by Nancy Gideon
Cale turned slowly to look at him. In the darkness, his eyes shone. A faint smile. “I’m not gonna make it.”
“Where? Not going to make it where?” Silas scowled, his eyes followed the downward drop of Cale’s gaze to where his palm pressed just above the waistband of his jeans.
“To tomorrow.”
That’s when Silas noticed the dark stain creeping between his fingers.
“Shit. Oh, shit!” He jerked the wheel, sending the car shuddering off onto the bumpy shoulder and Cale slumping against the dash. He wrestled the vehicle to a stop, slamming it into park so he could turn to his listlessly shifting passenger. Taking him by the shoulders, Silas leaned him back against the seat. “What the hell happened? Why didn’t you say something?”
“Just did.”
Silas reached down to check the severity of the leaking wound. It was low, below his navel, spilling more than just blood through the gaping slash held together by the spread of his fingers.
“It’s okay,” Cale whispered in a thready little voice. “I knew it was one way when I came here. Knew I wasn’t going home.”
“That’s crazy talk. Let me see.”
“No. If I move my hand every damn thing’s gonna come pouring out all over your floor. I’d never hear the end of it.”
Silas stripped out of his own jacket, balling it up, carefully slipping it under Cale’s palm as a compress. “Hold that, tight as you can. You hang on. I’ll get you to Bree.”
“No. No.” His head rolled from side to side in weak protest. “Been drugged. Can’t risk her baby. I won’t.”
Realizing the truth of what he said, Silas leaned back in his seat, thoughts tumbling frantically as he calculated possible damage. Liver, kidneys, diaphragm, stomach, blood vessels. Intestines, obviously. “I’ll take you to Susanna.”
“Okay. Better hurry.” He slumped, falling forward onto the steering wheel. The horn went off like a weather alert.
Silas struggled to get him lying down, head in his lap, shoulders propped against his thigh. “Get your feet up. Up.”
Groaning, Cale lifted them one at a time so the soles of his boots pushed against the top of the window frame. After slamming the vehicle in gear, Silas put his right hand over Cale’s to keep the pressure tight, saying, “Don’t you die on me. Don’t you make me tell her I killed you, you son of a bitch.”
A hoarse laugh. “That would be inconvenient of me.” He broke off with a moan.
“Be still. You’ll make it.”
“I’m tired, Silas. So tired.”
“It’s the blood loss and shock. Stay quiet.”
Cale started panting. Quick, short bursts gasped from him. “I need you to tell her the truth so she’ll understand, so she won’t mourn me.”
Something in the sound of that spooked him. “Don’t talk.”
“Doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters except her. Make sure she’s okay. Do that for me, Silas, please.”
“You know I will.”
“Tell her I love her.”
“She knows that.”
“Have my brothers take me home.”
“You can take your own damn self home once we’re finished here,” MacCreedy told him angrily, navigating back into the tight grid of streets in the Quarter.
A trickling laugh. “I am finished here. Don’t let her stand alone while they burn me. Don’t let her stand alone.”
“I won’t.” That twisted from him as he heard Cale’s boot heels rattling a tattoo against the glass as his legs shook. “You hang on. Hang on. We’re almost there.”
Everything went so still Silas risked a glance down, terrified by what he was afraid to see. But Cale’s features were serene, his smile small. His gaze lifted to meet Silas’s as he admitted, “I always wanted to be just like you.”
“Like what? A cold, heartless bastard who cares more about causes than the family he loves?”
“You were my hero. Not my father. It was you I looked up to.” A long, deep sigh. “Thanks for putting up with me.”
Silence.
“Cale?” He whipped the vehicle into the Towers’ parking structure. “We’re here. Cale?” Angling the car in front of the elevator, he put it in park. “Let’s get you inside.”
Cale’s eyes had closed.
“No. Dammit, no!” Silas’s bloody hand went to his face, checking for breath, feeling for a pulse. Finding neither. “Not like this.”
He lunged out the driver’s side and raced around the vehicle, catching Cale’s feet as he opened the door, maneuvering his slack form as carefully as possible until he was clutched up to his chest. Running for the elevator.
“Don’t you dare say something like that then just check out. Don’t you leave me with that, you selfish bastard.” He jabbed at the button, all too aware of how boneless Cale seemed. Refusing to accept what else he might be. Refusing to think at all as the elevator rose to the eleventh floor.
He pounded awkwardly on LaRoche’s door, his fist leaving vivid smears on the heavy panel. It opened almost immediately, revealing a little girl with huge blue eyes. Showing no alarm, she gestured to the couch, saying softly, “Put him down there,” as if they’d been expected.
“Pearl, get your mom.”
“She’s not here. She’s up at Max’s.”
Silas settled the motionless figure on the cushions, trying to shield the child from the gruesome truth of his injury. “Go get her. Hurry.”
“I can’t, Mr. MacCreedy,” Pearl told him somberly. “I’m not supposed to leave the apartment by myself.” She went to her knees beside the couch, taking up Cale’s bloody hand. “I’ll stay with him. We’re friends.”
Silas wasted no time arguing. He ran, barely remembering to close the door behind him.
