Finally, it crept up the driveway, the motor a low rumble. Integrity didn't wait for the valet to come around to open her door, but dove in, still afraid that Evan might leave her. The way he's acting, he might do anything. She thought Evan might have jerked the valet out of the car, but she couldn't be sure. Before she had time to fasten her seat belt, Evan had the car squealing down the driveway and out onto the residential street. She buckled up as quickly as she could. He whipped around a corner and merged onto a busier street.
Once back at the hotel, Evan jammed the key card into the slot and jerked the door open. Integrity scuttled through, officially afraid of what he might do. Without turning on any lights, he stalked through the suite and out onto the balcony. He slammed the sliding glass door home so hard that it bounced back open. I'm sure as heck not gonna go close it, Integrity thought, backing warily into her room and shutting the door as quietly as she could. She turned the lock on the knob, but knew, deep inside, that such a flimsy lock would do little to stop Evan in the state he was in. She prayed that he would forget she was there, that he would forget just how much he loathed her. I think I'd take the rebels over him at this point, she thought, with a shiver.
Є
Integrity was jerked awake by the sound of a door shutting and a lock slamming home. Bleary eyed, fuzzy headed, she staggered from the bed where she had fallen asleep, still wearing the formal gown. She patted at her hair, knowing that sleeping on it had to have made it lovely, and struggled to smooth the slate gray skirt back into place. She tried to open her door, remembered it was locked, and turned it back. She remembered being afraid of Evan, of locking her door to protect herself, but she wasn't awake enough to know if that had been a dream or reality. She pulled open the door and peered into the hallway. His white shirt seemed to glow faintly in the dark. “Evan?” she asked, scrubbing at one eye to clear her vision.
His back was pressed against the door, and she could hear that he was breathing heavily. Integrity crossed the space and flipped the switch that lit the entryway. She winced in the light. As her eyes adjusted, and the pain in her head subsided, she turned to look at Evan. He didn't seem to realize she was there. “Evan?” she asked again. His eyes snapped to her face, a wild look in his eyes.
She took a step toward him, reached a hand out to his shoulder. He jerked away from her, moving away from the door, his back to the wall opposite her. “Don't touch me,” he half hissed, half growled. The sound was so animalistic that Integrity shuddered. He still wasn't breathing normally.
Raising her hands, though no longer trying to touch him, Integrity tried to keep her voice calm. “It's okay, Evan. It's all okay.” She had no idea what was going on, but she could see that his earlier anger had been replaced by terror. She had never seen him afraid, and it caused her to feel clammy inside. “Evan, what happened?” Her own breaths were growing more rapid.
Evan looked down at his hand, almost as though it weren't his own. He looked as though he were trying to process what he was seeing. Integrity glanced down, then looked again. “Oh my gosh,” she moaned, “you're hurt. Come on. Come in the bathroom.” She reached for his arm, intending to drag his inert form with her, but he jerked away again.
“Don't touch me,” he repeated.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” she said, as soothingly as she could manage. “Come in the bathroom where the light's better.” She took a tentative step toward the bathroom door, but he made no move to follow. “Evan?” she asked again.
The confusion and fear fled in an instant. Integrity couldn't almost see the hate pouring from his eyes. “I'm not hurt.”
Confused, Integrity looked to his hand again.
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Don't you get it? It's not my blood.”
His words felt like rocks pelting her. Visions of her parents flashed to her mind, their blood on Evan, their blood on her...
The hotel room swam back into focus slowly, and Integrity realized that she had sunk to the ground, her back pressed painfully to the wall. The molding around the bathroom doorway bit into her spine. She looked at Evan. He had backed up to the corner opposite her, seeming to crumple in on himself.
“Who?” she whispered.
