“What happened?” I asked when she went quiet.
Her green eyes turned to me. “We got married and I wanted a family, but I’d tried in the past without success. I thought it was me. Ashton never told me no, never said a word. When I asked for a baby, he kissed me and said anything I wanted, he would make sure I got. We tried unsuccessfully for months. I began to get discouraged. I went into a depression. I think that’s what made Ashton turn to Garrison. When he came to me with the idea, I was wary, but the idea of a baby … of you.” She touched my cheek. “I would have done anything, sold my soul even, to have you and my God, Fallon, you were gorgeous. The most perfect little person all bundled up in my arms. I never wanted to let you go.” Her smile vanished. The soft glint in her eyes hardened. “Everything was fine for a while, then Garrison began coming around the house. At first it was only to check on you. Then the visits became more frequent. He started asking strange questions and demanded I let him take you to his lab for some tests. But there was nothing wrong with you. You were always such a healthy child. I knew then that something wasn’t right. He became agitated, ranting on about meddling in things I didn’t understand and that I would be sorry if I kept you from him. I told him to get out, to stay away from you. Ashton was livid. He broke all ties with Garrison and for a while, that worked. He stopped coming around. Then, one day, Ashton brought home this eleven year old little boy.”
“Isaiah,” I murmured.
Mom nodded, her smile returning, but not as bright. “He was such a sweet little thing. He loved you from the moment he saw you. I couldn’t keep him away. He was always there, hovering over you, fussing when you would cry. You would think you hung the moon from the way he acted. It always made me laugh. But you loved him right back. He was the only one that could make you stop crying, or put you to sleep. It was amazing, even if I thought it was a little strange. But I didn’t question it. Then Garrison returned one day, followed by three men, demanding I hand you over or they would tear the place apart. I was so scared. I ran into your room, but you were gone. I couldn’t find you. I screamed at Garrison to give you back, but he didn’t have you either. Ashton came home then. It was the first time in four years that I saw my husband turn into something I have no name for.” She gave a shudder, closing her eyes. “He killed those men with his bare hands. It was horrific.”
I squeezed her fingers, knowing all too well what she was talking about. “What happened?”
She lifted her gaze to mine. “Isaiah had you. He’d taken you from your crib when Garrison had broken the door down and hidden you in the forest behind the house. For three hours, I couldn’t go near you. You’d shrink away every time I tried and Isaiah would snarl like an animal and hold you tighter. I couldn’t understand it. I was so torn and confused. I was terrified. I didn’t know what was happening to my family. That’s when Ashton told me. He told me what he was, what he’d done and why Garrison wanted you. I said things I know now I should never have said. I blamed Isaiah when I knew it wasn’t his fault. But I was so angry. Ashton had put you in danger all because he couldn’t tell me the truth. I had to leave. I had to do something to protect you. I knew Garrison would be back and he wouldn’t stop until he had you, and I could no longer trust Ashton. So I ran and I kept running, trying to protect you from the truth. I had hoped that he would stop, that eventually he would give up, but he was always there, always a step behind us.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I am so sorry, Fallon.”
I shook my head, my own eyes wet. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I couldn’t protect you.”
I snorted. “You protected me for seventeen years, Mom.”
She sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want you to get to this moment. I didn’t want you to suffer and live in fear. I wanted so much for you to be happy.”
I offered her a small smile. “Hey, I’m okay. I promise.”
She gave a nod. Her fingers, wet from her tears, touched my cheek and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I am so proud of you, Fallon. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever forget how much I love you.”
I started to shake my head, to tell her I wouldn’t when something shot across the sky, darkening everything for a moment like a plane passing over the sun.
“What was that?”
Amalie, who up until that moment I’d forgotten about, darted to her feet. “Someone’s there.”
Her Isaiah moved forward, pulling her into him as though to protect her from whatever was coming.
“Who’s there?” I demanded, getting to my feet as well, my hand still latched to my mom’s.
She started to shake her head when everything flickered again. “They’re on your side. Someone’s trying to wake you up.”
“No!” I spun to my mother, my heart frantic in my chest.
She rose quickly and pulled me into her arms. “I love you, Fallon.”
I grappled her close, crushing her to me as though I could somehow smuggle her back to the real world with me. “Can I see you again? Can I come back?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, baby. But I want you to listen to me, okay?” She framed my face with her hands and peered anxiously into my eyes. “You need to be brave. Don’t ever stop fighting. Don’t ever give up. You are strong, so much stronger than you can imagine. It’s why Garrison wants you so badly. You are the key to everything. You must fight. Let Ashton help you, but be careful. Trust your judgment.” She smoothed my hair back, her hands trembling, and her words rushed and desperate. “You’re not alone, baby girl. I will always be there. Just remember how much I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I was crying again, sobbing as the world continued to flicker faster and faster. My nails gouged into her skin, drawing blood, but I held on tighter. “Don’t go! Please don’t go again. Don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I love you.” Her face blurred, but not by my tears.
“Mom … Mom!”
Everything went black.
Chapter 19
“Mom!” I gasped, struggling beneath the force holding me down. My arms and legs flailed wildly as I tried to untangle myself from the hands.