Pearl put a small hand to the still features and whispered, “We’re friends, aren’t we, Cale?” Untroubled by the lack of response, she calmly lifted his soaked shirt away from the gaping wound, observing the mortal damage without any display of emotion as she continued to speak to him.
“I’m sorry I scared you when I told you about your brothers. They’re here now. Can you see them? Do you want to go with them? It’s all right if you want to. I know you’re sick, hurt, and tired.”
As carefully as she could, Pearl scooped what was outside back inside where it belonged, telling him, “But if you go, you’ll be missing out on some wonderful things. They’ll need you, Cale. They’ll both need you.” She paused for a moment, studying his ashen face. With a small smile, she looked up to address the empty space beside her.
“Not yet. He has things to do.”
*
Silas threw open the door and stepped back so Susanna could rush in ahead of him. He was in no hurry now. He’d done all he could do and in the wretched heart of him, knew it wouldn’t matter. Cale Terriot was dead. Had died declaring him his hero. One last cruel joke as he left this world.
“I don’t understand,” Susanna murmured from where she knelt beside the couch. “Where was he wounded?”
Brows lowering, Silas crossed to her. She was a doctor! How the hell could she miss a spill of intestines? He drew up, puzzled, stunned as he stared at the bared abdomen. Lots of blood but no sign of injury other than a faint white scar.
“I don’t understand,” he echoed. “He was gutted, dying. No. Dead. He was dead. He died in the car before I could—”
Susanna placed her hand over his. “You were confused.”
Silas squatted down so he was level with the child who now held Cale’s head in her lap. “You saw how bad it was. You know there was no way in—”
Just then, Cale Terriot took a huge breath. His gaze flashed open and about, eager than increasingly anxious.
“It’s okay,” Pearl told him quietly, her small hand stroking his brow. “You’re okay now.”
“They were here,” he babbled in confusion. “Right here. Where did they go? They left without me. Why did they leave?”
“Because you needed to stay
,” she explained with a smile. “They understood. You’ll see them again.”
“The others?” he whispered. “Did they come for me, too?”
“No.” That answer calmed him immediately.
Susanna bent close. “Cale? Do you know where you are?” When he shook his head slightly, she asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“Susanna. LaRoche’s mate.”
“That’s right. How do you feel?”
“Okay. How’d I get here?”
Silas knelt down. “I brought you, remember?”
He frowned slightly, shaking his head.
“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”
“Katy? Is she here? Katy?”
Silas pressed him down when he tried to sit up. “I called her a minute ago. I better give her a ring back to let her know she doesn’t have to rush. You rest until she gets here.”
“Okay. Thanks.” His eyes closed and didn’t reopen.
Silas’s attention was on the little girl whose hand still rested on Cale’s damp hair. “You did this.”
Because it wasn’t a question, Susanna pulled him away. “She didn’t do anything. You must have misjudged the injury.”
“I know what I saw, and I know what he was. Your daughter changed both those things.”
“She’s a child. How could you think that’s possible?” A shaky fear lay behind her curt demand.
Silas put a calming hand on her arm, looking back at the two of them on the couch. “Because my sister can do those things. She started when she was younger than that.” He turned to see the doctor’s face pale. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I know the danger in being different.”
Susanna studied his face finally nodding. “Sounds like more company is coming. I guess I should put on some coffee.”
*
Even after receiving Silas’s phone call, Kendra refused to believe it until she saw for herself that Cale was alive.
The drive from the River Road estate took forever along rain swept streets. With Giles at the wheel and an anxious Brigit constantly glancing over the seat back to see how she was coping, Kendra clung to two words like an anxious climber to the crumbling edge of a cliff.
“He’s okay.”
Please make that true. Please make that true!
Suddenly, she gasped aloud.
“Kendra?” Bree called back worriedly. “What’s wrong? Sweetie, what’s the matter?”
Face wet with tears, she shook her head, unable to answer.
Eyes closed, she reached out a second time, calming her heart beats until a faint touch stroked over her consciousness. Comforting warmth twined about her, seeping in to smother worries and fear. Just a hint of familiar scent teased about her senses, but it was enough to tell her what she needed to know.
She hadn’t lost him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Have you heard from Cale? Is he here?”
Alain Babineau blinked out into the darkness at the sight of Colin Terriot on his porch. “No. And no.”
The detective left a six pack behind hours ago to start seriously down a bottle of Jack so was slow to catch the concern in the big Shifter’s voice. Not that Colin gave much away.
“Kendra called freaked out of her mind about something. I told her I’d see if I could find him.”
Babineau scrubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up his dulled wits. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”
His visitor wouldn’t leave. “Any idea where he might go?”
“He’s your brother.”
“This is your city.”
“It’s not like we ever partied together. Except for that time in Algiers.” He paused to think. Or try to. “He wouldn’t go back there, would he?”
“Hard to say what he’d do these days.” Colin hunched his shoulders against the wind-driven rain. “Can I come in a sec, or would it disturb your family?”
