Ice. On my forehead. My cheeks. The back of my neck. It was too cold.
Oh. Right. Dustin and Marie, and Rusty. That’s who they were. The musicians. All shot. All dead because they just happened to be where I was. Did I tell you that, Thomas? See why you shouldn’t be anywhere near me? People die. I don’t want you to die. I love you, Thomas.
My eyelids were so heavy it was an effort to pry them apart. When I did, the most beautiful face stared back at me. Why was Thomas crying? His eyes, dark pools of glistening shadows, were spilling over the blackness beneath them.
“Thomas,” I said, crushed glass lining my esophagus. “I think you need to sleep.”
The bed creaked. Whose bed was I in? I guess it didn’t matter. Thomas was here, lying down next to me.
And then he wasn’t. What happened to him? Was he sick? Hurt? Did he leave?
Panic racked my mind. Visions of him dying and me not being able to do anything about it circled in an echoing nightmare. Where was he? Where was he?
“Thomas!”
I called for him. Or maybe I screamed, I couldn’t tell. And when his hands were on my cheeks, his voice soothing in my ears, I could breathe again.
“Relax, Kaya,” he said softly. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”
Then, eventually, the storm raging in my mind and body stopped.
My teeth hurt.
I opened my eyes to see Thomas, and the anguish on his face had me bolting upright.
“What’s going on?” I said. My throat no longer had that feeling like I’d swallowed barbed wire. “Are you okay?” I reached for his cheek, half expecting him to disappear, but the cheekbone and strong jawline beneath my fingers were real. He smiled, and relief washed over me like a tidal wave.
“Shh, it’s all right.” He took my hand away from his face and pushed me back onto the pillow. “Your fever finally broke. Jeezus, Kaya, you had me worried sick.”
I shook my head in confusion and saw stars for a moment. “Fever?”
“We couldn’t call a doctor, so Georgia gave you her leftover antibiotics and—”
His voice broke. He gulped hard, and his thumb rubbed against my cheek. It brought moments back; Georgia dragging me into a cold tub while I fought with her. Thomas dressing me in a pair of pajamas and sleeping next to me. Dan hovering his moon-shaped face over mine and asking me questions I couldn’t answer. Day turning to night. Night turning to day.
“Oh my God. How long have I been—?” I didn’t have enough strength to finish the sentence.
“Three days,” Thomas answered.
“Luke!” I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and stood for a few seconds before collapsing into Thomas’s arms. “What the heck is wrong with me?” I asked dismally as he tucked me back into bed, my mouth way too full of saliva.
“You caught something nasty,” Thomas said, adjusting the blankets. “Probably when we were under that bridge. Who knows what we touched.” He rose and reached for a glass of water, handing it to me with a look that said drink.
The water felt good going down, but it flipped around once it hit bottom.
“Georgia doctored you. Fed you crushed cloves of garlic and covered you in all kinds of medicinal oils. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
It was then that I realized I reeked. Absolutely, totally, reeked.
Thomas grinned at my crinkled nose. “Yeah, you could use a bath. Or two.” He stretched out beside me, folding his hands under his head. “Maybe in the morning though, all right? It’s late. We need to sleep.”
I didn’t know if I could bear the smell coming off my skin. Worse yet was whatever was plastered to my chest had turned hard and crusty. It was some sort of yellow paste covered with… leaves?
“It’s a mustard plaster,” Thomas said, reading my mind. “Georgia figured that would help draw out whatever was making you sick. Reeks worse than the garlic, though.”
All at once I was too tired to care about anything but the wellbeing of the man who had stayed by my side. “Are you sick?” I asked.
“Nope. I don’t get sick,” he said with a sleepy exhale.
My eyelids were so heavy I couldn’t prop them up. My arms useless stumps. “Thank you, Thomas,” I said. “If you weren’t here, I don’t know what I would have done. “
“Shh,” he said, pulling the covers up to my chin. “I’ll always be here.”
