Breaking free of her hold on him, he stepped away from the rail and turned his back to her. He didn’t want to ask the next question, but curiosity got the best of him.
“You told me that Layne would care about her, but you never said how she would feel about him. I saw the way she reacted upstairs. Her feelings for him are as strong as his are for her. Aren’t they? ”
“Their lives are intertwined, Dylan. It’s the reality of a Seeker-Keeper bond. She needs him to keep her alive. He needs her to survive. The affinity triples that need.”
“Why does my soulmate need another man? She’s mine and I am hers. There should be no one else in our hearts.”
“The need is different, Dylan. I know it won’t help ease your mind, but you have to remember what I told you. No matter what you face on this journey, don’t give up on your love. This is fate, son.”
“Fate?” he grumbled, meeting her gaze once more.
She nodded her head before continuing. “God may have given the human race free will, but he gave soulmates fate. No matter how much you want to change fate, you can’t, and it’s fate that binds the three of you together. It always has. It always will.”
CHAPTER 22
Heaven blinked away the heaviness forming in her eyes each second she stared out the window. Rain continued to beat against the roof, the multitude of droplets building a rhythm that resembled buckets pouring water. It coupled with the tiny pieces of hail hitting the window, each pebble clicking the glass pane, threatening to leave a crack behind.
She turned her eyes from the window, passing over her husband when she did. Stretched across the chaise lounge in the corner, his dark hair contrasted with the cream colored fabric. The slow rise and fall of his chest hinted to the deep sleep he was in, as did his energy.
Relief filled her at the thought. He wouldn’t be stressing over the chaos unfolding around them or watching her every move like he had since he returned to the bedroom. Guilt spiraled within her for neglecting him. She knew he was worried about her. That concern extended to the tiny life inside her that carried part of his essence, as well as hers.
The baby was fine, short of the mild contractions she experienced during the struggle, earlier. She hadn’t meant to put their child in harm’s way, but she couldn’t leave Layne. Everything in her soul said she had to stay with him. Good thing she had listened too, since his convulsions stopped the second she sat beside him.
As if the thought of losing Dylan didn’t constantly weigh on her mind, now she had to worry about Layne too. The baby would be added to that list once he or she arrived. If she couldn’t figure out a way to balance the stress, she’d be no use to anyone, least of all mankind.
Easing her head back to the bed, she rested her cheek on the edge of Layne’s pillow, mere inches from where his lay. He hadn’t moved, nor had he showed any signs of regaining consciousness. She touched her fingertips to his cheek, stroking a short line that led to the curve of his jaw.
Still curled on her side, she snuggled closer to him, tucking one arm under his, placing the other near his chest. Her lips hovered not far from his, the blood that stained them earlier, long gone. She did her best to extend her body heat to him for a change. His skin felt clammy against her palm, which was better than the iciness it had right after he’d collapsed to the ground. She hoped it meant he was beginning to heal, especially since Spencer had removed the arrow. All they needed now was the Healer.
Yeah…the Healer, the one who was supposed to arrive at the house a couple hours after they did. She was late, almost an hour late, and the longer she took to get there, the more her tardiness decreased Heaven’s level of faith in her abilities. Was she so sure of herself that she would risk Layne dying? That type of confidence was rude, plain and simple, not to mention dangerous. She’d give the woman a piece of her mind when she did arrive.
Her worry continued churning. She inhaled a deep breath, using it to disperse the tightness in her chest, tightness that formed each time she thought about losing Layne. The crisp, fresh scent of his cologne faded hours ago, though a tiny section of his neck still smelled of it. She drew in another breath, holding it deep in her lungs while focusing on the weak thrum of his energy.
“Open your eyes,” she whispered below his ear. “Please, Layne. Please open your eyes and look at me.”
Nothing changed. Not his energy, not his breathing, not his silence. For something that brought peace to many people, the quiet room had her on edge. She heard every sound within it, like the soft snoring coming from her husband and the hail clicking against the window. If she listened hard enough, she could probably hear the irregular beat of Layne’s heart or the sound of hers breaking.
