Where Winter Finds You

by J. R. Ward

  Down his throat.

  Air. Being actively forced into his lungs.

  There was a pinch on the back of his hand. An IV.

  In confusion, he looked up and saw Ehlena. “Am I really that bad?” he asked.

  Rehv’s shellan didn’t stop to answer him. Or maybe he’d done another one of his not-really-made-it’s with the words. Either way, she was giving him a shot of something, and abruptly, his head cleared a little. It was a false reconnoitering, however, short-lived and insubstantial.

  As he began to lose consciousness, he forced his eyes to focus on Therese.

  When he had looked into her face back in that fire, he had known what he had seen: A soul crossing the divide of death, returning to him. And not just because she looked like the one he had lost.

  Because she was Selena. And Therese. At the same time.

  Somehow, Xhex had known this.

  Somehow, he had sensed this all along.

  And more than that, his love had called unto him for help. From out of the depths of his migraine, and the strange, phased-out sleeping he often had with those headaches, she had come to him in that vision that was of another realm, pleading to him that she needed to be saved.

  “She’s coding!” Jane yelled. “V, get those paddles on her.”

  Oh, God, he had been too late, he thought with despair as he lost his hold on the present catastrophe and sank deep into an abyss that offered no respite from his fears or his sorrow.

  * * *

  Bumpy.

  Bumpy, bump, bump… bumpy. Then smooth. Perfectly smooth. And finally, there was a sudden decline, the mobile unit tilting forward onto its front wheels—

  Trez gasped and jerked upright. Disoriented and in a panic, he flailed at the stuff on his face—

  Tohr captured his hands, the Brother’s deep blue eyes grave. “No, leave that on. You need it.”

  As Trez looked at the treatment table in a panic, Tohr put his face in the way. “She’s still with us. They’re just working on her.”

  Trez tried to stand up off the mobile surgical unit’s floor, thinking he could help—in spite of the fact that he had no medical training and was totally compromised physically. Fortunately, Tohr gently yet firmly kept him where he was.

  “You don’t want to get in the way.” The Brother shook his head. “You want to stay right here. And as soon as we come to a stop, I need to get you out fast. Okay? It’s going to move really quick the second we pull up. Do we understand each other?”

  Trez started to hyperventilate. But he nodded.

  And it happened exactly as the Brother said. The descent ended, the mobile unit stopped, and the doors were opened. Eager to be more than an inanimate object, Trez tried to shuffle out the back, but Tohr was the one who actually moved him, the Brother scooping him up and rushing him forward as Zsadist and Qhuinn ran a gurney to the RV.

  With Tohr gunning for the training center’s entrance, Trez wanted to see whether Therese was okay—he knew the answer to that question, though, didn’t he—whether they were getting her out of the—

  His brain was making no sense, his thoughts like pennies spilled on a hardwood floor, spinning all willy-nilly before falling down in random disorder. And then the next thing he knew, he was in an exam room, on a table. Determined to get with the program, he lifted his hand up to reasonably remove the mask so he could communicate better.

  He didn’t recognize his forearm or what was attached to it. Everything was blackened with smoke, and he had some burns on him, although when that had happened, he had no clue. Looking up, as if Tohr, who had not been with him, could explain anything, he found the Brother taking off his leather jacket with hands that shook.

  Tohr was normal. As in not sooted up the fuck, but he was pale and it wasn’t just his extremities that were shaking. His whole body was on vibrate, a phone on silent waiting to be answered.

  As Trez nixed his mask, he realized he was connected to the Brother by thin tubing, him with the breathing apparatus, Tohr with the tank.

  “This should be with Therese,” Trez said in a raspy voice.

  “No, they have her on a big tank now.”

  “That’s my shellan, and I need to get intohelpherfeedingfeedingneedstohappen—”

  “Shh.” Tohr put his palms out. “It’s going to be all right. Put the mask back on until someone can check you out.”

  Even though Trez was like a soda bottle with the cap cracked, all kinds of words rushing to get out around the too-small seal of his mouth, he recognized that if he wanted to be taken seriously, he needed to pull it together.

  “She needs to feed,” he said in a more even tone. “And I don’t want anyone else doing it.”

  “They’re working on her.”

  “Then she’s not dead yet and she needs me.” Trez grabbed the Brother’s arm. “If that was your shellan, who you could help with your vein, would you want to be stuck in here?”

  The Brother blanched. “You’re not well.”

  “Maybe. But can you argue for even a second that she’s not so much worse off?”

  There was some cursing on the Brother’s side, low and nasty. “Stay here.”

  Tohr put the oxygen tank on the floor next to the exam table and Trez resumed breathing through the mask, not because he was worried about himself, but because he was anticipating the need to give Selena the very best blood he could.

  When the Brother didn’t immediately come back, Trez got anxious. And then terrified. He imagined the medical staff doing chest compressions and shouting demands for more meds across Therese’s lifeless body—

  Before he was aware of deciding to move, his body slid off the table and stood on its own—and as something didn’t feel right, he looked down. He’d lost one of his loafers. Who knew when or where.

  Limping over to the door, he opened it and looked out.

