Since the elevators were out of service, the four flights of stairs were a workout that I would've been happy to have worked without. I saw the police caution tape stretched across the elevator doors as we towed Michael down the hall.
Once inside Caleb's suite, we lugged Michael into his bedroom and dropped him on the bed. He looked half dead, lying face down with his mouth wide open. His hair fell loose and draped over the side of the bed. I always wondered why he didn't cut his hair, but it was a pretty walnut brown and felt cool to the touch. I removed his shoes and put a blanket over him, and by the time I looked up, I noticed that I was the only conscious person in the room.
It didn't surprise me that the door to Caleb's bedroom was open. I poked my head inside, following the negative energy thickening the air. Caleb had a large room with a king size bed, an adjoined bathroom, and sitting area. It was dimly lit with neutral, unisex beige carpet, walls, and matching curtains that danced in the cold air from the opened window. Caleb sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. He knew I was here, but he was too deep into his dark world to care.
“Are you okay?” I asked, still standing at the door.
“No. I'm as far from okay as one can get. I am in complete and direct opposition to okay. I am the antithesis of okay. I am un-okay.”
“Um . . . okay. Sorry I asked,” was all I could say after that reply.
When I stepped into the room and closed the door, he sprang off the bed and went to the window. “Just one holiday, one night, could I just have a good time and not have someone die, end up in the hospital, or kidnapped? One fucking night!” he yelled out to the black sky.
His fists slammed against the window sill and the impact cracked the glass and plaster. The air shifted around his body, so strong and violent that I could see it travel across the room in a wave of turbulence. Pictures fell from the walls, chairs and lamps tipped and clattered to the floor; pillows flew off the bed, and anything that wasn't nailed down had been struck by the gale.
It reached my side of the room with enough force to push me back a step. As it passed through me, I gathered that it wasn't just the momentum that took my breath away, but the energy itself. It was rage, pain, frustration; all the things that summed up Caleb's current mood.
I surveyed the disaster area, happy that I didn't have to clean it up. I'd never seen anything like it, not from Caleb, not even on his worst day. This left no doubt that there were some shady dealings afoot.
“Capone?” I called out.
“No, it's still me, Sam. I'm just really pissed off.” He hunched over the window, his hands gripping the sill for balance.
I let out a deep breath in gratitude. The last thing we needed was Capone showing up. That was a whole other can of BS that I didn't want opened. I took a seat on his bed. Caleb's mood wasn't going to get any better, so I decided to tackle an issue that's been simmering on the back burner for weeks. “While we're on the topic of Capone, I'll be honest; this X-Men thing you've got going on has me a little concerned. I know you're upset and all, but how much have you fed tonight?”
He turned to me wearily. “Sam Iâ”
“How much?”
“Five,” he mumbled.
“Five girls? Directly?” I took his silence as a yes. “That is way over the daily limit, dude. Do we need to have an intervention?”
“I'm just trying to hold on to my mind right now. I just saw my brother get shot and Angie's daughter get kidnapped. And all the while I hear Olivia's words. She's right, you know? Everything I touch I destroy. Even you. You were normal before you met me.”
“Uh-huh, that's nice. Back to the feeding,” I began, refusing to join his pity party. “This has been going on long before tonight. That inferiority complex of yours is making you a power whore, and that power comes at a price. Do you wanna be an incubus? Is that your target goal? Because I already have one of those hunting me down and I don't need another.”
“What I want,” he began through gritted teeth, “is for no one else to die!” He inhaled deeply, paused, and pushed the air out in a long, shuddering breath.
Correction: It wasn't a breath. That was a sonic shock wave of anger. The air thickened into invisible water rippling from one wall to another then bounced back to its source. This happened twice before the wrinkles smoothed out and the room came into clear focus again.
“All right, that's it. Forget it. You're a grown ass man and I'm not your momma. Do whatever the hell you want. Just do me a favor, don't wreck my new car or shape-shift into any of my classmates when you turn into a demon, okay?” I turned to leave the room.
“Sam, wait, please. I'm sorry.”
“Well, you can go and be sorry by yourself. I've got enough blood on my hands.” I showed him both of my stained hands to show that I meant it literally. I stepped inside the bathroom and slammed the door for good measure.
I took in the décor, which only reminded me that I was far from home. The bathroom was spacious and modern, with earth toned tiles in the shower and on the floor, chocolate cabinets, and circular bulbs lining the top of the sink mirror. A stack of plush towels rested on the counter against a raised porcelain sink in the shape of a bowl.