“Quit being stubborn,” she continued, touching her lips to his ear. “If you can hear me, please come back to me, Layne. You can’t leave me. Not yet.” Her shoulders quaked as she fought against sobbing. She took a deep breath, and then another. Her lungs worked air in and out until she felt her throat unclench. Then she brushed her lips to his ear once more. “There’s still work to be done, things to learn, words to say. I have to talk to you again. I have to tell you…”
She didn’t know what she was going to tell him because she didn’t understand any of the emotions constricting her heart. He had to make it through this. The alternative was too unbearable. She’d do anything to bring him back, even tell him how much she cared.
A rumble of thunder drowned out the sound of the door opening. If she hadn’t been facing Layne, she wouldn’t have known her father had walked into the room. He brought a white coffee cup to his lips, taking a slow sip as he gazed toward Dylan and then toward the bed. Their eyes met in an instant and he smiled.
“The Healer is on her way. We lost connection before she could say where she was, but I know it should be half an hour, maybe less.”
Pushing up on her arm, she took care not to jostle Layne when she scooted her back against the headboard. She stroked the side of his face once more and then gazed at her father. “She’s already late. What is taking so long?”
Remorse fluttered in his energy. “I didn’t want to tell you at the time, but she flew in from California.”
The news frustrated Heaven, though she understood why he kept it a secret. She’d fallen to pieces the moment she saw the arrow impaling Layne’s chest. That didn’t change on the trip home, even if she’d managed to silence her wails to sobs.
Her father eased onto the corner of the bed near the footboard. She noticed what looked like a newspaper tucked under his arm, which wasn’t surprising. He always drank coffee and read the paper in the mornings. Had for years.
He trailed his eyes over Layne, lingering on his face. She didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched, as though he were in deep thought. His energy confirmed he was. Curiosity twisted within him, along with patience and concern. He’d had the same look in his eyes when they’d spoken in the car about her concerns with his intentions.
“I know that look,” she confessed, drawing his attention to her. It returned to Layne right after. “Can you hear his thoughts?” Her father nodded, though he showed a great amount of reluctance in doing so. “What is he thinking?”
“It’s nothing bad, Heaven.” He turned his head in Dylan’s direction, giving her husband a grim expression before he faced her again. “He’s thinking about you. He senses your presence.”
She wondered if that meant Layne heard her begging him to wake up, to come back to her. “Is he getting better?”
Her father stared harder, though she couldn’t tell if it was because he was concentrating on Layne’s thoughts or avoiding her question. He held the same quizzical expression for a few more seconds. The flow of his energy pulsed with just as much inquisitiveness. When the tension she expelled reached its peak, his eyes made it to hers.
“He isn’t thinking about anything but you, so I can’t tell by his thoughts if he’s getting better. I will say this much. The fact that he hasn’t had another seizure is
encouraging. I think your presence is keeping him stable.”
She hoped she was doing something for him after he’d sacrificed himself for her. Funny how she knew it would come to this, that the part of him he tried to hide, the part of him impassioned by her, is what saved her life. No matter how much he pretended not to care, his actions said much more.
“Is everything okay?” The grogginess in Dylan’s voice had her turning in his direction. He pushed himself into an upright position and placed his feet on the floor. He remained seated on the chaise lounge, his elbows leaning against his knees as he stifled a yawn.
“Dad and I were discussing Layne, how he hasn’t had any more seizures. The Healer should be here within thirty minutes.”
The intensity of Dylan’s stare had her squirming against the mattress, even if he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were on Layne. “Good,” he mumbled, staring at his friend long enough to increase the anxiety in his energy. Then he looked toward the floor. “Hopefully, he’ll make a speedy recovery.”
