As it all came into focus, so did her memories of him screaming in grief. It was so vivid that she flinched and tried to raise her hands, but Lionel held her wrists fast.
“It’s me,” his voice cracked. “You’re safe now.”
When she didn’t say anything, Lionel leaned a little toward her and smoothed stray curls away from the sweat on her forehead. Tears lit up his eyes.
“Don’t you know me?”
She did, but those dreams or visions...they were all mixed in.
Slowly, Alice reached up and pressed her palm to his stubble covered cheek.
“You’re...real?”
Her voice sounded like the croaking of a bull frog.
Lionel let out something between a laugh and a cry.
“Yeah, I’m real.”
Relief hit her like a blow and she began to cry, huge gulping sobs that shook her whole body. Lionel lay down and cradled her against him, the occasional plop of moisture falling onto her head from his tears.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “If I had just stopped and listened to Marco this wouldn’t have happened to you. Why didn’t I listen?”
“It wasn’t…your fault.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
Alice swallowed, her throat on fire. “My…throat?”
“I forgot, you shouldn’t talk too much. You strained your vocal chords pretty badly. Gerald would’ve healed you, but at first you wouldn’t let anyone near you, and then, once you’d calmed down, he didn’t know what was in your system. He wanted to wait it out.”
She pressed her cheek harder into his chest, winding one arm around his waist. He was so solid and safe, in spite of his strange behavior the last few days.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
“Stop it,” she whispered into his chest. “Just…hold me.”
His arms tightened around her, and after a few minutes his body relaxed against hers.
They lay like that until a knock sounded on the door. Lionel sat up and Alice could see Gerald coming in, face haggard.
“I need to examine Alice, could you call Logan, let him know she’s awake?”
Lionel nodded, looking back at her with a smile before leaving the room.
Gerald sat down gingerly and took her pulse. When that was finished, he closed his eyes and Alice could feel the cool tingling of his power moving through her. The headache lifted and her throat no longer felt on fire.
“What happened?” he asked.
Licking her lips, trying to find the courage to talk about it, Alice was at a loss for words. The effort of trying to remember brought the images and feelings back, not as strong, but it still made her tremble.
Gerald nodded, as if she’d said volumes.
“It’s some kind of neuro-toxin. Not unlike what Lionel was dosed with. The affects on him...well, I’m not positive yet. But I do know that what you were dosed with acts as a hallucinogen. How did you come into contact with it?”
“It was...a gas...sweet smelling...and...there was—”
Her body flinched as Phantasm’s face flashed through her mind. It couldn’t have been real, could it?
“Alice, this is similar to the side effects of the drug, Fantasy, except, in most cases, there’s an intense craving for the drug afterwards. Are you...Do you...?”
“No.” Her voice was soft, but firm. “No way in hell.”
Gerald’s shoulders relaxed.
“Are you saying it was the drug?”
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. Did you see who did this?”
She nodded again.
“Was it the one you’re after?”
“I-I think so. His...face...”
Gerald’s frown deepened.
“Your mind was probably changing what you were seeing and hearing.”
She licked her lips again.
“A-a gas mask, full face...but not. It kept changing, a-and I thought...it was...”
He patted her hand as tears fell down her face again.
“It’s alright. You need rest. We can go over this later. It looks like the toxin has almost worked its way out of your system. It’s been a longer duration than most people exposed to Fantasy, but there’s no sign of permanent damage. You should be fine in a few days.”
“What was Lionel dosed with?”
“I still don’t know, but I’m working on it. Get some sleep,” he said, getting up to leave.
“Where’s Marco?”
“He was affected by the strength of your fear. He found it hard to control his powers around you, so he’s kept his distance.”
“But I smell—”
“Yeah.” Gerald smiled for the first time since he walked in. “He’s been cooking at your uncle’s house to keep himself busy. Then Lionel brings the food over, what he hasn’t already eaten, that is.”
Now it was Alice’s turn to smile.
“Can I see Marco?”
“He’s not here right now. He and your uncle got called in to the paper.”
“Why?”
“Nothing serious, not really. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. I mean it, sleep, or I’ll dose you.”
Once the door was shut, Alice tried to sleep. Her body ached with fatigue as if she’d been fighting for days, which she supposed, in some ways, she had been. But her mind wouldn’t stop turning things over and over. Questions, images, words. Instinct told her that there was truth hidden somewhere in all she’d seen and heard, a clue that would help her know who this was.
And under all that was something darker — something Alice didn’t want to face, but kept popping up like a maniacal fairy that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The sun had begun to lose its potency and the air took on the delicious coolness of late afternoon by the time Alice’s mind finally let her succumb to sleep. Just as she drifted off, those dark thoughts started to gain power, filling her dreams with anger and fear. She tossed and kicked, trying to shake them off, but they whispered in her ear, raked their fingers across her heart. Every moment made her realize deeper and deeper the one thing she’d tried so hard to deny, to protect against.