Watching the water turn pink around the drain, I thought about the angry Cambion pacing behind the door, trying his best not to destroy more furniture. But if this was how he coped, who was I to judge him? Emotions were running pretty high tonight and we wouldn't accomplish anything by turning on each other. The body count was climbing and his family was in shambles, all because of obsession and power, power that he was gambling his soul to acquire.
While drying my hands, I recalled what Tobias said tonight. He mentioned something that was done to him and Lilith, something we should remember. Was he talking about the blackout? Then I remembered what Mia told me at the party. I looked around the space for my phone and then cursed at myself for leaving my bag upstairs in Angie's suite. My hand was on the door, ready to go get it, when instinct told me to check inside my top. Just like Nana, I had a habit of storing items inside my bra, including my cell and the body spray bottle of oil I'd taken earlier. I scrolled down the display and searched for the notes I took at the party, but the self-e-mail was gone. I checked my history of sent mail, which was wiped clean of any evidence that the message was sent.
This couldn't have been chalked up to drunk-texting; I was stone sober and coherent enough to operate my phone blindfolded. But then I wasn't the only intelligent being in the room. I didn't ask Lilith if she deleted the e-mail. It could've been a simple error on my part, but the slim possibility of underhanded deeds had my back up. I just knew for certain that I was sick of her hiding info from me.
Everything kept coming back to that day, back to her. I was tired of waiting for the pieces to fall into my lap. People were dying and I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me.
I gripped the counter and screamed in my head, “What is wrong with you? Don't you care about anyone but yourself?”
No response.
My eyes fell on the bottle on the counter. It was less than half empty, maybe two teaspoons at best, but it was enough for me to do what I had to do. I twisted off the spray cap, and without a second thought, I threw my head back and chugged. I pursed my lips tight and held the oil in my mouth and breathed through my nose. I leaned on the counter and focused my attention on the enemy in the mirror. I knew she would hear me.
You have one shot, demon. Come clean or we're both going down. Tell me everything, and I mean everything.
Maybe this was a fatal flaw on my part, but spite was my preferred weapon. She knew I wasn't bluffing, which was why I couldn't feel her moving. I had her where I wanted her, where she should've been all along. If she tried to take over, I would swallow. If she made any sudden movement, if she gave me a report that I didn't like, I would swallow.
I waited for what felt like years for a revelation as saliva collected in my mouth. Then the corner of my vision began to soften and I felt a slight pressure on the back of my head. The room began to move in a swinging motion as music and the sound of a truck engine roared in my ears . . .
14
I've never heard the song on the radio before, but I can tell Tobias likes the tune by the way he sways about as he drives.
The windshield wipers part the downpour and dance in the exact rhythm. Nothing is chasing behind us but the sun and nothing lays ahead but empty road and opportunity. There are no yellow and white lines on this road, but miles of cobblestone and brick bridges rich with history. It's so romanticâour great escape.
I have no idea where we're going, or what we'll do for food and shelter, and I don't care. He mentioned something about “friends in low places,” but I can't be bothered with the specifics. A bit of me hopes that we can camp outside under the stars where I can feel the cold against my skin. I can scarcely recall what cold feels like, but I know how it makes Samara uncomfortable, how she prefers dry heat over frost. I have to see what all the fuss is about and experience life without a biased opinion.
Brutal as it seems, I have no regret about taking over. If anything, I feel gratitude. I rejoice in this cramped vessel that she takes for granted, and I covet the treasures that she considers flaws. Underneath all her strength, Samara's just a child, ignorant of her gifts and frightened of her power. Such a waste of potential.
“I like your hair better when it's down,” Tobias comments from behind the wheel. I can feel him watching me again, each glance heavier and more heated than the one before. Whenever he stares too long, the truck drifts to the shoulder of the road before righting itself again. After all this time, I still get under his skin.
“I like it too,” I say and comb the springy curls through my fingers. Samara's hair smells sweet like something edible, another sign of her innocence.
“How long do you think you can hold on?” he asks.
I turn to look at his perfect profile. His exotic features never fail to take my breath away and the supernatural energy traveling under his skin only enhances it. His tan complexion, the dark fall of waves that touched his shoulders speaks of a life before his fall from grace.
I place my hand on his knee. The touch makes him smile and his gaze settles on the wet road ahead of us. “I'm not sure, but I'll hold on for as long as I can,” I promise, and though I mean it, I know it won't be long enough.
His smile fades. “This can't go on, Lilith. Something's gotta give here. You need to make a choice.”
