me, had she?
“So how do we find her?” I asked just as Phillip entered the room clutching potted flowers. He held them out to me and I smiled, pressing the delicate black petals to my nose to discover their scent. Only Phillip Deville would find me a live plant—black pansies, to boot—to bring me in the hospital.
He leaned down and gave me a tender kiss on the forehead, taking the plant and placing it on my bedside table. His long fingers brushed a tendril of hair from my face. “You’re not finding anyone,” he said firmly, his mouth closed in a tight-lipped expression. “Your only job right now is to get better.”“But Sloan could be—" I began, and he silenced me with a look. “Clara…”
“We’ll worry about her later,” he said, his eyes boring into mine, quieting me. He meant business. “Your one and only job is to recover, get well, and go on our honeymoon.” Then he grinned. “Well, I guess that’s three jobs.”
“What honeymoon?” I asked him, surprised. Phillip and I hadn’t talked about a honeymoon. I’d just assumed we’d plan one later, if at all. Neither of us really stood much on ceremony, and we’d done so much traveling lately, it just hadn’t seemed important.
He busied himself fluffing the pillows behind me, then bent over me, a sly smile on his lips. “Get yourself better and you might just find out, Spooner,” was all he would say.