It was still dark outside when I got up and showered, almost passing out twice in the process. I practically crawled back to bed because my legs were shaking so violently after. I had no strength at all. Even toweling off my hair seemed an impossible task. Thomas was out cold, and I was grateful for his warmth when I curled up next to him. I counted sheep. Counted Thomas’s deep and even breaths. And when sleep just wasn’t having anything to do with me, I resolved to be content with the comfort and coziness of the dark and the man beside me.
It was five in the morning. Birds were getting warmed up for their performances. The sun was about to break through the dark. A dog barked, and I was reminded of how Brutus sounded when he was angry, and how the birds had always ceased to chatter after, like they did now.
Thomas rolled toward me and muttered, “Who let the dogs out? Who? Who?”
I would have laughed, but the barking increased, and then Georgia was bursting into the room with sleep-flattened curls, a thin housecoat belted at her waist and pillow lines on her cheeks.
“Thomas. Thomas, get up. You must go to the other room. Jeremy’s room. Hurry!”
Thomas sat up but was still asleep. “Wha—”
“They’re here,” Georgia said, and tugged a half-asleep Thomas from the bed and shoved him out into the hall. She came back to me, yanked my damp hair into a ponytail at the back of my neck, then shoved my head onto the pillow. “Lay down and pretend to sleep,” she ordered, then turned off the light. “Don’t let them see your hand, or your eyes. Remember our plan.”
I had no idea what plan she was talking about, but I didn’t get to ask when a knock at the front door of the house rattled the windows. I searched my mind for instructions that I must have been given in a feverish fog while footfalls overtook the kitchen. All at once, I had no doubt who was looking for me.
What was I doing putting this family in danger? Putting Thomas in danger. Stupid… had I not learned from the past? What now? Should I go out the window?
I sat up, head spinning so hard I didn’t sit up too long. No. I wasn’t going out the window. I wasn’t getting out of this bed either. Georgia had told me to pretend to sleep, so I would. I was too pathetically weak to do anything else anyway.
Pulling the covers up, I closed my eyes. Georgia’s voice, high pitched and irritated, reached me loud and clear through the thin walls and heavy blanket.
“Seriously?” she was saying to whoever was at the door. “This is the fourth time you guys have been here. This is getting annoying. You’re not the police, you have no right.”
Dan quieted Georgia. And then I heard my name—multiple times. Shivers worse than when I had the fever stole through me. There was a thud just outside my door, then Thomas’s angry voice.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Someone I didn’t like the sound of returned the question. “Since I’m the one with the gun, why don’t you tell me who the hell you are?”
“I’m Jeremy. Dan’s son,” Thomas said. “I live here. You can’t just barge in like—”
My door was thrown open and the light switched on. I did my best ‘startled awake’ face, blinking at four boot covered feet, careful to keep my eyes lowered. I clutched a pillow, making sure it covered up my hand.
“You idiots!” Georgia yelled. “You woke up my sister. Do you know how long it took us to get her to sleep? Jeremy brought her home from college because she’s wasn’t feeling well, and she’s been puking all night. Coming out both ends of her something fierce. She was just finally starting to get some rest.”
I knew
the shadowy cast that would be on the men’s faces without even looking at them. Their soulless, vacant gazes were part of the outfit, and necessary for those trained to kill on demand. Since there were two of them here, that meant there would be many more outside, so if they wanted to drag me from this bed and take me kicking and screaming to the estate—they could. And considering Henry had the police under his control, no one would stop them.
“What’s your name?”
I was being asked by a guard with pants too short. His ankles were visible above his boots and his socks mismatched. I found this terribly funny. It really wasn’t, but I couldn’t help it, I snickered. Then I giggled.
“Uh… she must still have a fever,” Georgia said in my defense.
Unfazed, one pulled out his phone to take a picture of me, so I lurched forward, hung my head over the side of the bed as if I was about to throw up, and started retching.