“I've made my choice,” I assure him.
“Then why is that demon mutt still alive?” he asks. “You said you'd take care of it, but then you turn around and feed him my energy. Whose side are you on?”
“I'm on mine,” I reply. “I have to play this right. Samara is more spiteful than Nadine could ever be. Do you really want to be shut out for another three years? She's my vessel and I will protect her, even from herself. She loves Caleb and I won't have her deteriorate like Nadine did.”
He chuckles. “She's a fiery one, isn't she? It drives me crazy. It's all I can do to show restraint.” He licks his lips and his eyes grow heavy at the thought of her.
“I know. She's perfect.” I smile with genuine pride. From the first time Nadine saw her, I knew Samara had spirit. She lifted some of the sadness from Nadine and leaked little cracks of light through the dark. She's so alive; sometimes it's too much to take at once.
Tobias sneaks a glimpse at me. “You love her, don't you?”
I look to the window. “Succubae don't love, Tobias. We consume, and on those rare occasions, become consumed,” I reply. “Which is why you can't kill Caleb. I underestimated her feelings for him; she nearly went insane when he was in a coma.”
“All the more reason Samara and I should mate,” he argues. “I could give her anything she wanted. Money isn't a factor. We could be immortal, be together again, and you wouldn't want for anything.”
“Except a daughter,” I say.
“Except a daughter,” he repeats in a flat, exhausted tone. He rubs his eyes wearily, knowing this argument all too well. Time hadn't changed my feelings on the matter and nothing ever will.
“You always had a zeal for children.” He chuckles again, but this time the humor is gone.
“And you don't? You don't want to replenish our race, ensure the lineage carries on? Your kind is an endangered speciesâmaybe fifty left in the world. We need to rebuild, but we can only reproduce through a human body. I told you before; I won't convert until I have at least one offspring. For that to happen I need Samara's consent and the only male she desires is Caleb. He is useful to us.” I reach over and run my fingers through his hair.
He quivers at my touch. His frustration flows in ripples around the small space in the truck.
None of this is fair. I was attached to two beings and I can have neither, not yet. Not completely. What is a marriage without a honeymoon? What is a meal without dessert? What is a succubus without her freedom, her feminine power?
“You're right; we need to cover all of our bases. A child would ensure that we carried on, an exit strategy,” he agrees just as something large slams behind us.
Tobias's arm braces across my chest before my head hits the dashboard. The impact whips me back against my seat.
“You okay?” Tobias asks, his focus divided between me and the road ahead.
I nod and rub my throbbing forehead. That collision must've shaken something loose, because Samara is gaining consciousness. I can feel her rousing and swimming to the surface again. How much of our conversation did she hear?
I don't have long to consider it as the other vehicle rams into us again. Over and over, it hits the truck then veers into the opposite lane. Tobias steps on the gas, but we can't lose them. We ride side by side on the lane, past the speed limit and at the risk of killing ourselves. I recognize the black Jeep. Oh no! How did he find us so fast?
The Jeep swerves and barrels into Tobias's door in an attempt to push us off the road. Tobias clutches the steering wheel as the tires slip against the wet pavement. When he gains control again, he strikes back by charging the Jeep. The truck crosses the unmarked line to get to the other lane. Before Tobias has time to stop, the Jeep jerks to a halt. The tires screech, fighting for traction against the slick pavement. It soon comes to a complete stop behind us.
Meanwhile, we drift farther and farther into the left lane, coasting its shoulder, then fall into a shallow ditch.
Tobias presses on the gas, but the wheels spin and slip against the mud. No gear can get us out of this mess. “Dammit! We're stuck. We have to go on foot.” He glances at the rear view then to his window. “We can hide in the woods.”
“I can't. Samara's coming back. I don't have much time.”
He holds my face in his hands, his eyes wide and frantic as he says, “I'm not leaving you, you hear me? I'm not losing you again.” A door slams, and our attention moves to the rear window. The Jeep is parked a few yards behind us and two men leap out with Caleb. It has to be Haden and Michael.
Tobias takes my hand. “Come on, they're coming.”
“I can't.” I pull away and try to concentrate on Capone. I need to center on his emotions and know his motives. What little I discover makes me jump. “I have to go with them!”
Tobias's body shakes at my words. “No!”
“We knew this was a longshot. Just go,” I plead. “Caleb's brothers are with him and they're armed. They won't hurt me, but they're here to kill you.”
