Grim

by Thea Atkinson

  He cupped my jawline with both of his hands, the fingers sneaking in behind my hair and kneading the back of my neck. I pressed backward into the warmth of his hand, not caring that his peculiar tingling feeling had started running its way down my spine. I was just so glad to be out of there. Safe. His warm, calloused thumb whispered over the crest of my cheek where the tears had started to pool.

  "You did good," he said, pinning that green eyed gaze to mine. There was a rasp in his voice that hadn't been there before. "You did damn good."

  I nodded, not trusting my voice. I had a hard time swallowing past the clump of relief in my throat. I made small hiccuping sounds and had to hold my breath to get it under control. I didn't feel as though I'd done good. I felt like I'd just failed a very big test.

  "I'm putting her in my car," he said, peering down at me. I felt lost in his gaze but I managed to waggle my head up and down.

  "You stay here until I come back," he said.

  I didn't think I could so much as wiggle my foot.

  "I won't move." There. That came out just fine. Not terror-laden at all.

  "Good," he said. With an an ease I wouldn't have expected from a man who had just nearly choked to death, he lifted Sarah into his arms again and hitched her high against his chest. Her head rolled back against his arm.

  "She's breathing," he said, catching my eye and obviously reading the worry in my gaze. "Her heart rate is fine, so I think she's just passed out. But I think we should take her to the hospital."

  Again I nodded. I knew if I tried to speak again, I would break down.

  He was only gone for a few moments and when he came back, he knelt down in front of me and used his thumbs to tilt my chin upward as his fingers cupped the back of my neck.

  "Thank you," he said.

  For a moment I thought he wanted to say more, and the way his eyes trailed down to my mouth, I thought perhaps he was waiting for me to say something. I searched for the right words. Something that could say everything and at the same time carry the weight of all we had just been through together.

  "I told you I wasn't lying," were the ones my tongue selected.

  CHAPTER 11

  The drive to the hospital was a blur. I sat on my side of the passenger seat and stared out the window with my hands clenched between my knees. I'm sure I watched the houses go by for the seven or eight blocks it took to get to the hospital, but I don't remember seeing much that was memorable. Except the sunrise. It had reached over the tops of the trees by the time we sped the distance and was painting a flare onto the car window that made me squint. I had visions of feathers falling from the clouds and felt as though everything around me was buzzing. I was pretty sure that if there was such a thing as an aura, mine was jagged and screaming in bile yellow.

  Once, I dared to look over my shoulder at Sarah as she lay in the back seat and I noticed Callum had replaced his jacket with an old plaid blanket and had tucked two of her pillows beneath her head and one beneath her knees. When he had time to do that, I wouldn't remember. All I could think about was facing that horrible thing and failing. I had assumed I was special. I had believed I could make a difference. Now Sarah lay there unconscious. She looked incredibly pale and her chest barely rose and fell.

  There was a moment when I thought Callum was going to reach for my hand. His fingers trailed over the stick shift and rested on the side of my seat. From the corner of my eye, I could see how sooty his nails were with embedded ash and dirt from the tunnel. Each crease in the knuckles was lined in black. It was the most incredible thing I'd seen the whole night, those narrow black lines. They reminded me I was alive, and I wanted very badly to take his hand and hold it to my chest because I felt an incredible need to feel normal with good old-fashioned human contact.

  Something kept me from doing it, though. Instead, I tightened my grip on my hands with my knees. I had to remind myself that something in me didn't feel as though this guy was quite right. Except for the fact that the doppelgänger had been able to nearly kill him, I still wasn't exactly sure he was human. I didn't know who was human anymore. I certainly couldn't count on the evidence of my eyes at any rate. They had failed me when I'd gone into the tunnel and seen Sarah's hair wasn't right but hadn't bothered to question it.

  I had to use all of my senses. Now that I knew there really were monsters and bogeymen, I couldn't just rely on the simple things like sight the way everyday folk did. I had to tune my instincts and my perception of things. If I wanted to live and thrive in a world where there were things not of this world, then I had to recognize those things when I saw them. I'd start with Callum.

  I said nothing to him as he pulled the car up in front of the hospital and leapt from his side of the car and headed for the hospital doors. I said nothing when he yelled over his shoulder at me that he'd be right back, and then he tore into the front doors. Seconds later, two burly orderlies pushed out the front with a stretcher between them and a tall pole holding onto a clear plastic bag of fluid. He stood next to the paramedics as they eased her out of the car and onto the stretcher. He looked huge next to them, broad-shouldered and glowering as though he wanted to make sure they handled her correctly. For the first time, I noticed how fine his features were for such a large man and I mentally had to remind myself that he was only a few years older than me.

  It was only when I saw Sarah starting to struggle that I said anything at all. It looked like they were hurting her.

  "Leave her be," I hollered out the window at the paramedic who was holding her down and ramming something into her arm. He ignored me.

  I yanked my door open and jumped out of the car. They were already wheeling her off and I could see her fighting to get off the stretcher. She was yelling something about not being safe. Begging them to let her up.

  Despite my resolve not to speak to him until I had figured out what he was, my panicked gaze went straight to Callum. "What are they doing to her?"

