Fading Amber (21 page)

Read Fading Amber Online

Authors: Jaime Reed

Once Mom locked the door, she led Olivia to the living room. The girl sat on the couch and curled into herself, her eyes planted to the floor.
“Do you want some tea?” Mom asked and draped a blanket over Olivia's shoulders.
She shook her head keenly.
I knelt in front of her and rubbed her icy feet. “Do you wanna tell us what happened?”
Olivia shook her head again and leaves fell from her hair. “I didn't know where else to go. I was walking for hours and I felt you. I remembered your house and . . .” she started sobbing again.
“Hey, it's okay. You're safe here,” I said then noticed the dirt on her dress. “You wanna clean up? You can used the bathroom—”
“She shouldn't take a shower right now. Not until she gets looked at,” Mom said with the phone in her hand. “Olivia, honey, did Gunner hurt you?”
Olivia rocked back and forth and kept mumbling, “
Przykro mi. Przykro mi, prosz
mi wybaczy
. Przykro mi
.”
Mom covered the phone with her hand and asked, “What is she saying?”
I ignored her and focused on the quivering mass on the couch. “What are you sorry about, Olivia?”
“
On nie
yje
,” she muttered.
I blinked, not sure if I heard what I thought I did. “Who's dead? Gunner?”
She nodded. “I . . . killed him.”
“Oh,” was all I could say. There was really no proper response to that.
No doubt calling Angie, Mom drifted to the dining room while I continued to break Olivia out of her shock. But if I stayed in this room any longer, Olivia wouldn't be the only one traumatized.
From where I was kneeling, I caught a pale hand poking from behind the couch. I didn't need to see the rest. I knew Nadine hadn't moved or changed clothes or tried to repair the broken bone in her neck. That would defeat its purpose and lose its intended effect. This was a preserved image, where time and the wane of human memory couldn't dull its clarity.
Pressure built in my ears. The walls narrowed, the furniture slanted and melted in thick, waxy globs, but I wouldn't budge. I always left the room at this point, running scared, but I needed to be strong for Olivia's sake. I could do this.
I channeled all my energy, all my will on the shipwrecked girl in front of me and pushed back the shadows that framed my vision. This wasn't about me or Nadine, and if Lilith had any compassion in her cold, rancid heart, she would do me this one solid and make the swaying stop.
I released a long, measured breath and opened my eyes again. To my relief, everything was still. The furniture was situated in their proper places, whole and firm. The pressure decreased and the cloud of motion sickness dispersed, letting light in again. Nadine's body remained on the floor and I had a feeling it was there to stay. I could at least handle that much. I heard Mom talking on the phone. Olivia watched me curiously, as if I were a new concept for her. Maybe I was.
I placed my hand on Olivia's arm and she flinched, but slowly melted into my touch. “Can you tell me anything else?” I asked.
After a huge gulp of air, she whimpered, “He frightened me. I didn't know what he would do. He cut off my bracelet. I didn't know where he was taking me. So I . . . fed from him. I could feel his life—so much light and strength. He was strong, he fought back, but I kept going until . . .” She took a hard swallow. “His heart was skipping. He fell on the ground and he couldn't breathe. Then something came out of his mouth. Not energy . . . something else.”
I didn't need to know any more, but Mom said from the entryway, “A black mist with a gold light in the center?”
Olivia looked up at Mom, her wide eyes shot through the curtain of dirty strands. “How did you know?”
“Gunner was possessed by a demon named Tobias, an incubus,” I supplied. “It wasn't Gunner.”
“No. No, it was him. His eyes were blue. I saw it, Gunner was there . . . They were blue.”
“Maybe he was fighting it. He's loyal and would do anything to protect you. Maybe that was his way, so you could escape.” I tried to be comforting, but it sounded lame to my own ears. There was no cushioning, no padding for this particular blow.
She didn't seem to be listening anyway; she was too engrossed with the thread fibers in the carpet. “I ate my friend's life. I killed him. But I had to. I had . . .”
I didn't get much out of her after that because she totally zoned out. Whatever she went through had rocked her to the core. Worst of all, she had to resort to basic Cambion instinct to survive, the very thing she resented Caleb for.
Mom hung up the phone and reentered the room with a wet towel. She knelt down in front of Olivia and brushed the hair out of the girl's eyes. “Olivia, sweetheart, your mother is on her way. She's coming for you, okay? You're safe now.” Mom wiped Olivia's face clean and sat next to her on the couch.
Olivia's eyes fell on Mom's with such naked, earnest trust; it made my heart constrict. Olivia barely knew this woman, but she unpacked her torment without saying a word. The hurt and despair oozed out of her and slid over my skin like trickling water. And even from what I could feel, I knew it was overflow, just a taste of what was roiling inside of her. We were almost the same age, but death had a way of making people grow faster than necessary.
Mom held Olivia and rocked her and in moments, the crying had stopped. How did this woman do it? There was something about her that unnatural beings seemed to gravitate toward. She might not like Cambions or their lifestyle, but they sure liked her.
