He nodded, and the movement was enough to put him within kissing distance. I traced the curve of his lips with my eyes and clenched my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from reaching up to touch him, to run my fingers across the tattooed skin of his neck and chest.
"But when I felt your power now, I didn't feel any of the rage—there was just nothing.... It was like you weren't doing magic at all," he whispered, leaning closer.
Victoria cleared her throat, the sound causing me to take an unsteady step back from Nic.
He'd said there were no side-effects from him healing me with his essence, but as far as I could tell, this all seemed like a pretty big side-effect. And if it were true, if him sharing his essence with me prevented him from sensing my magic when I was using it, then it was a huge boon. I'd been afraid of him killing me because of my power. I hadn't stopped to think of what might happen if we found a way around it all.
"We need to get going. Heddou woke up," Victoria said, her dark gaze silently observing me. She didn't need to say anything to let me know she disapproved. I could feel her censure all the way across the room.
"Let me grab a shower and a change of clothes," I said, watching Nic from the corner of my eye.
I wanted to reach out and touch him so badly. I could just tell Victoria and Marcel to go on without me....
The moment the thought popped into my head, bile rose in the back of my throat. I wanted Nic so much I was willing to risk people's lives to have him? I was willing to put my work aside just so I could steal a few sweet moments in his arms?
It felt wrong. I crossed my arms across my chest and headed for the hall. The further away from him I got, the easier it was to see that him not wanting to kill me wasn't the only side-effect of sharing his soul.
"Amber," Nic called after me, and my steps faltered.
Gripping the wall, I kept my back to him, but I didn't answer.
"I'll see you later," he said, the promise in his voice causing my toes to curl into the hall carpet. There was a weight to his words, so much left unsaid, and yet I understood it without him to spelling it out.
The memory of his touch, of his lips on my body as he’d held me, suspended, in that place between longing and bliss, washed over me, and it was strong enough that I was suddenly glad to have the wall to hold onto.
"Later," I squeaked out, ashamed of the pitch of my voice as memories of our time together in the bed just a few feet away crashed over me.
The sound of his footsteps and the opening and closing of the front door had me sagging against the wall. My body tingled as the distance between us grew. It wasn't painful, just more a discomfort, like an itch I couldn't quite reach to scratch.
"Shit," I muttered, before I pushed back onto my feet and headed for the shower.
Evidently, Nic's inability to sense my power as a witch hunter wasn't the only side-effect. But I had a feeling that there would be more. We just hadn't figured it out yet, and that alone was enough to worry me.
22
I shrugged my shoulders as we waited outside Heddou's hospital room, trying to dispel the tingling by using the fabric of my blouse to scratch against my skin. Of course, it failed, and Victoria shot me a concerned look as I attempted to use the wall like a scratching post.
"Do you have fleas?" she asked, leaning in close enough that no one passing up and down the hall could hear.
"No, what gave you that idea?" My irritation made my tone sharper than usual.
"Because I've seen animals with fleas behave in much the same manner as you are right now," she said, eyeing me carefully. "Do you need a doctor to look at the bite wound? Maybe you contracted something from Tess."
"I don't have fleas, and I definitely don't have ghost rabies, or cooties, or anything else you're going to throw at me."
Marcel shot us both a considering look as my words reached across the hall to where he stood. "There is no such thing as ghost cooties," he said seriously, his accent lending an air of authority to the ridiculous statement. I fought the urge to burst out laughing.
"Good to know," I said. "Happy now?" I looked at Victoria.
She simply shrugged and pushed up from the wall as Heddou's doctor stepped out of the private room.
"Can we see him now?" Victoria asked, before I could open my mouth to speak.
The doctor shook her head. "I'm afraid not. He's still heavily sedated and every time we attempt to bring him out, he becomes quite distressed. Anyway, in his current state, I'm afraid he wouldn't be able to answer any questions. If he shows signs of recovery and doesn't continue to distress himself, we might consider reducing his sedation … but you still won't be able to talk to him unless we extubate and stabilise him. I feel that you going in there might cause him to deteriorate," she said, her voice clipped and clinical.
"Has any of his family come in?" I asked, drawing the ginger-haired doctor's attention.
"I wouldn't know—you'd need to discuss that with the nursing staff. Do you have any other questions regarding his immediate condition?" she asked, her complete dismissal of my query grating on me.
"Will he survive?" Marcel asked softly.
The doctor started as though she hadn't noticed him leaning against the wall, her birdlike hands fidgeting before she brushed her frizzy, ginger hair back from her face—a pointless gesture that told me she was far more nervous than she was letting on.
Part of me wanted to feel sorry for her, but the cold judgement in her eyes and the clinical way in which she seemed to treat all her patients and the family members we'd witnessed her talking to in the hall before she'd made it to Heddou's room told me everything I needed to know about her.
There might have been a time when she had cared, but not anymore. Now it was a job; nothing more, nothing less. She'd figured out the key to locking away her emotions and was now unfazed by the moment to moment life and death situations taking place around her. If she wasn't so utterly human, I might have mistaken her for some preternatural nasty that preyed on the misery of those around her.