  "She's going to be alright," he said, sweeping that green eyed gaze over me and making me want to shiver. "She just needs some rest. Real rest. They're giving her a sedative."

  A sedative. She'd be helpless. I started to run for the doors behind them. "They can't do that," I said.

  I felt his grip on my elbow, holding me back, spinning me around to face him. That jolt of electricity went up my arm again. It made me dizzy and I felt my knees go weak. It was worse when I looked in his eyes. They were so damned penetrating. I thought they could look right straight into the curled up balls of my mind.

  "Ayla," he murmured. "They know what they're doing. She's not well. Even you have to admit that."

  "But she doesn't feel safe."

  "But she is safe." He ran a thumb over the crease in my elbow, making the hairs stand on end. I yanked my arm away.

  "How do you know she's safe? Anything could happen to her in there."

  He looked hurt I'd pulled away from him, but that was the least of my worries. I pulled my arms across my chest, gripping the backs of my shoulders with my hands. I was having a hard time staying on my feet. Everything was swimming around me.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I'll stay here with her. I won't let anything happen to her."

  I knew he was patronizing me. Any regular person would have believed a woman was safe in the hospital. But I wasn't a regular woman anymore. Sarah wasn't either. We'd seen things. We'd fought things.

  "That thing back there –"

  "Is gone," he said. "And I doubt it's going to come back in a hospital filled with people."

  He didn't sound convinced, but I think we were both willing to believe it. I swallowed, nodding because I knew he would have to be right. She really should be checked out. I started to fish my cell phone out of my pocket to call my grandfather. The least I could do was make sure there was a place for her to go when they released her.

  "Crap," I said as I tried to tap it to life. "Dead."

  "Mine too," he said, reaching for my elbow again and this time I let him
guide me into the building. He checked with the registration nurse to find where they had taken her. Then we went up the elevator to the floor she was on and sat in two plastic industrial chairs with out of date magazines lying on a table in front of us.

  I sat in the waiting room's plastic chairs while Callum made the executive decision to find a pay phone and call my grandfather. I gave a vague thought to how worried he might be that Callum was calling instead of me, but I knew I couldn't make up an excuse for why I had been out all night or why I wasn't coming home for a few more hours. I was happy to let Callum tell him whatever he wanted to hear and deal with the rest of it later.

  He returned with a slight smile. Some success, at least. I didn't bother to ask what he told my grandfather, but I could see that he had been running his hands through his hair and there was black stubble on his chin. In the full light of the hospital lamps I could see how dusty his hair was from our encounter in the tunnels. He had a bruise along his throat, and I ran my fingers along the column of my own, wondering what it would have felt like to be gasping for air and be unable to wrest the fingers from your throat that were cutting it off. I swallowed, testing the feel of my throat muscles against the pads of my fingers. It made me feel claustrophobic.

  His struggles hadn't been acted out. There was no way you could make that panicked set of movements unless you really couldn't breathe. Self-preservation was a uniquely mortal thing to do, I figured. Would a supernatural creature be worried about dying in such a mortal way? I studied his profile quietly as I contemplated those things.

  I decided he must be mortal if not human. The rest of it I could work out later.

  He turned to me during a time when I was riveted by the pulse in his throat and a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. While I managed to tug my gaze from the pulse in his throat, it didn't go much further than his mouth. I told myself that I was too stupefied by fatigue to lift my eyes further, but I didn't argue with myself over how soft those lips looked. I couldn't focus on much more than the way they shaped their words when he spoke to me.

  "You really need to get some sleep," he said. "Why don't you let me take you home."

  I shook my head. I couldn't leave her. I forced her to leave that crypt and now she was in danger.

  "I want to be here when she wakes up."

  "I checked with the nurse, they said that was going to take a while."

  "Then I want to be here until she wakes up."

  He sighed and leaned closer. That soapy smell of him washed over me again and I inched away, afraid he might touch me and ruin my resolve to decide upon his mortality.

  "Here's what I know," he said. "They said she's suffering from adrenal fatigue. Slightly malnourished. They want to keep her in for a couple of days to make sure she gets the nutrients she needs."

  I nodded my head slowly. It sounded like there was something else coming. As if to confirm it, he shifted in his seat, facing me head-on.

  "They wanted to know her specifics. Next of kin. Birth date."

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, thinking how grateful I was that she had never given me any of that information.

  "I couldn't tell them I was related because they know me. They know my whole family. But they don't know you. Well..not well anyway. I said she was your cousin. Visiting from the city."

  I waggled my head up and down. That sounded about right. We could get away with that. Then I realized it might not fly for long.

  "But Gramp," I said.

  "I told him you were with me and that I would bring you home. You're going to have to handle the rest of it." The backs of his fingers whispered along my jawline, and I imagined he must be feeling pretty fatigued too because they lingered there just a little too long in the crook between my earlobe and jaw. I almost enjoyed the tingle until I realized he was staring at me.

  "What?" I said.

  "You're going to have to explain all of it." He gave me a look indicating he meant to him. He'd obviously seen enough he believed me when I said I'd been searching for Sarah when the cathedral caught fire, but whether or not he would believe the rest of it, I had my doubts. I tapped my finger on my thigh, thinking. I barely believed it all myself.