Evan looked at her, disgust oozing from him. “The girl from the restaurant. She said she'd warm me up. Well, she did.” Moving quickly, Evan crossed the distance between them and thrust his blood covered hand at her. “You want to touch me so bad? Huh?” He was yelling now, and she flinched. She had never heard Evan yell, and it was enough to seize control over her. She could not have moved if she had wanted to. “Touch me!” he barked, shoving his hand even closer. The blood had settled into the creases of his palm, turning almost black in the dim light. “I'm warm, from her blood.”
Integrity looked past the hand, into Evan's face. There was something there she had never seen before, some emotion completely foreign to his features. Under her scrutiny, he pulled his hand back and seemed to retreat into himself. Abruptly, he turned and began to unlock the room door.
Without any conscious thought, Integrity found herself scrabbling across the floor, her dress impeding her, and blocked the door with her hand, her arm, her body. She pressed her shoulder into it as hard as she could, as though she were the only thing keeping out hoard of zombies, placing herself between them and Evan.
Her eyes were squinched shut so tight that it hurt. He spoke again. “Get out of my way.” She'd never heard a voice she thought could poison her before, but now she felt as though she should be seeking an antidote. Instead, she pressed her shoulder even harder into the door, clamping her eyes until colors dancing in their darkness. “Get out of my way, or I'll kick you!” Without looking, she knew that he was bent over her, screaming directly into her bowed head. She knew he would not hesitate to kick her, and that he would aim for the most painful spot, but, with all of her energy focused on keeping the door shut, she could not move.
She felt Evan grasp her arm in one hand and braced herself for impact. Rather than being hit or kicked, she found herself flung effortlessly through the air. She felt each impact separately as her right hip, elbow, shoulder, and then head struck the wall near the kitchen. She collapsed to the carpet.
With the sound of her pulse rushing in her head, her vision almost completely wiped out by the splashes of color exploding before her, Integrity knew that Evan would be opening the door. She struggled to her feet, falling back down when she stood on her skirt. Moving forward and rising at the same time, she managed to get to her feet, still not seeing much. If her hand had not been extended, she would have smashed her face against the cool metal of the door. “Evan?!?” she asked, desperately, her hands swinging back and forth in front of her. “Evan?!?” Had he already left? Had she been too slow to stop him?
Parts of the entryway appearing, Integrity fumbled for the doorknob. She turned it and jerked to open the door, but something stopped it—the U-shaped security lock had to still be in place. She shoved the door shut again and started fumbling with the loop of metal, her head pounding too much for her to realize that Evan could not have engaged the security lock once outside of the room. She swung the device back against the wall and jerked at the door again. It swung open a few inches, then slammed shut once more. She heard Evan swear off to her left.
“Where the heck do you think you're going?” he grumbled. She could hear him setting the locks in place once more, muttering expletives under his breath. “You'll end up in the drunk tank if you go staggering out there in a formal.”
Inexplicably, hot tears sprang to her eyes. “Evan? Evan, what's going on?” she pleaded. Leaning against the door, she rubbed at her eyes, trying to restore her vision.
Sounding shaky, but more in control, Evan responded, “What's going on is that you're going to go back in your room, go to sleep, and Paul will be here in the morning. That's what's going on.”
Able to partially see him now, Integrity blinked a few times. “Why will Paul be here? Where will you be?”
Her pulse rate had not slowed at all, despite his calmer demeanor. She could feel that something was wrong.
He swore again, the anger returning to the surface. “Dang it, Integrity, just shut up and go back to bed!” Almost frantically, he turned back to the door and began unlocking it once more. She threw herself against it, bracing her feet against the carpet. Evan swore, then turned and set off down the hallway, toward the balcony. A half-formed image of him lying, still, in the grass below forced her feet into action. She grabbed onto his forearm as it swung backward, and promptly found herself slammed against the wall, his hands on her shoulders. She still clutched his forearm, the sleeve of his jacket folding under her grasp. “Knock it off!”
Integrity swallowed, closed her eyes, and shook her head back and forth. Evan pulled her away from the wall and slammed her against it once more, hard. A whimper ripped from her lips. “Just because I just fed doesn't mean I can't eat again, Integrity. Don't push me!”