“Oh no… Leah…” Georgia said, breezing into the room then stopping as if I was a fatally contagious, malaria-infected mosquito-zombie. “Are you going to puke again? Do you need the bucket?”
She created just enough of a stir in the air to let loose the most unpleasant smell of garlic, mustard plaster, and whatever other stench was lingering on my clothes. I didn’t have to continue fake gagging when I caught a whiff. When Georgia placed a trash can a few inches from my nose, then recoiled from me, for some reason the guards completely forgot about taking my picture and made for the door.
“If you see Kaya Lowen, you contact us right away,” one of them said when the other was already long gone.
We all waited for the front door to shut. For a car to disappear back down the drive. For the dogs to stop barking. And then we all breathed a sigh of relief.
“How did you know they wouldn’t recognize her?” Thomas asked.
Georgia was gingerly picking up my reeking clothes. “They have no idea what Kaya looks like. I figured that out when they came here the first time and thought I was Kaya. So I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Good call, kiddo,” Dan said, hugging his daughter, then he rubbed his hands together and grinned at me. “Well, Leah,” he said fondly. “It seems like you’re feeling better. I’ll make you your favorite bacon and eggs for breakfast, and you can tell me all about your courses in marine biology.”
Dan laughed all the way to the kitchen. Georgia headed for the washing machine. Thomas took his first breath in minutes, and I wondered if I might need that bucket back.
Warmed by the fireplace, we were centered around a coffee table covered in all sorts of sandwiches and cookies. Two golden dogs snored lazily at Dan’s feet, Georgia picked at her fingernails, Thomas stared distantly at the fire, and I watched the afternoon drift away. I was feeling horrible, not with sickness but with worry, and the tea Georgia brewed only made it worse. It had an earthy scent, reminding me of autumn, of the mountains, of the river and Luke. I could barely swallow it.
“Throat sore again?” Georgia asked.
I hadn’t realized she’d been watching me so closely. “No.”
My reply brought a collective sigh of relief.
“You know,” Georgia said. “I think part of your illness was caused by emotional trauma.” She eyed me from across the living room, legs folded under her and a pillow clutched to her chest. Her blonde hair was pulled up high on her head and a few strands had escaped around her temple. “Right now, I am studying a book on how your mind affects your health. It’s a big part of holistic medicine. I think you’ve gone through so much in the last few months that your brain had to shut down for a while. Makes sense to me. I can’t even imagine what you’ve been going through. It makes me feel sick just to hear it.”
Thomas had obviously told her much more of my story than I thought he had, and this was confirmed by his sheepish expression and sudden interest in his hands. I was okay with it, though. Georgia was insightful and intelligent. Had I simply judged her based on our first meeting outside the estate, I would have thought her a flighty, simple-minded teen. Not so. Medicine was her passion, specifically homeopathy—the traditional sort that treated the mind, body, and spirit. My respect for her increased by the hour, and her opinion became one I realized I valued.
“So, Luke and Oliver have been in the estate for seven days,” she said, thinking out loud. “How can I help?”
Thomas was about to speak, but Dan beat him to it, leaping to his feet and dropping a half-eaten sandwich, instantly snatched up by a waiting dog.
“No way, Georgia. It’s one thing to let Kaya stay here, but past that, I’m drawing the line. I am not going to allow you to get involved in any of this.”
Georgia bounced to her feet, too. “That will be the day you tell me what to do. You might be my father, but I am eighteen and if I want to help someone, I will.”
Whoa. I couldn’t imagine talking to Henry like that. Dan was spineless, and speechless, and under his daughter’s challenging glare, he stumbled for a reply, only to give up and plunk back down dejectedly.
Georgia eased back onto the couch, clutching the pillow. “I will help you,” she said to me, “but you need one more day of rest to get back on your feet before we do anything. Coming down with a fever again isn’t going to help matters much.”