The scream tore itself out of her throat, her hands peeling the sheets off her legs in a panic. She had to bury her face in her hands, the light was so bright. Alice wondered if she’d really slept at all until she realized that it was morning sunlight streaming into the room.
The door opened, but Alice didn’t look up to see who it was. Fear began to give way to a deep burning anger that she was just beginning to understand.
“Whoever you are, stop hovering and talk!” she said
“Are you...I mean, what’s wrong?” Marco said.
Hearing the compassion and gentleness of his voice made Alice feel bad for snapping, but not enough to expel her anger completely.
“Bad dream. Why are you just standing there? Afraid I might hurt you?”
“Yes, actually.”
That made her look up, hot tears running down her cheeks. A retort died on her lips as she took him in, the warm sunshine lighting up every gold undertone of his skin and brown hair. His hands were in his pockets, and there was a day or two’s growth of beard on his long face. It added to the golden tint in his skin.
His clothes were rumpled, the first two buttons of his shirt undone and she could just see a little hair peeking out of the top, the outline of wiry shoulder muscles visible.
He was staring at her and when she looked back into his eyes her thoughts burst out onto her tongue.
“I never noticed...you’ve got red in your eyes, like a...cinnamon color.”
He smiled and looked down. “How poetic.”
That made her laugh a little.
“I’m sorry I yelled. I—”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“It’s not you, I’m actually very glad to see you. Very glad.”
His smile was gentle and a little relieved.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here, it was
just too much.”
“Gerald told me. I hear you’ve been busy though.”
“When you woke up I thought you’d be hungry.”
“Starved.”
She tried to stand up, but the room spun and she fell back onto the bed. Marco rushed to her side and tried to help her, but she jerked her arm away, the anger flaring back to life.
“I just need a minute!”
He frowned, studying her.
“I’m sorry, I just — I don’t need help.”
“Alright.” He backed up a few steps, but kept his gaze firmly on her.
As if he’s waiting for me to fall on my butt again. I’m fine! I’m strong and...fine.
But Alice knew that wasn’t true. The anger burned brighter, at the thought of anyone trying to help her walk or bring her food or even look at her with pity.
With clenched fists, she rose slowly, muscles tight as she put one foot in front of the other. It was slow, but she finally made it through her bedroom door and into the living room, where Uncle Logan, Lionel, and Gerald were all waiting for her.
Behind the worry in their eyes, Alice saw pity. She pressed her lips tight and focused on the couch, though she could feel their gazes watch every slow step.
“Why don’t you sit down,” Uncle Logan said, smiling at her.
“I don’t want to,” she said, turning towards the punching bag.
She’d show them. She’d walk all around the loft, show them she was strong, she was alright.
Even though the others might not have thought she was being smart to take laps around the loft, by the time she’d finished her third time around, Alice’s legs had stopped shaking and her head had cleared.
“Can I get you some coffee?” Marco asked.
“That would be great.”
When she reached out for it he walked past her and put in on the table instead, looking at her with a silent demand that she sit down.
For some reason, maybe because it came from Marco, and not Lionel or Uncle Logan, Alice obeyed. Soon after, Marco placed a plate of warm pancakes dripping with butter and syrup in front of her.
Lionel quickly joined her, as did Uncle Logan and Gerald. They sat in silence, everyone sneaking glances at her, but no one daring to ask anything. Finally, she got tired of it all and looked each one in the eye.
“Ask! Whatever it is you want to know. Or if you want to say something, just do it. This...whatever this is, it’s driving me crazy.”
“I need to give you one last examination,” Gerald said, his voice firm. “Just to be sure all the toxin is out of your system.”
“After breakfast.”
“And then, you rest,” Uncle Logan said.
“No, I’m fine. I have things to do.”
“Like?”
She glared at him. “I’m fine.”
He glared right back, pointing his fork at her as he spoke.
“You just woke up screaming. Again. It took you fifteen minutes to be able just to walk normally, you’ve got dark circles under your eyes that rival mine, and who knows if this poison will pop up if you try to fight. You’re not fine. You rest or so help me God-”
“What? You’ll tie me down?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
They stared at each other, anger flushing their faces.
Lionel cleared his throat. “I have an idea.”
She dared him with a look to treat her with kid gloves.
“How about if I take you out tonight? Someplace nice, maybe the Elliot? That way you could just spend the day relaxing, getting ready for something fun, instead of feeling like an invalid.”
It should’ve diffused her completely.
Finally, after all this time, he wanted to take her out, treat her like...well, someone special. But the only thing it managed to do was surprise her enough to take the edge off her anger.
“The Elliot? That’s...I don’t think I’ve got anything to wear.”
Lionel smiled his crooked smile.
“I’ll buy you something, just write down your size and favorite color and I’ll send it over today. Shoes, too.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no matter how much she tried, Alice couldn’t think of an excuse. And why would she want to? She’d waited a long time for this.