Taking short, gasping breaths, eyes still closed, Integrity steeled herself, released his forearm, said a prayer, slipped under his hands, and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Hold on, hold on, she chanted, convinced that he wouldn't throw himself off the balcony with her attached, knowing that he was strong enough to break her grasp, even if it meant breaking her arm. Hold on, hold on.
Evan's chest heaved under her cheek, and she thought she heard an occasional heartbeat, though she knew that wasn't possible. She prayed for the strength to not let go, no matter what he did, for the strength to save him from himself. She turned her head and buried her face in his chest, shutting out the world, pressing with her forehead until it hurt.
Slowly, miraculously, the tension ebbed from his body. She felt his arms raise, knew he was burying his face in his hands. She did not trust this respite, and clenched on tighter than ever. Don't let go, don't let go, don't let go.
His breathing slowed until it almost completely stopped. Her arms began to ache from the strain she was putting on them, and she eased her grip slightly, then tensed once more. She turned her face to the side, in search of fresh air. Feeling her own heart slowing in her chest, she could hear a definite thump inside Evan's, though it was very slow, only happening once for every ten beats of her own. The force involved actually moved his chest, as though his heart was just below the skin.
After a time, Integrity pulled back, just enough to look at him. His face was still buried in his hands, and she could see that the woman's blood had settled into the cracks of his knuckles and was smeared in wide patches across his skin, tinging it slightly. She waited a moment; Evan did not move.
The tension had fled. Wearily, Integrity lightly gripped one of Evan's arms and tugged him back toward the hotel room. He dropped his hands from his face, allowed himself to be led along, but stared only at the floor.
Integrity led him to the bathroom, turned on the light, then guided him to sit on the edge of the bathtub, afraid that he might collapse at any moment. She watched him for a moment, then turned on the sink, adjusting the hot and cold taps until she reached the temperature she wanted. She pulled the lever to activate the plug, then turned back to Evan as the sink filled, the water loud behind her.
Evan's face was back in his hands, and she gently tugged one away. She slid his jacket sleeve off one hand, guided it around his shoulders, then tugged it off his remaining hand, pulling it away from his face to do so. He was so laconic that she felt like she were undressing a crash test dummy.
Now that the jacket was gone, she could see two smears of blood on the pristine shirt. Her stomach clenched reflexively. She began to unbutton his sleeves, fumbling with the tiny buttons. Eventually, he brushed her hands lightly aside and unbuttoned them himself, then let his hands fall back into his lap. She rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, taking unusual care to make sure the folds were crisp and even. When the shirt would go no further, she placed a hand under one of his elbows and nudged him to stand. He did so, reminding her of a marionette--unable to move under his own power, lifeless.
Integrity shut off the water, the silence suddenly pressing on her ears, and unwrapped a fresh bar of hotel soap. She dipped the soap in the water, then lathered it. She guided Evan's hand to the water and dipped it inside. The ripples spread out, seeming to flee from the red that seeped into its purity. Integrity lifted his hand back out, then used her own hands to rub the soap into his stained flesh.
As she worked, small spots of clotted blood would break loose, then float on the surface of the water, like large specks of pepper. She was forced to empty the sink, then start again. She did not look at Evan, only focused on his hands, taking care to clean all vestiges of the event from under his fingernails.
She finished cleansing his right hand, pulled it from the water, then dried it gently with a fluffy, white towel. She moved to his other side and lifted his left hand. He pulled back, but she waited for him to stop resisting, then submerged it, allowing the blood to stain the pure water anew.
When she had finished with his hands and forearms, she turned her attention to his face. There was a smear of blood near his hairline, and one on his cheek. She eased him back onto the edge of the tub, then wet a washcloth with warm water, rubbing soap into the fabric.