I nodded. Thomas smiled and gave her a wink that made me slightly uncomfortable.
Georgia eyed her father’s sullen face. “So, we need to find a way to break in to the estate, get Luke and Oliver out, then get you all someplace safe.”
Logs snapped and crackled in the fire. “Basically, yes,” I said dismally.
“It can be done, Kaya,” Georgia said.
“It just seems… impossible.”
“Not at all. We just have to brainstorm. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. My momma always used to say that.”
Dan blanched, and his rocking-recliner came to a stop. “Yeah, and it didn’t work out so well for her, did it, Georgia?”
Georgia dug her nails into the pillow, heat rising in her cheeks. “It wasn’t her fault she was sick, Dad,” she said defensively.
Thomas boldly asked, “What happened to her? To your mom.”
Dan’s gaze fell to his lap, clearly uncomfortable, but Georgia cleared her throat. “Well, since Kaya opened up to us, I guess we can share, too. Right, Dad?”
“Georgia—” Dan started.
“Dad, just because you can’t talk about it, doesn’t mean I can’t.” Straightening up on the couch, she smoothed back the hair at her temples. “My mom took her own life. She got sick when I was seven. I tried everything to make her better—soups and teas, prayers… whatever my child’s mind could come up with. But nothing worked. She drank a cup of rat poison and vodka on purpose one night after we all went to bed.”
Georgia paused. It was obvious this wasn’t a fully healed wound. The room grew still. Even the fire flames seemed to freeze mid-lick.
“She took her own life?” I asked carefully.
“Yes. We have that same connection, Kaya. I know your mom committed suicide, too.”
“Is that why you are so interested in medicine?” And helping me? I thought.
The dogs were both snoring. “I’m sure it has something to do with it.”
“What was your mom sick with? Before she, uh, took her own life.”
Georgia shook her head. “She was just really depressed. Then she became increasingly violent. No one knows why. Dad took her to doctors, but they could never find the cause. They think maybe it was something genetic and the psychosis was brought on by stress. But she had always seemed so happy. It didn’t make sense.”
“Genetic,” I muttered, feeling a nudge of worry for my new friend. “Could you have this too?”
Georgia sighed. “No. Me and my brother and sister were adopted. Mom couldn’t have kids. But we were a happy family, and that didn’t seem to bother her. It was only the last two months of her life that she seemed to go crazy.”
Dan perked up. “Don’t use tha
t word, Georgia. She wasn’t crazy.”
Something about the familiarity of the conversation set my nerves tingling. I had heard this story before. Heck, I had ‘lived’ it.
“She was crazy,” Georgia said. “Why else would anyone attack their husband with a butcher knife? Or drown the dog? Or take her own life? For cryin’ out loud, Dad, she put on her Halloween costume and swallowed rat poison, on purpose. That is crazy, there is no other word for it.”
As to be expected, Dan didn’t say anything.
“Did she try to have children of her own?” I asked, feeling a knot in my stomach.
Georgia shrugged her shoulders.
“Dan?” I was on the edge of the couch, not feeling so good. “Did she seek medical intervention to try and conceive?”
“Uh, that’s rather personal,” he snipped at me.
“I know. But please, tell me.”
He eyed his daughter briefly because she was waiting for the answer, too. “Yes. Merrill couldn’t have children of her own, and we weren’t allowed to adopt more than three. After Georgia came along, we just wanted a little sister or brother for her, so we got medical help. But nothin’ worked.”
I leapt to my feet. “What sort of medical help?” I asked, tossing the question at Dan like a dagger. His eyes widened in confusion. “Uh… I dunno. Some drugs recommended by Ms. Sindra. Your dad specializes in fertility, and she said it was the best thing on the market.”
I gasped and flattened my hand over my mouth, then ran for the bathroom to hurl up every sandwich I’d eaten.
“Kaya, what is it?” Georgia’s hand was on my back until the retching stopped.
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