Try as he may, he couldn’t hide the irritation he felt for her Keeper. She didn’t expect any less, not after the way she’d reacted to Layne’s attack. He had every right to be upset with her, but not Layne. Her Keeper hadn’t asked to be shot with an arrow. He was doing what he was created to do—protect her.
It was her father who dispersed the tension building between them. He stood from the corner of the bed, making his way around to the side where Dylan sat. “I know you are dealing with a lot right now,” he began, as he removed the newspaper from under his arm, extending it toward Dylan, “but I think there’s something else you need to see.”
Dylan pressed his fingers to the edge, drawing it to his lap. The second it unfolded, his energy shifted. Strong waves of anger beat within him. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
His eyes flashed to hers as he flipped the front of the paper in her direction. She noticed the spotlight photo in the center of the page. It was the third time she and Dylan had appeared in the paper together. The last two instances focused on one thing—the fact that she had a ring on her finger. The former, her engagement ring; the latter, her wedding band.
“Fucking paparazzi,” Dylan grumbled as he turned the paper back around. A crimson shade flushed his cheeks when he exchanged looks with her father. “Sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said—”
“Save it,” her father snorted, waving Dylan’s apology away. “I said the same when I saw it. It’s all over the Internet too. Why was the press there?”
“I don’t know, other than someone in the bar made a call. Layne was on stage performing with a local band when we got there.” He didn’t hide the irritation in his voice, irritation that remained in his energy since the moment they found Layne behind the drums. “You know what this means, don’t you?” He waited until her father nodded before looking at her. His jaw tightened and then released. “My father will come looking for us. If the Internet articles don’t grab his attention, this paper will. It’s like a neon sign flashing the words here we are over our heads.”
“But it’s a national newspaper,” she added.
“Doesn’t matter. It still says we were spotted in Cleveland. He knows your family is here. He’ll make the connection.” He scoffed at another thought and clenched his hand into a fist. “We’re not even including the fact that Raphe is real. Now that we know, I question if he’s working for my dad. Either way, my dad will be here.” His dark hair shimmied as he shook his head, stealing another peek at their friend. “Considering where Layne is, I think we need to get you out of Brightsville, Heaven.”
Her stomach sank lower, churning as much as it was burning. She didn’t want to fight with her husband, not after neglecting him all morning. But if he tried to make her leave, he’d have one hell of fight to contend with.
“I am not going anywhere. We can’t move Layne, and I’m not leaving without him.”
His eyes twitched tighter as his nostrils flared. “Even if it means I’ll lose you and our daughter?”
She had her lips parted, ready to blast back, but the weight of his words hit her. They’d joked around before about the baby being a girl, but there was no humor in his words this time.
“Daughter?” She pushed her way off the bed, using the nightstand beside her as leverage. Once her feet hit the carpet, she stepped closer to the chair, eyeing her husband as he slowly stood. “I thought you said you didn’t know.”
“I—I did say…damn it.” His lids snapped shut, face pinched tighter. Regret quaked within him when he opened them again. “I’m sorry, Heaven,” his shoulders slumped as he exhaled. “I didn’t want to tell you, but I had to get your attention. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you shouldn’t have, but it’s too late now.”
“What is all the commotion up here?” her mother asked as she rushed into the room. Delia was a step behind. She lingered in the archway, with Spencer right behind her.”
“We saw our picture in the paper, Anna. My dad will see it too. It’s just a matter of time before he shows up. I need to get Heaven out of here before he does.”
“You can’t do that, Dylan,” Her mother insisted. Heaven watched her cross the room, moving around her father so that she gained Dylan’s full attention. “For one, it’s better to stay together until we sense a threat. Second, we have to see what happens with Layne. If my daughter’s presence is keeping him stable, taking her away would mean a death sentence for him.”
“Keeping her here means a death sentence for her and my child. ”
“You mean our daughter,” Heaven sneered.
He turned to her, mouthing the words, I’m sorry before hanging his head. “Let’s just wait and see what happens with the Healer. When will she be here?”
“She’s right here.”