“Fallon!”
I recognized the voice, but my mind was still stuck in the other world, the world that held my mother. “Let me go!”
“It’s me!”
My mind registered the dull gray wallpaper, the pus yellow carpets and the concerned face hovering above me. I knew where I was even before the stench of antibacterial cleaner and sweat collected beneath my nose. What I didn’t understand was why.
“Why?” I cried, choking on the single word. “Why did you wake me? Why did you…” I broke off, hating with every fiber of my being that it had been a dream.
Isaiah’s expression pulled tight, concern mingled with confusion. “You’ve been sleeping for three days. I was getting worried. I’m sorry.”
Three days. Of course he was worried. How could I yell at him for that? How could he have possibly known he’d just single handedly smothered what may have been the very last time I would ever feel my mother’s arms around me? He couldn’t.
I mashed the heel of my hand into the back of my eyelids, desperately trying to stay the tears blinding me. “I saw my mom.” My breathing hitched. A sob lodged in my throat. I sucked in several shaky breaths only to have them tumble out of me again with a weird, injured animal sound. “She was there and alive and…” Gentle fingers touched my wrists. My hands were drawn away and the tears spilled free. “She smelled exactly like I remember…”
“Fallon,” he murmured.
I shook my head. My hands lifted to cover my face again, a pathetic attempt to keep him from seeing me ugly-cry. But rather than let me have that shred of privacy, I was pulled into his chest where the fabric was stiff with crusted blood from where he’d been stabbed. I closed my eyes and let him hold me while I poured my heart onto his shoulder. His fingers combed gently through m
y hair, lifting and shifting the heavy strands aside the way my mother always did when I was upset. Something about cool air against the flushed skin always made me feel better.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly into the side of my neck, just over the soft thrum of my pulse. “I didn’t know.”
I sniffled ungracefully and shook my head. “It was only a dream.” Even if it had felt as real as his arms around me. I pulled back and surveyed the room housing us. “Where are we?”
A motel room. I was all too familiar with those. One queen bed guarded by two nightstands and a dresser at the foot with a TV. A small, round table with three chairs was pushed to the right of the room. Each chair was occupied.
I stiffened as Ashton rose to his feet, his eyes sparked with the familiar glint of pain he always got at the mention of Mom. I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing as he approached us.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
I accepted the glass of water Isaiah pushed into my hands. “I think I’m okay,” I said and took a sip. I gagged at the putrid taste. I had to double check to make sure it was really water and not sewage. “Ugh. I think it’s gone bad,” I said, wishing I could scrub my mouth. I passed it back to Isaiah with a thanks. “What happened?”
Trying to piece together what had happened, I glanced down at the black undershirt I was wearing in the place of my earlier clothes. My hands were bruised, the knuckles raw and torn. Purple and blue blossoms colored my arms and I could feel the ache in my shoulders. But the worst pain was the burn in my side where the blade had punctured my body.
I raised a hand to touch it.
“I wouldn’t,” Ashton said. “It’s still healing.”
“I’m not dead,” I observed, lowering my hand. This always felt like some kind of added bonus. Like finding a prize at the bottom of a really crappy box of cereal.
“Celia was able to mend the tear. The skin is still sensitive and there’s a chance it could open again if you’re not careful, but it should be well in a few days.”
I glanced at the woman in the corner. “Thank you.”
She inclined her head in response, but she had the pucker face of someone who just swallowed something extremely sour. I wondered if she was upset about being dragged into the mortal world to save me. It wasn’t as though she’d kept her feelings about the place a secret.
I turned back to Ashton. “What happened?”
“You passed out,” he answered simply. “Understandable considering the amount of blood you lost.” He broke off and turned his gaze down to his feet. Even then, there was no mistaking the flex of muscle along his jaw, or the way he seemed to be bracing himself. “You almost died.”
“Oh,” I said for lack of anything better. It was a little frightening how unaffected I was at the mention of my own death.
“Oh?” Isaiah, on the other hand, looked very affected. “That’s all you can say? Do you have any idea—?”
“Isaiah.” Ashton raised a hand, quieting what was sure to be a very irate rant.
I started to thank him. Then I met Ashton’s gaze and clamped my mouth shut.
“This is very serious, Fallon,” he started, his tone terse with disapproval.
“No, I agree!” I said quickly. “I just…” I shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Why don’t you start by telling me what happened?” Ashton supplied, not unkindly.
“Uh, well, I don’t—” I struggled to push myself into a sitting position, a gesture that should have been as easy as breathing, except it wasn’t.
It was horrible. It was like being stabbed all over again. Only this time, there was no evading the pain.
I cried out and nearly threw myself off the bed as if I could somehow escape it. But the abrupt and stupid motion only amplified the tear until I was choking for air. Black splotches popped in front of my eyes and I gagged on the bile rising in my throat.
“Easy!” Ashton was around the bed in two long strides, but even he wasn’t fast enough.
Isaiah had his arms around me and under me and was lifting me effortlessly into a sitting position. A small mountain of pillows was stuffed behind my back and I was propped properly into place.