“They'll have to catch me first,” Tobias says as his body begins to dissolve before my eyes. I reach out and touch the translucent shape of his face, which passes through my fingers like smoke. I can't lose him, not like this. He's right; if this is how it will end, they would have to catch him first. Maybe I can distract them.
“Samara!” I hear Caleb's voice and approaching footsteps.
I open my door and dash in the direction of the woods.
“Samara!” Caleb yells. “Stop!”
I race deeper into the forest. Rain and wet leaves slap my face, but I have no time to enjoy its texture. Trees and branches cross my vision until an overcast of foliage hides the sunlight. I can't find Tobias, but I can still feel him nearby.
“Samara! Where are you?” someone yells, but I can't tell who it is.
A moving swatch of black appears to my left, then another appears to my right. Twigs snap. Leaves rustle. Tiny specks of color blink in the forest. They're gaining on me fast, cutting through the brush, trying to cage me in. They move as I do, and they bound over bushes and fallen logs.
I run faster, harder, pushing this human body to its limits. It can't fly like I want it to and it can't dissolve into specks of matter and mingle with the ether. Tobias told me what it was like to ascend, and maybe one day I will know the experience for myself, but for now, I have to keep moving. I can't let them find me, no matter how futile it might be. Caleb will always know where I am and he would comb the earth to find his mate. He's as much a part of me as Samara, and in this moment, I hate him.
The trees begin to thin out and I can see the sun again. Further on, the forest gives way to a small field swept clean of trees, leaving a graveyard of stumps and stacked logs as ruined tombs.
A sharp pain hits my spine and I stumble and lose my speed. Samara's will digs into me, pulling herself out of her shallow grave. She's fighting hard to weigh me down, to stall me, but I have to keep moving. Just a little bit farther, just a little bit longer. I need more time, but she isn't in a generous mood.
“Lilith!” Caleb's voice echoes in the forest.
I search the trees, but my vision begins to swell again. Dizziness overtakes me and the world pulls away as it always does.
“Oh no. Not yet, Samara, not yet.”
I'm not strong enough, but I'll fight for one more second, needing more than anything to stay here. I have to keep going, even if I have to crawl. Just a little farther. Just one . . . more . . .
“Lilith, stop, or I swear I'll shoot you in the leg!” he threatens.
I obey, but I keep my back to him. I don't want to look into his eyes. I know what I'll see if I do. “Why do you always ruin everything?” I ask.
“It's a gift.” He moves closer. Leaves and grass shuffle under his feet. “Where is Tobias?”
“He's gone.”
“You're lying,” he says from somewhere to my left. “I'm too close to you and he can't stand it. He would never leave you alone any more than I would.” He drifts around me slowly, carefully and I sense a change in his demeanor, something raw and primal that I didn't recognize until now. The darkness inside him did not originate from Caleb, but something living in Caleb's nature that should never be exposed to light. Capone.
I look in his direction as he emerges from behind a tree. His damp hair sticks to his face; his wild gaze shoots through the wet strands. The hostile vibe in the air suddenly thickens. But what concerns me more is the weapon in his hand, a sharp, treacherous tool I've seen many times before, specifically on Halloween night. I have no doubt that he knows how to use it. Capone knows what Caleb knows, they've been together since birth.
I stare at Capone, noting the difference between him and his master. There isn't any, only the bright glow to his eyes that hurts to look directly into.
“You expect me to stand by while you hurt my mate? Haven't you and your family taken enough from me?” I ask.
He stops. “You blame me for Nadine's death. You want revenge, I get it. Is that why you poisoned me?”
I flinch at his words. “How do you know about that?”
“The energy Samara fed me in the hospital had a lot of interesting memories with it. Like the one with anointing oil and a cup of hot chocolate. I thought it was Samara's doing at first, but when she mentioned her blackouts and Tobias, well, things added up. I took the memory from Caleb. He can never know you betrayed us.”
He circles around me, slow and methodical in his attempt to lure me in. His glare pins me in place. The anger lights his eyes in a radiant swirl of lilac, the brightest I've ever seen them. And yet his eyes give the false impression of heat, because the emotion rolling off his body is ice cold. I deserve this hostility, but he needs to see my side of things. I've been robbed of something I can never get back again.
“You don't understand. Tobias is . . . he was my mate. I want that feeling again, to belong to someone. It's different with you and me; we don't have that connection.”
“And where does this leave Caleb? Where does this leave me?”
I've never cried before, not in a human way. It prickles the eyes a little and contracts the lungs a bit, but it doesn't quite express pain as we know it. Worst of all, Capone can feel all of it right now. Not even this can I keep from him.