As it was, I half-expected her to suggest we unplug Heddou's life support now and save the hospital the funds it took to keep him alive.
"That's not something I can say. We're doing everything we can, but until he stops distressing himself, I would suggest you prepare yourselves look elsewhere for a witness."
Marcel nodded. There was a sadness about him, something to suggest that he was taking the entire situation much harder than perhaps he should have been.
"Is that all?" the ginger-haired doctor asked.
"For now, yes," Victoria said.
Without another word, the doctor stalked away and the small group of interns and junior doctors that had been standing to one side, waiting, patiently fell into step behind her.
"She's pleasant," Victoria said. It took me a full second to realise she was actually being utterly sarcastic.
Cracking a smile, I turned toward Marcel, his serious expression and faraway gaze telling me he hadn't heard a word Victoria had said.
"What is it?" I asked, touching his arm gently.
He started as though I'd hit him and pushed up from his slouched position against the wall like he was seeing me for the first time. "Sorry, I was miles away.”
"I saw that. What's bothering you?"
"Heddou was our best shot at getting at Jasper. He spent the most time with him, and Jasper went after Heddou personally … doesn't that tell you something?"
"Yeah, it tells me he went after the biggest player in town," I said.
Marcel shook his head. "Heddou is powerful, no doubt, but he's not the biggest player in town right now...." There was an emphasis in his voice that said I was missing something.
Victoria nodded next to me, and I suddenly felt more than a little dense.
"You can't be serious. You think I'm the biggest player in town? Heddou practices Voodoo, I'm...." I waved my hand in the air, suddenly unsure of how I was supposed to describe myself, describe my own p
ower. Sure, it was a force to be reckoned with, but I was untrained, and anyway, Heddou was capable of keeping his dead enemies around him simply for kicks.
"You're power itself, Amber," Marcel said, keeping his voice low. "The fact that Jasper has not made a real move against you yet, one that you yourself haven't invoked, speaks volumes."
"Tess attacked me in my own bed last night. I'd call that making a move against me."
"No. If Jasper wished to make a move against you, you would be dead." He made it sound so simple, like he was reading a shopping list and not telling me that if I faced Jasper I would die by his hand.
"Thanks for the optimism," I said.
"We need to figure out why he's raising the dead the way he is. We need to know what his plans are, because at the moment, we're merely children fumbling in the dark as the monster from beneath the bed stalks our every move."
"You could write Hallmark cards, you know that?" I asked, lacing my words with sarcasm. He had a point and I hated it.
"I don't mean to sound trite, but knowing his intentions gives us the best chance at stopping him."
"And how do we do that?" Victoria interjected. "Our only witnesses are a homicidal ghost and a Bokor on life-support. It's not exactly a place to start."
Marcel pushed open the door to Heddou's room and poked his head inside. "Can you keep the hospital staff away?" he asked, addressing Victoria.
Her eyes darkened and she licked her lips, making me think that perhaps I needed to have a chat with her about keeping humans off the menu. I'd seen her eating human food, but I'd also heard stories about changelings and their … preferred dietary requirements.
"Do you think me incapable?" she quipped back, drawing a smile from Marcel. The first true smile I'd seen from him since we'd met.
"No. Incapable is not a word I would ever use in regards to a woman like you," he said.
I waited for Victoria to shoot him down. To tell him that he was talking out through his ass and to stick his flattery. Instead, she gave him a considering look. The kind of look a woman gives a man when she is contemplating taking him to bed.
Marcel's smile widened and I suddenly felt as though I was intruding on a private moment between them. The urge to walk away washed over me in a wave and I did my best to squash it down inside.
"Good," Marcel said, making me think I'd missed an entire chunk of the conversation.
Glancing back and forth between the two of them didn't clear the matter up. How they could go from hating one another to flirting was beyond me. But my mother had always said there was a fine line between love and hate. Clearly, that line was particularly thin, if not non-existent, in this case.
"Shall we?" Marcel said, holding the door to Heddou's room open for me.
I didn't ask him what we were going to do. I'd found less questions usually got me to the answers faster. It seemed like it should be a contradiction, and yet it was true of almost every situation I'd found myself in.
The room was dimly lit, most of the light cast by the collection of machines gathered around Heddou's bed. Seeing him lying there, his ebony skin stood out against the stark contrast of the pale sheets and hospital gown. I was used to seeing him in his vibrant silk waistcoats and satin shirts, the colours adding warmth to his body. Now he looked more ethereal, fragile even, as though at any second, the steady rise and fall of his chest would cease and he would simply disintegrate onto the sheets, becoming little more than the piles of ash and dust I had found in his house.
Marcel moved up along the side of the bed, his sadness beating against my skin like the wings of a bird.
“ You were friends." I asked, unsure why I hadn't realised it before.
"Yes." A one word answer that held enough emotion to build a picture of a friendship that had roots longer than some of the oldest trees in King City.
"How long?"
Marcel raised his head and smiled at me, the unexpected shifting of his features making me flinch. "Longer than this city has stood, child," he said, the intonation of his voice causing my teeth to ache.
"How old are you?"
"How old is time?" he answered, returning his attention to the man in the bed.