Washing Evan's hands had been mechanical for Integrity, but she hesitated before wiping his face. She raised his chin with one finger, and he looked over her head at the wall behind her. Gently, she wiped the dried gore from his features, making sure to erase any soap residue when she had finished. She swallowed, then raised a shaking hand to smooth the hair she had set astray in her ministrations. Evan reached up, clasped her hand in his own, and looked into her eyes. The unadulterated despair present there caused her heart to collapse within her. Unable to help herself, she wrapped her arms around his head, pulled him to her, and buried her face in his hair.
He felt her tears when they reached his scalp.
Є
After a time, Evan urged her to go to bed, knowing she was exhausted. She shook her head, certain that he would feel her brush against his hair. Apparently too weary to argue with her, Evan stood instead, and they walked to the living area, sinking on to the couch. Integrity held onto him with both hands the entire time, half expecting him to make a break for it. She was having a hard time keeping her eyes open, but trusted that he wouldn't let her walk into anything.
Once on the couch, Integrity pulled her feet up beside her, wrapped both of her arms around one of his, and lay her head on the back of the couch, her nose and cheek resting on his shoulder. Don't let go, don't let go.
She drifted nearer and nearer to sleep, even as she fought against it. On the threshold, she mumbled, “Sea World wasn't Paul's idea, was it?” She snuggled her head more securely into the couch.
“I'm a monster, Integrity.” He sounded tired, as though he had given up a battle.
“Doesn't sound so monstrous to me.” Her words were slurring together, and she didn't know if he could even understand her anymore.
“It will destroy me.” It was a statement of fact, not of emotion. “I will destroy me.”
Integrity sat up, forcing herself awake once more. “What?” she asked, cinching down on his arm.
Evan looked at her, a sad smile twisting one side of his mouth. “I won't leave. Sleep.” When Integrity looked at him, disbelieving, he raised one hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, tenderly. “You're hair looks awful, by the way.”
Integrity punched him in the arm, then wrapped her arm back in place. She laid her head down on his shoulder, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Well, you can't destroy you,” she said around a yawn. “That's my job.”
She fell asleep as his hand methodically smoothing her hair.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Integrity drifted from slumber, the dull ache in her hip causing her to shift position. Her feet hit the end of the couch, and she pulled the puffy blanket tighter around her shoulder, burying her face in it to block out the
light. Then memory of the previous night intruded.
“Evan?” she called, sounding croaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Evan?”
He stepped from the bedroom, carrying several items of clothing over one arm. “Good. You're up.” His voice was crisp, sharp. “The sooner we get on the way, the sooner we'll get there.” He dropped the clothes haphazardly into an open suitcase, then turned back to the bedroom.
“What?” Integrity staggered to her feet, tangled in the blanket, and followed after him. Why am I always trying to catch up with everything? she grumbled. “Where are we going?”
Evan almost crashed into her as she entered the room, but he stepped back quickly and avoided a collision. He made a noise of impatience. “Would you mind moving out of my way?” he sniped, sounding extremely put out.
She stepped aside, then wished she hadn't. Evan was obviously not concerned with answering any of her questions. “Evan, where are we going?” she asked again, sounding impatient herself. A worm of fear wriggled into her stomach. “Did something happen?”
He shot her a disbelieving look, sidestepped her, and returned to the bedroom.
Did last night even happen, or was it just a really vivid dream? “Evan, did they find us?”
He sighed gustily. “No, I'm taking you back to Westmarch,” he said, slowly, as though she couldn't understand simple English.
“What?” Now she was thoroughly confused. “What do you mean you're taking me back to Westmarch?”
Evan rolled his eyes. “I'm taking you back to Westmarch,” he said, over-enunciating every word.
“Why would you take me there? Did you forget the whole everyone-wanting-to-kill-me thing?” Evan continued with his task. “What is going on?” she asked, angry, grabbing his arm as he passed. He ripped it away from her with a hiss, then slapped her across the face.
Evan: Book Two of the Destine Series Page 23