  "I still want to stay here until she's awake."

  "She'll be out for at least a couple of hours. And you need some rest too."

  I chewed the bottom of my lip. I didn't feel right about any of this. But I was exhausted. Every part of me, including the backs of my thighs, wanted to do nothing but fall into a coma for a few hours.

  Still, the protest was a habit I couldn't quite give up.

  "I can't just go home when she's alone in there."

  "And what about your grandfather?" he said. "Doesn't he deserve to know what's going on?"

  I cocked a brow at him. "And how would you describe what went on here?"

  To his credit, he didn't reply. Instead, he just got to his feet and held out his hand. I looked at it for a long time before I lay my palm against his. I waited, braced, for that feeling of electricity and when it came I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to work out what it might mean. I let it wash over me, tingling across my skin and riding my spine. I decided it didn't hurt, the electricity. I realized that in a way, it felt comforting. Familiar.

  I opened my eyes to see him watching me.

  "You trust me now?" he said and his gaze fell to my throat where I knew my pulse was racing.

  "Maybe not trust," I said. Trust was such a hard thing. "But I believe in you, and that's saying something."

  "Then let me take you home."

  I let him help me to my feet. His hand left mine long enough to move to the small of my back as he guided me from the waiting room to the elevators. He gave me at least three feet of space inside the cabin as it went down the four floors to the lobby. Then he gave me the fifteen minutes of silence I needed on the way home to collect my thoughts.

  I stole a glance at him to check and see if the bruise on his throat was still there. It was darker and bigger and if I looked at it long enough, I could make out the size of the fingers of the thing that had wrapped its hand around it. I thought of him struggling to live beneath the vice-like grip of that thing and I realized as he pulled into my driveway, he probably should have gotten checked out at the hospital as well.

  For some reason, it seemed very characteristic he hadn't requested any care for himself.

  I put my hand on the knob of the door and I gave him a small, timid smile over my shoulder. It was all I had in me, but I hoped he would understand it meant more than any words I could conjure.

  I had every intention of pulling the latch and releasing the door, but for some reason I hesitated. It was only when he reached across the car and laid his hand on mine I realized why. I wanted to feel that touch again. His fingers slipped around my wrist. He was touching my pulse, I thought. His thumb even moved like a caress over the skin and I could feel it press into the spot where my heart beat could be felt.

  "Goodnight, Ayla," he said with a different sort of rasp than had been in his voice earlier. Then he let go my hand and gripped the stick shift, looking straight ahead through the window.

  I scrambled from the car awash in confusion and a strange excitement that lit my feet as I ran for the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  In the end, I didn't have to say anything to Gramp. I don't know what Callum told him on the phone, but he didn't question me when I held up my hand as I closed the door behind me. I knew if I opened my mouth to say anything I would break down and cry. I didn't want that to happen, and maybe that's why he didn't question me. He knew me well after all. He just passed me a cup of warm cocoa and lay his hand on the top of my head. I could feel the heat of it, of him, radiating over me. I almost broke down then. With a small, tight smile, he turned away from me and went back into the kitchen to rattle pots and pans. I went up to my room, plunged my charger into my phone and fell onto my bed fully clothed.

  When I woke it was dark. The clock o
n my bedside said 6 PM. I'd slept all day, and probably right through supper. My first thought when I realized where I was and that I was safe, was of Sarah. I had to get to the hospital. I was sure her sedative had wore off by now and by this time of evening they'd be allowing visitors in. I grabbed a quick shower and stampeded down the stairs, phone in hand.

  I stopped short on the stairs when I saw Callum sitting in the dining room sitting across the table from my grandfather. Like the night before, there were three places set.

  "Funny," I said. "I've never seen you in my house before and now twice in two days this old man is breaking bread with you across his table."

  Callum looked up at me with fork poised halfway to his mouth. I recognized Mediterranean pea salad, my favorite, and my stomach growled loud enough to make Callum's eyebrow quirk.

  "Your grandfather and I go way back," he said.

  "Do you?" I eyed the big bowl of salad in the middle of the table and chewed my lip. Maybe Sarah could wait for five minutes while I crammed in a few bites. My mouth was already watering from the smell of curry and ginger. I grabbed my plate and scooped a heap onto my plate. I looked at my grandfather out of the corner of my eye and noticed him watching me intently.

  "If you know him so well," I said to him. "Why has he never been here before?"

  My grandfather had the grace to blush, but he went on undeterred. "Callum here never dared cross my threshold after the incident."

  He said it with all the mystery of a taut thriller, and Callum groaned out loud in mock protest.

  "I'm not sure I want to know," I said. "It sounds so dastardly."

  "Oh," Gramp said. "It was. It really was." He shoveled in a forkful of peas and chewed around a half smile. It was obvious he wanted Callum to do the talking.

  I shifted my gaze to the broad shouldered man sitting across from my grandfather. I almost didn't want to look at him fully. In my mind, he was still the dusty man who carried me out of the cathedral and accused me of arson. He was the man who followed me to the crypt because he was suspicious of me.