"And Heddou? How old is he?" I asked.
"That is for him to tell. If he lives...."
"You could help him," I said.
"I could. But I do not interfere in the lives of others. We all live, we all die. It will happen not one moment before nor after it is meant to."
His emphasis on the words told me there was more he wasn't telling me.
"How are you at acting as conduit?" he asked suddenly.
"I don't think I've ever been a conduit."
"Good, then you will learn something new," he said as he grabbed my hand and jerked me closer to the bed.
"Hey—" I started to say, but my words were cut off as a jumble of imagery slammed into me, causing me to stumble.
"Place your hand on his if you want to truly see," Marcel said, but his voice seemed to be coming from very far away, and it took all of my concentration to listen to his words without allowing myself to be swept away in the onslaught.
I did as he suggested, and just like someone had plucked me from the raging current, I found myself in total darkness. The silence surrounding me was suffocating, and when I opened my mouth, I felt it crawl down my throat and into my lungs, leaving me breathless.
"Why are you here?" Heddou's voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
"It has been a long time, old friend," Marcel said, and it was then I realised he was standing next to me.
Heddou hissed, the sound filling the darkness like a chorus of snakes about to strike.
"Don't be like that. I did not come here as your enemy but as your friend," Marcel said placatingly.
"You came for her," Heddou said, the darkness surrounding us lightening as images of a woman I recognised flashed around us. The sound of her laughter, like a warm caress, brushed against my skin.
"Marcel!" she called out, and I turned my head in time to see her walking toward us, her golden-brown skin glimmering in the light of a sun that was just out of sight.
Marcel reached out toward her, but the second his hand brushed her, she broke apart, floating away like a curl of smoke.
"You're not wrong, but you're not right either," Marcel said. The tension in his body flowed down his arm and through his hand, to mine. The woman was important to him.
The last time I'd seen her had been at Heddou's house. She had welcomed me and Nic inside, the glimmering of her skin little more than an illusion, an illusion I had been able to break easily. But that hadn't meant she wasn't powerful—just not as powerful as Heddou.
"Do you know where you are?" Marcel asked.
"I am where I always am, isn't that why you needed the witch to get to me?"
"No, old friend," Marcel said. "I needed the witch to reach you because you're so close to death. Don't you remember?"
The moment Marcel asked Heddou to remember, the darkness was lit up once more. Jasper's smiling face, the sound of screaming; pain and terror … so much terror. Sucking in a deep breath, I tried to keep the fear at bay, but Marcel's grip on my hand tightened, magic flowing against my own, holding mine at bay and forcing my wards to stay down.
"Am I dead?" Heddou asked, and for the first time since I'd met him, he actually sounded afraid.
"Not yet. And if you were, I wouldn't need the witch to reach you," Marcel said. "But I need you to tell me why Jasper chose you."
"I cannot tell you," Heddou said, the darkness closing in around us like a living, breathing entity. It pressed against my skin, crushing and probing as it searched for a way in.
"You must, Heddou. For her sake, you must tell me..." Marcel said.
"Is she near death, too?" Heddou asked.
"She wasn't with you. I had hoped perhaps she had escaped before—" Marcel cut off.
"He took us both, Marcel. I am sorry."
Sorrow wrap
ped around me and the darkness lightened. A woman screaming filled my ears and it took all my strength not to drop to my knees and sob.
"What does he want with her?" Marcel asked, his voice strangled by the emotion riding him.
"You know what she is.... It is what we all want," Heddou said.
The darkness melted away and Marcel's grip on my hand disappeared.
Stumbling away from the hospital bed, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to slow the spinning in my head.
Heddou remained, unmoved, in the bed, the steady rise and fall of his chest in time with the machine. His heart rate seemed a little higher, but other than that, I couldn't see any difference in him.
"I am sorry, old friend," Marcel said, touching Heddou's hand on the white sheet with a tenderness I hadn't expected from him.
One lone tear trickled from the side of Heddou's closed eyes, glittering and bright in the false light of the hospital room. It rolled onto his cheek before slowly making his way down toward his ear.
Without missing a beat, Marcel whipped a small, clear vial from his pocket and pressed it to Heddou's cheek, catching the tear before it could hit the pillow.
"What are you doing?" I asked, watching as he replaced the cap and lifted the vial toward the light, the tear glittering like a diamond at the bottom of the glass.
"Nothing you need worry about," Marcel said with a smile, before he turned for the door, leaving me to stare down at the man in the bed.
Heddou had endangered my life. He'd used my hair to create a doll that had given Fionn power over my will. It wasn't something I could forgive him for … but I also didn't want to see him removed from the board like this. If anyone was going to kick his ass, then it should have been me, not some dickhead with a god complex.
"Are you coming?" Marcel asked as he paused in the doorway.
"Where to?" I asked. Marcel knew more than he was telling me, that much was for certain, but he could have left me to suffer in the onslaught of Heddou's mind, channeling my power and locking me out of the conversation, but he hadn't. That suggested he wasn't going to keep everything a secret from me, and if that were true, then he would share with me what he knew when he thought the time was right.
Touch of Shadow (The Shadow Sorceress Book 5) Page 17