An unfamiliar voice resonated from the hall. Heaven glanced at the doorway, watching Delia and Spencer move into the room. A woman stood just outside the door, her blonde hair lay in waves around her face. The rest was pinned in an updo. Pale green eyes surveyed the room as she stepped inside, followed by someone else. A man who stood a few inches shorter than Heaven’s father kept in step with her. Both looked to be her parents’ age, and there was something oddly familiar about the woman. Something about the shape of her eyes and the pout of her lips made her—
“Layla?” Dylan’s voice rang with the question, his eyes locked on the woman approaching the edge of the bed. “What are you and Dane doing here?”
She exchanged glances with Heaven and then turned to answer. “We’re here for our son. I have to heal him.”
The news had Heaven dropping to the edge of the bed. The Healer was none other than Layla Perry, Layne’s mother. That meant the man standing behind her was Dane, Layne’s father. She wasn’t sure what abilities he had, nor did she have time to ask. Layla was jerking a bag off her shoulder. She laid it on the bed by Layne’s legs, unzipping it as fast as she could.
“I understand he fell in the line of duty.” She kept her eyes on the bag, pulling out candles. The first four were white; the last two were purple and magenta. When no one responded to her question, she glanced up, taking turns meeting each set of eyes staring back.
“He was protecting me, if that’s what you mean.”
She narrowed her eyes in Heaven’s direction, scanning her from head to toe. “Then that makes you my son’s Seeker.” Once Heaven nodded, Layla handed her one of the white candles, along with the magenta. “Set these on the nightstand behind you.”
As Heaven gripped the thick pillars in her hands, Layne’s mother placed another white one and the purple one on the opposite nightstand. She turned back to the bag, digging out a set of golden chalices. After laying them on the bed, her hand returned to the bag. It rustled around until she pulled out a bottle of water first, and then a container of salt.
Placing one of the chalices between her candles, she filled it with water, and then turned to the remaining one. A stream of white granules poured f
rom the salt container into the other cup. She handed it to Heaven when she’d finished, along with a lighter. “Put this between the candles and then light them. I’ll do the same here.”
Heaven wasted no time in placing the cup on the nightstand, lighting the white candle first, the magenta last. When she turned back to face Layla, she noticed her leaning across the bed with another white candle in her hand. “Light this one too, and let it crown his head. Be careful not to spill the wax.”
Layla stood straight and walked toward the end of the bed. She motioned for Heaven’s father to join her, handing the candle off to him before lighting it. “Keep this one below his feet.”
Her father nodded, stepping to the footboard a second later. Layla returned to her spot opposite Heaven. She leaned over her son again, trailing her fingers over the tape securing his bandage. Her finger caught the edge, rolling the adhesive from his skin. The blood-drenched gauze loosened a second later, but Layla didn’t pull it free. She worked it back and forth, tugging a little until it worked itself loose.
Dylan’s energy zipped around Heaven, drawing her eyes back to him. He faced the bed, staring at the open gash in Layne’s chest. For the first time since Layne was shot, he had a genuine sense of concern for his friend. Guess the reality of the situation had caught up with him.
Curling her legs to her side, she leaned closer to Layne’s head, holding the candle less than a foot from the top. His energy pulsed in a slow, solemn rhythm, yet no amount of heat filled it. It was void of emotion as well.
Curiosity got the best of her. She looked at the wound in her Keeper’s chest, and then her gut twisted in complaint. It was a miracle it wasn’t infected. Of course, with all the blood, both dry and fresh, covering most of his chest, an infection would be hard to spot.
Layla stretched her arms forward, cupping her hands like she would for water. Then she flipped them, palm down. She positioned them above Layne’s face, though she never touched him. With a slow, sweeping motion, she worked her way down his body, keeping her hands a couple inches higher. Her eyes fluttered shut when she reached his feet and started back up. The pulse of her energy felt warm, nothing like Layne’s but more like a cozy fire. Most of it emitted from her hands.
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