  Down on the left, Tohr was arguing with someone. Vishous. And their voices were low and intense.

  “He’s half dead,” V hissed.

  “What’s it going to hurt? He probably thinks it’s Selena. Everyone says they look alike—”

  They both stopped talking and stared at Trez.

  “Come on,” Tohr said, “I’ll take you in.”

  V threw up an f-bomb and went for his Turkish tobacco, the rest of his curses staying mostly under his breath.

  But Tohr held out his hand, and Trez went to the Brother. Linking his palm with the other male’s, as if he were a young, as if he needed guidance—because he did—Trez allowed himself to be drawn into the treatment room next door.

  It was the same one.

  The same one Selena had died in before.

  On the table, under the medical chandelier, Therese was lying under a sheet. Tubes were going in and out of her, fluids pumped in, fluids pumped out, and there was a stand of monitoring machines by her head. Dr. Manello and Doc Jane were speaking softly and quickly by her feet. Ehlena was at the ready with a crash cart.

  Doc Jane looked up. “What is he doing in here—”

  Therese moaned on the table, and Dr. Manello said, “Heart rate is getting stronger. Blood pressure normalizing.”

  Doc Jane glanced at her patient. Looked back at Trez. “Come closer.”

  Trez limped over, and Therese turned her face to him, even though her eyes remained closed.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “Heart rate stabilizing. Blood pressure continuing to improve.”

  “Get him a chair,” Doc Jane barked. “Before he falls over.”

  When something hit the back of his legs, Trez let himself go down. He wanted to take his female’s hand, but he remembered when they had been in the corridor, in the fire. It had hurt her.

  “Take from me,” he said urgently. Bringing his wrist up, he struck his own vein with his fangs. “Take my strength.”

  As he held the puncture wounds over her mouth, Dr. Manello said something sharply, as if he did not approve. But then a drop of blood fell on Theres
e’s mouth and she moaned. After which, her lips parted, and her head lifted ever so slightly.

  Trez put his wrist right down. “Take from me, my queen. And come back.”

  He worried she wouldn’t be able to do it, but then she latched on and took from him, even in her compromised state. And as he watched her neck work as she swallowed, his eyes watered. He had been here before with her. He had done this before, and he had lost her.

  Not this time, though.

  This time… he had won the fight.

  Therese would survive, and they would be together, and he was going to accept the complex truth that all was as it should be, even though it defied logic and explanation.

  But that was kind of what true love was, wasn’t it. Against all odds and probability, two souls could indeed find each other in the soup of time and humanity, and forge a trail to walk along, hand in hand, forevermore.

  It made him think of an old proverb:

  Blessed are those who believe in all that two hearts aligned achieve. For once united, no matter where winter finds them, they will always be warm.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Female: Her vitals are stable.

  Male: What about the pain?

  Female: I’m still worried about her breathing. She’s too close to the edge.

  The back-and-forth voices were close by, but from behind Therese’s closed lids, she couldn’t exactly place them. Were they in front of her? To the side? Behind? And what was the beeping. There was incessant beeping.

  Some kind of fear, transient yet persistent, dogged her, but as with the voices, she couldn’t place its source. She knew only of its existence. And what were they saying about pain? She felt nothing. Were they talking about someone else?

  No, wait. She did feel something. As she swallowed, her throat was sore.

  And she could taste. Dear Lord, could she taste… there was the most incredible dark wine in her mouth, and down the back of her throat, and deep within her gut. It was a source of warmth, of strength, like a banked hearth—

  Therese’s eyes flipped open, and as she gasped, three heads leaned over her. A male and a female she did not recognize—the voices, probably? Because they were in doctor garb—and then—

  “Trez,” she croaked.

  As she lifted her hand, the male she wanted to see above all else captured her palm in the gentlest of holds.

  “I’m right here,” he said roughly. “I’m right with you.”

  Yes, she thought. He always had been with her. Even though… well, he didn’t look so hot. His face was an unnatural red, and he had one eyebrow singed, and a section of his hair was missing—

  Something was on fire, she thought. She could smell the smoke.

  Therese opened her mouth to say something, but abruptly she became distracted by the bandages that ran up her forearms. Lifting her head, she looked down at her body. She was wound up with white bands from collarbone to ankle.

  That was when the pain registered. Except how was it possible that every square inch of her body hurt? And there was heat, too, not like the sustaining, sultry engine of life in her belly, but a burning—

  Fire. She’d been in a fire. In her rooming house.

  As with the sensation in her body, memory came back in a rush that nearly knocked her unconscious, so great was the barrage of images, sounds, smells. She remembered everything, from the scent of something burning right before the explosion, to the blasts, to the flames and the smoke along the corridor. She recalled trying to douse the fire out on that female with the slipcover and then something swinging down on her from the ceiling. Then the crawl on the filthy runner and her trying to get to safety. She remembered going as far as she could to get herself away from the heat, but it had not been fast enough. Far enough.

  Her skin had burned. All over her body.

  That was the reason she was bandaged.

  And she was here in this hospital because Trez had gotten her out.

  Therese sought his face, while, off in the distance, alarms sounded. Still, she met his gleaming black eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said. “For saving me.”