Angie arrived twenty minutes later, and had even less luck getting info out of Olivia. She didn't tell us where Gunner's body could be found or where he had taken her or whether she needed medical attention, but I figured Angie would take it from here. None of that seemed to matter as long as Olivia was all right, but “all right” was a relative term. No one was really all right after killing someone. The Cambion motto was to celebrate life, because death was a regular visitor who always came unannounced.
Wrapped in her mother's coat, Olivia stopped at the door and glanced at me from over her shoulder. Albeit brief, a small smile tugged at her mouth. I had no idea what that look meant, but I had a feeling our beef was at a stalemate until further notice. The odds of us being pen pals were slim to none, but we were Cambion siblings and that counted for something. What, I had no idea.
Mom and I watched as the car pulled away from our street. With the house quiet again, it then occurred to me that I was extremely tired; not just physically, but emotionally, mentally, and cosmically tired. I wanted to crawl into bed and die. A warm blanket and fluffy pillows were only a few feet away, but given the extra weight of sleep deprivation and stress, it could have been five miles.
What a way to bring in the new year.
“Something has to be done about this,” Mom grumbled, staring out at the street.
I stepped inside and punched the security code in the alarm by the door. “I know, but we need some sleep first.” I turned around and noticed that Mom wasn't behind me.
By the time I reached the porch, she had wandered across the street to the neighbors' lawn. She stared at the display, taking in the divine splendor of the nativity scene. As if this made perfect sense, she stooped down and plucked the baby from inside the manger.
I watched, slack jawed, as she walked back toward the house, cradling the ceramic child in her arms. It was official, the utter collapse of my mother's mental health was now complete, and though done indirectly, it was still my fault. I brought this plague upon us and there was no remedy in sight.
When she stepped onto the porch, I asked, “Mom, what are you doing?”
“It's high time someone knocked the Cunninghams down a peg or two.” Mom tucked the ornament under her arm and stepped inside the house.
“There're other ways to do that, you know. Are you nuts? I can't believe you stole baby Jesus!” I cried.
“No, I'm not nuts, just tired. Considering what happened tonight, we're gonna need him a lot more than they do right now.” Mom ascended the stairs to her room. When she reached the top of the stairs, she called out, “And you're still grounded!” which was followed by the slam of her bedroom door.
17
“C
ome on, Sam. Are you at least gonna tell me a little bit?” Mia whined, swinging from side to side in her swivel chair.
“Nope. It's personal,” I answered, then spun my own chair back to my computer. We weren't supposed to be talking during lab, but that rule, along with most of our school's policies didn't apply to Mia.
I had no idea how she knew that Caleb and I got together, but as soon as she saw me this morning she called me out—no hello or anything. She gawked at me all through first period. I kept looking for the neon sign saying I GAVE CALEB THE BUSINESS that hung over my head, because according to her, it was
that
obvious.
“Oh please, I told you about me and Dougie this summer,” she whispered, though loud enough for everyone in the lab to hear. Students turned heads, sized up Mia, then continued to type. Mr. Carver, the assistant teacher with sweat gland issues, sat behind his desk, sniffing his Wite-Out pen thinking no one was looking.
I turned my focus to my monitor. “Yeah, against my will. And you didn't just tell me, you put the event into interpretative dance.”
Underneath the tapping of keys in the room, I heard the wheels of Mia's chair rolling closer. From the corner of my left eye, I saw her crawl into view, and I could almost hear the
Jaws
theme in my head. “Come on, you can tell me. Was it weird?” she asked.
“Yeah, it was awkward, painful, messy, and then kinda amazing.” Adjectives were all she was getting out of me. For one thing, it was too weird to even explain to someone non-demon affiliated, and for another, I wanted to keep something to myself. Those few hours in Caleb's room were mine, and by nature, I was pretty stingy with my stuff. It was bad enough that every Cambion in Virginia knew that Caleb and I did the nasty, but Mia wanted a play-by-play with a sound bite.
“Yeah, it was the same for me and Dougie, but I'm glad it was him. Someone I cared about, not some random guy at a party, you know?” She had a far-off look in her eyes as she recalled some event that I could die happy not knowing about.
But she was smiling again, her eyes twinkled, and that was worth any headache. Hell, she was talking to me again, which was a miracle in itself.
“So are you and Dougie back together?” I asked, trying to change topics.
A smile split her face, no doubt prompted by the thought of the boy in question. “Yeah, kinda. You should've seen him on New Year's. He was really sweet, Sam. He took me home, right, but I was really out of it and I got sick on the way, and you know what he did? He pulled over to the side of the road and held back my hair. You know that's love when a guy helps you while you puke.”
Trust Mia to swoon over the most disgusting situations. I couldn't blame her. Caleb had some really gross habits that had my heart fluttering. “Yeah, that's true devotion.” I grabbed my book bag from the floor and dug into the front pocket for my cell.
“We're taking things slow, you know. Trust is a serious problem for us and we need to work that out.”
“I think we can all learn a little trust around here.” I looked at my phone, checking my messages.
The entire day consisted of digital correspondence from Caleb and Angie. She left me a message during first period telling me that Olivia, Szymon, and Mishka had left for Poland this morning and assuring that their next visit in the States would be more “congenial.” That was one way of putting it. Though she insisted that I stay out of harm's way, I managed to wiggle a few details out of her.