“Okay?” he murmured gently into my temple as I fought to breathe.
Sweat soaked and breathing hard, I nodded and he drew away.
“Remind me never to get stabbed again.” I was trying to lighten the mood.
It didn’t work.
“Well, I certainly hope I don’t have to,” Ashton muttered, folding his arms.
He was standing next to my bed now. That close, he was larger than life and looming over me like a hulking shadow.
His eyes narrowed. “What happened, Fallon?”
A thought occurred to me. I remembered enough about what happened to know that what actually happened wasn’t my fault, so why was I getting the third degree?
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked tentatively.
“Aside from not listening to me?” Isaiah muttered.
“Or me?” Archer piped in.
“Or me,” Ashton said.
Whoa, talk about ganging up on the bedridden one.
“Okay, hold on.” I wet my lips. “I accept that I didn’t listen to you,” I said, pointing to Isaiah. “My bad and I’m sorry. I never said I would listen to you.” I looked to Archer. “And what do you mean?” I looked at Ashton.
“I told you to not to do anything reckless,” Ashton snapped and I frowned.
“Wait, I don’t remember that promise…”
“It was a nonverbal promise,” he retorted. “A sort of common sense sort of promise.”
I squinted at him. “I really don’t think that’s fair considering the circumstances. Also, I’m pretty sure your protégé is the one to blame in all this. He’s the one that poofed out of sight during a routine border check. So if you’re going to get all glowery-eyed at anyone, it should be him.”
Ashton angled his body ever so slightly to the right, just enough to get Archer and Celia in his line of sight.
“Archer?” he said calmly, but with authority.
I had to give Archer props. He didn’t even flinch. But he did clear his throat.
“I accept full responsibility for getting them caught by the humans.” He straightened his spine, his features becoming determined. “But there were dogs, Ashton. I don’t do dogs!”
Ashton pressed his eyes closed and sighed. “Okay, can someone please tell me what happened?”
Isaiah spoke when it was apparent that Archer and I wouldn’t. I don’t know what Archer’s excuse was, but I was already beginning to feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me and I was ready to go back to sleep.
He told Ashton everything, or at least the parts he was actually involved in. Archer and I filled in the parts Isaiah left out. Ashton and Celia listened until we all ran out of words.
“What happened to Trench-Coat guy?” I asked, using the label Archer had given the man who had stabbed Isaiah.
“His name is Damon Carpenter,” Ashton replied. “And we’re holding him for questioning.”
“He was a Tracker,” Isaiah piped in, blue eyes fastened on my face. “That’s how he knew the illusion wasn’t you.”
Trackers were humans with the ability to sense other people with power. I wondered if he was the same guy Garrison had sent to find me in the past because it always seemed like he was one step ahead of us, like he knew our next move before even we did. I hadn’t thought about it in the past, but obviously he had a Tracker on his side. Still the question remained, was Damon his only Tracker, or was there another one in the woodworks waiting to take his place?
I looked to Archer. “What was that thing?”
“An illusion.” He jerked his shoulders. “It wasn’t actually there.”
“Well, you almost got Isaiah killed,” I retorted.
Archer’s mouth thinned into an impatient, white line. “And what would you have liked me
to do? Hand you over? I was keeping you alive, Princess. Charming would agree I did the right thing.”
Isaiah avoided my gaze, but I didn’t need a response from him. I knew he would agree.
“How did you get caught?” I asked him instead.
“I was spotted by Sloan,” he grumbled with an almost grudging tone. “He used his compression powers to turn that beautiful bike into a pile of crushed metal.” He looked away, the muscles on his jaw working like he was chewing steel. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like asshole.
I bit back my amusement by focusing on the much bigger picture. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come and got you.”
Piercing blue eyes swiveled down until they latched onto my face. A single brow lifted in a very, are you kidding gesture and I sighed.
Of course he wouldn’t have told me.
“What about the earthquake?” Ashton interrupted.
The earthquake. I had nearly forgotten about that.
I dropped my gaze to my small, slim hands that didn’t look capable of causing such destruction. Yet they could crush a man’s skull with no effort at all and could shatter solid concrete as though it were made of thin ice.
“That was her royal highness,” Archer said simply.
I let my hands flop down into my lap and I glowered at him. “Okay, seriously, will you stop with that? It’s not funny.”
Archer shrugged. “Wasn’t meant to be.”
“How did you do it?” Ashton asked before I could pitch something at Archer’s head.
Good thing, too, because all I had at my disposal was a pillow and it wasn’t heavy, or spiky enough.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “The last time I did it, it was in my sleep.”
He shook his head. “Not the earthquakes. I mean controlling your power like that.”
I squinted at him. “I didn’t control anything. I told you before, I can’t stop it. When the Tracker stabbed Isaiah, I just wanted to kill him!” I growled, feeling the surge of rage slice through me. The burn was like an old wound being aggravated all over again. “I would have too had Archer not stopped me.” I willed myself to calm down. “And it’s not a power. It’s a curse.”
Touching Fire (Touch Saga) Page 30