Alice smiled.
“That’s very generous, Lionel. I’d be happy to do that.”
If he noticed that she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the offer, Lionel didn’t show it. She scribbled what he wanted to know on a piece of paper and he grabbed it with glee.
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
When she looked back at the table, Marco’s face was tense, his eyes just a little too focused on his barely-touched pancakes. Alice brushed his knuckles with her fingertips and his head jerked up. A profound sadness lit his brown eyes for just a moment, and then it was gone.
He smiled.
“I should start to clean up. Made quite a mess.”
The rest of them finished their breakfast in a hurry. Uncle Logan left with barely a good-bye and Alice felt a small twinge of guilt that quickly gave way to her growing anger.
When Gerald declared her clean of toxins, Alice felt relieved, and then immediately worried. If she was, then why was she so angry?
“You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” Gerald said, his voice low. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”
“I’m not some delicate flower.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But sometimes, being pampered doesn’t heal some wounds. Maybe try something physical.” He nodded at the punching bag. “Get it all out.”
She swallowed, uncomfortable that he had read her so well.
Marco was the last one there, though he’d flown through the dishes. He was just putting away the last of them when Alice came out of her room in sparring gear.
“You sure—”
“Yes, I am,” she snapped, almost running to the bag.
At first, she tried to hit it with the proper form, but her body felt wild and too contained, like a river swollen with rain that was held back by a dam.
Images from the gas hit her mind and she flinched.
“Alice,” Marco put his hand on her shoulder.
She grabbed his hand, stepped back, and elbowed him in the gut before she could stop herself. Marco’s breath came out in a cough and he stumbled back.
When she turned to look at him, Alice expected anger, or at the very least indignation. His eyes were wide as they stared into hers, a glimmer of understanding shining in them. Marco caught his breath and took off his button-up shirt, a thin undershirt the only thing covering his chest and back. Stretching his arms and neck, he walked to the edge of the mat, bending his knees into a ready stance.
It took her a moment to respond. In her current frame of mind Alice was afraid of really hurting him. But he nodded at her, as if giving her permission to get out all the things that were bursting inside.
Phantasm’s distorted face lanced through her mind again, his words ringing in her ears.
And fury rolled over Alice.
With a yell, she charged at Marco, attempting a roundhouse kick to his face. He dodged and punched her in the stomach. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down as she lost her balance. They rolled on the mat. Marco started to pin her when Alice slipped out of his grasp and scissored her legs to get to her feet.
She didn’t give him a chance to get his footing. She punched him in the face with a scream and kicked him back onto the mat. Her attempt to pin him was sloppy and he rolled her onto her back.
She struggled, grunts of anger bubbling up from her throat. But this time, Marco had managed to get the upper hand.
Without a word, he stood up. His face was red where she’d hit him, sweat dotted his olive skin.
They sparred again and again. Each time, Alice felt her anger and fear lessen, like pus being drawn from a wound.
She and Marco were rolling on the mat, looking for a chance to pin the
other when something in Alice broke and she began to cry. Her arms went limp and the sudden change in resistance caused Marco to fall on top of her.
He propped himself up on his elbows and stared at her.
“Are you—”
Alice threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck as she wept. After a moment, Marco’s hand cradled the back of her head and his arm wound around her back, holding her lightly but with strength.
“Thank you,” she whispered once the tears subsided.
“For what?”
“For knowing what I needed.”
“Any time.”
She leaned back and realized that he was laying half on top of her. “I...I’m sorry I hit you.”
It was the only thing she could think to say because her mind had suddenly stopped working.
He swallowed, brown eyes flitting to her lips and back to her eyes. “It’s alright I...I shouldn’t have...interrupted.”
“How long can you stay?” she whispered.
“As long as you want.”
What she wanted was changing the longer they lay intertwined on the mat. Her hand ran slow and unsure over his bare shoulder and to his bicep. Marco’s eyes held hers with an intensity she’d never seen, his breath picked up, chest brushing hers with each exhalation. She looked at his mouth, noticing for the first time a tiny scar on his upper lip.
“Where did that come from?” she asked, her finger touching the scar.
“Uh...I think...playground, actually.”
Her laugh was breathy with nerves. “That all seems—”
“Very long ago.”
“But not.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Alice moved her hand to his cheek and looked into his eyes once more. The connection pulled at her, like a gentle tug on a rope. She felt heat start to build in her body, leaving a growing desire in its wake. Before she could stop herself, she leaned forward, lips inches from Marco’s.
The phone echoed shrilly through the loft. They both jumped, nearly hitting their heads together. It took Marco a moment to untangle himself from her and sprint to the phone.
Her face felt flushed and an aching sensation had begun to grow just below her belly.
I almost kissed Marco...
“Yeah, I’m still here...I’ll ask her,” Marco said.
Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1) Page 26