  The doctors were talking fast again, but she couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying. It was all she could do to speak what she needed to to Trez. With her pain level shooting up as high as it was, the sensations ricocheting around her body, in her skull, were so dominant that she felt like she was shouting through a concrete wall.

  But she had to let him know.

  “My queen,” he whispered, “I would never have left you there.”

  Strange, but it seemed completely normal for him to say such a thing. My queen—

  That was when the other half of it all came to her. The female in the white robe emerging from the smoke, seeking her out… because that was her, in a different form, in a different life.

  Abruptly, over the shoulder of the Shadow, Therese saw someone standing in the corner of the hospital room. At first, she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but then… it was herself. Again. Just as it had been in the burning hallway.

  She was staring at herself staring at herself.

  As Therese smiled, the female—the other version of her—smiled back.

  All will be well, the vision mouthed. All is as it should be.

  “This should help the pain,” someone said.

  Therese looked at the person who spoke. Just as she was going to ask what they had given her, a cooling entered her body, coursing through her veins, calming the raucous firing of so many nerves.

  Shuddering in relief, she was able to focus better on Trez.

  “How did you know I needed you?” she breathed.

  “Because you told me.”

  Therese looked back at the ghost of herself, still hovering in the corner.

  “Yes,” she whispered, “I must have.”

  The ghost of her raised a hand and waved… before slowly dissipating, as if her job was done. And then where she had been standing, someone else took her place, like an existential baton had been passed and only one could inhabit the space. It was an angel. An angel with gossamer wings, and blond and black hair, and gold rings around his throat and his wrists.

  Part of her wanted to dismiss all of it as the product of some really good drugs. But she knew this was real. How else could a miracle like this be explained? Yes, it was all as it was supposed to be. She had been gone for a while, but now she was back where she needed to be, with Trez.

  The angel smiled at her. She smiled back at him.

  “Do you see him?” she whispered to Trez. “The angel…?”

  “Shh, don’t talk. Save your strength.”

  Funny, that’s what she’d said to her mahmen.

  Refocusing on Trez, she studied his face. “I am the one you lost. I don’t know how that is possible, but I lost you and now I’m back. And I love you.”

  Abruptly, there was total silence all around her—and not because she had died. All of the medical staff, and the other people in the room, froze where they stood and stared at her, at Trez.

  “The fire,” she said. “I saw myself in the fire in a white robe. And then there you were.”

  “I saw you in the fire, too,” he explained. “You came to me out of the funeral pyre. You…”

  With a jerk of his head, Trez looked to the angel. Then everyone looked at the angel.

  As if he had been waiting for the group’s attention, beneficent illumination emanated from the heavenly messenger’s body, the great, warm, healing light, enveloping them all. Then the angel started to laugh.

  “Hot damn, it worked!” he said, clapping his hands and then boom!’ing his hips. “This is my first frickin’ miracle, and I rocked the shit out of it! High fives all around for me.” He smacked the air with his palms over his head. “I mean, I wasn’t sure whether it was going to work. After Selena died, I delivered her soul to those nice people’s house in Michigan. I left her on the doorstep in a bassinet—I mean, come on, who doesn�
�t love a young in a basket on the doorstep at Christmas!” He swooned as if he was admiring a piece of art. “And then, after some difficulty—because, come on, even in my world, there was to be a little balance—everything works out! It’s perfect! I mean, seriously—I impressed even myself.”

  Walking over to Trez, he put his palm out, and Trez slowly raised his own. The angel made the clap happen, and then he very gingerly did the same with Therese.

  “High fives,” he whispered to her.

  Then he stepped back. “Now. I gotta go ’cuz Home Alone is about to start. It’s a marathon for eight hours, but if you miss the pizza scene in the beginning you really can’t get Kevin’s motivation right. Plus, hello, Fuller’s a bed-wetter, so you get why Kevin has to go to the attic—”

  The angel stopped and looked around at all the dumbfounded faces.

  “Are you guys keeping up here?” When there was no collective response, he pshaw’d them all. “S’okay, I know you’re in awe of my greatness. I get it. Happens all the time. Anyway, you guys talk amongst yourselves, but she’s going to be fine and he’s going to be fine, and Merry fucking Christmas. Just call me Lassi-claus!” Turning away, he made like he was going to walk through the wall to disappear, but then he turned back and lifted his forefinger. “Yeeeeeeah, so one thing. I’m afraid we’re going to have to forget about this little behind-the-scenes revelation just now, m’kay? The rules say I have to tidy up after myself, so none of you can technically know about the particulars. I’ll just stipulate that you’re so grateful, you can’t contain yourself, and listen—if you feel the need to buy me really expensive gifts for under the tree? Don’t fight it. I like animal prints, the color pink—I’m a forty-four long in pants and you can forget shirts ’cuz I work out.”

  Abruptly, he grew serious as he looked at Trez and Therese. Then he smiled, wistfully. “I’m a sucker for true love, what can I say. I only wish I could fix everyone’s problems like this.”

  With a fetching wink and sashay, he abruptly disapp—

  EPILOGUE