“They’re not here,” he muttered. The reason for his muddled brain. He pushed the door open. “Yeah. Why not?” He stumbled back and waited for his guest to pass before shutting the door behind him. His mood soured as he watched the Terriot prince assess his humble home. “Probably not what you’re used to.”
“You have no idea what I’m used to.” With that flat remark, Colin moved into the living room, pausing at the entertainment system to lift the portrait of a dark-haired woman. “This her?”
“Your sister? Yes. You haven’t met her?”
“Not yet. She’s beautiful,” he mused with a slight smile. “I like the boy. A nice family. You must be proud.”
“Yeah, a regular flag waver.”
The moment of softness disappeared. A hard edge returned to his company. “I kinda resent that tone.”
“I don’t think you have the right to feel one way or another about it.” Alcohol fueling his contentiousness, Alain took the picture from him to replace it sloppily on the shelf.
“You’d be wrong. Someone insults my family, they insult me. Do I look like the kind of fellow who takes that lightly?”
“I don’t care if you take it with cream and sugar. They belong to me. You’ve never even met her.”
“We share relatives. That makes her mine whether I know her or not. My clan is put together like Pick Up Sticks with all sorts of pieces crossing where they fall. If we touch in one spot anywhere along the line, we’re family.”
“Must be expensive at the holidays,” Babineau mumbled. He found his bottle and put it to his lips, only to have it confiscated.
“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.” Colin tipped it and took the rest in two swallows. “So,” he began as he placed the empty on the coffee table, “Where, in the middle of the night, is this family that belongs to you?”
“Out at Savoie’s. He’s the boy’s brother. One of those crossing sticks you were talking about.”
Colin studied him for a beat, hoisting a brow. “That pisses you off, does it?”
Babineau scowled. “Why would it?”
“I don’t know. Why does it? They run off or something? Something to do with the way you can’t seem to find the floor with both feet?”
“What would you possibly know about losing family, seeing as how you have to wade through them to take a leak?”
“I helped release the souls of two of my brothers just before Cale took his crown. I watched my mother weep over my step-father and their two sons. I might have been able to save them but I couldn’t join them because I was one of the Twelve of the House of Terriot. My mother and step-sisters resent the fact I’m alive. I know a thing or two.”
Babineau met his unblinking stare. His misdirected animosity fell away. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass. I had no right to say that.”
“That’s okay. Our lines cross now, too. Otherwise, I’d have probably killed you.” He smiled, making his comment more, not less, menacing. “So, I’ve told you mine. Tell me yours.”
“Cale wants to make my boy his heir. I traded them for his help to settle an old score.”
This time Colin did blink. “I changed my mind. I think I will kill you.” He crossed to the well-used couch and plopped down on it. “After you tell me the rest of the story.”
“This might take another six pack.”
*
Alain Babineau’s story started with an ambitious young cop out to make an honest mark for himself within a system that offered temptations often too good to ignore. Or too dangerous.
“My daddy was a good man. He started out as a State cop over in Jefferson Parish until he got clipped by a nervous teenager during a routine traffic stop. They wanted to put him on a desk, but his back couldn’t take it. He ended up doing private security work, nights mostly, leaving me and my mama home alone. The insurance money provided enough so my mama didn’t have to work but she liked to keep busy. She started volunteering at a call center for some local police charity. She was pretty, had a great laugh and smile, could charm a gator out of a set of luggage.”
Colin caught on quick. “W
hat did she get charmed out of?”
It took a carelessly whispered comment during middle school baseball practice for Alain Babineau to find out. When he confronted his mother, she begged his forgiveness and his silence, vowing she’d made a mistake that would never happen again. Only, of course, it did, pulling a boy between the two people he loved.
“It got so I knew she was lying whenever her lips moved,” the detective said quietly. “How could I tell my daddy? We were his whole world.”
“Did the poor bastard ever find out?”
“No. He had a massive heart attack when I was a senior in high school, thinking he still had that perfect family. And there she was, crying over his coffin with her lover’s arm around her, no one the wiser but me.”
“Let me guess. End of happy family?”
“I went to the academy right out of school and never looked back. Promised myself I’d never be taken in by lies.”
Colin’s mouth curved into a cynical smile. “How long did that promise last?”
“Until my first real relationship went south. Until I got my shield and lost my illusions about the nobility that came with it. Until I found out my partner’s lover was a mobster and some kind of monster. That the woman I trusted and married and the son I wanted to call my own were the same kind of animals.”
Alain fell silent. He’d laid bare more than he’d planned and wasn’t willing to part with the rest. Not with this man he didn’t know well enough to entrust with his secrets.
“Guess you’re glad to have Cale come along to take them off your hands then.”
“Maybe,” he muttered, not looking up.
So why wasn’t he?
Mood unreadable, Colin put his second empty aside and got to his feet, still steady as a bridge abutment. Maybe he wasn’t interested in hearing that answer. Or maybe he’d reached a point where he’d become a danger to his new family member if he heard it. Either way, Alain didn’t ask him to stay. He locked up after the Terriot prince, leaving him with darkened rooms and shattered dreams.
As he lay down on the twin bed, breathing in the scent of teenage boy, the truth got too big to ignore.
How was he going to let them go?