It appeared that Ruiz pulled some strings and commissioned a group of local Cambions to help retrieve Gunner's body and destroy Tobias's. Since this whole situation was under Santiago territory, it was only fair, not to mention faster, to gather fellow Cambions in the region. From what Angie had told me, there were Cambions in Florida and D.C. as well as New York, though small and with little influence. The fact that there were more of us out there, living seminormal everyday lives both comforted and disturbed me.
To add on to the agitation, demon Armageddon was taking place, and I was stuck playing spider solitaire in my computer lab and missing all the action. The wait was eating me alive. It wasn't like I wanted to be on the front lines—far from it—but the “not knowing” part was the killer.
But Caleb's recent text indicated that little action was taking place:
CALEB: still at the hospital. Haden's awake. Explain more later.
No one knew if Tobias's spirit had returned to his vessel. Olivia had seen him leave Gunner's body, so he could be anywhere. Everything was up in the air until we could get inside that storage unit and see Tobias's remains.
And that's where Haden came in. It seemed that he and his morphine drip were holding up progress. Caleb tried for hours to get him to talk, but Haden could barely keep his eyes open. He was in a lot of pain and it would be inhumane to deny him relief, but we needed answers before someone else was killed.
School was the only place where things seemed normal. I managed to catch up all my assignments and had two major tests before report cards came out. Fourth period was canceled for an assembly to commemorate Malik Davis, which doubled as a talent competition. If the guilt didn't beat me down before, the slide show and the choir version of
My Heart Will Go On
finished the job.
“. . . and I was like, ‘sure, I'd love some gum,' and that's when I knew we were just meant to be together. It's fate. So anyway, I'm gonna watch Dougie practice today. You wanna come?” Mia's voice broke me out of my thoughts.
“Uh, no thanks. I'll pass on the male erotica for today,” I teased.
“Wrestling is a competitive sport.” Mia pouted.
I slid my phone into my back pocket. “Maybe, but I'm not trying to see all his goodies in that stank outfit he wears. I see how he gets during a match: rolling on the floor, sweaty limbs intertwining, locking in a passionate embrace—”
“It's called a choke hold, Sam,” Mia disputed, rolling her neck. “Joke all you want, but my baby is
all man
.”
I had a good comeback, but the words never formed, because Mia's face started to bend and smear in swells of color. My head swam, causing me to rock in my chair. I didn't remember hitting the floor, but there were kids circled around me from above.
Mr. Carver stood over me, his sagging gut eclipsing the rest of his body. A large sweaty hand shot out and helped me to my feet. “Are you all right, Samara?” he asked.
“Yeah, I'm just a little light-headed.”
He pulled a pad out of his damp shirt pocket and straightened his glasses. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”
“No, I'm . . .” I paused as another dizzy rush kicked in again. “Maybe that's a good idea.”
“I'll help her.” Mia took hold of my arm to keep me balanced as she guided me out of the door.
I had to stop and rest against the wall and took a series of deep breaths before heading down the corridor. The world moved slower than I did; voices droned from behind class room doors, while conversations garbled around my ears as if spoken underwater. My focus remained on the last room on the right with the big red cross on the door. My eyes stayed glued to that shape even as I turned the knob.
I surveyed the modest clinic, with the cartoon characters, hygiene reminders, and corny motivational slogans on the wall. The medicine cabinet in the back was a junkie's wet dream and sealed off tighter than Fort Knox, which was pointless. The only reason anyone came to the nurses' office was if they ran out of tampons or to use the private bathroom when they had to do more than just pee. What freaked me out the most was the kitten paraphernalia that Mrs. Lafaye had on the desk and walls.
The small, ancient woman came to my side and helped me to the cot by the door. I fell on the paper-covered pillow and closed my eyes, mainly to avoid the lolcats poster on the ceiling. After some water, a box of animal crackers, and convincing Mia that I didn't need an ambulance, the see-sawing motion began to die down. I could hear chatter and squeaking sneakers outside of the door, and I pulled the curtain partition for some privacy.
“Do you need me to call a parent to pick you up?” Mrs. Lafaye asked, her voice a melodic tinkle of something that should own a wand and fairy dust.
“I think I can stick it out. School's out in less than half an hour.”
“Well, just stay here for a few more minutes, then you can go.” She moved back to her desk and feline fan club, her white pants swishing with each movement.
I grinned and reached for my now vibrating phone. I put it to my ear, knowing who it was. “Hey.”
“Hey, where are you?” Caleb asked, sounding a bit breathy and tired.
“I'm at the nurse's office now. I got dizzy in class. I forgot to feed at lunch today and I'm paying for it now.”
“Uh, yeah, about that . . .” he began hesitantly. “That might be my fault. I gave Haden some of my energy. You might be feeling the drain. Sorry about that.”
Mia poked her head in. “I'm gonna go. I'll drop off your bag after the bell. Call me if you need me.”
I waved her on then returned my focus to my call. “You might wanna give me a heads up before you do that from now on. How much did you give him?”
“Maybe too much apparently, but he's in a lot of pain. I didn't mean for you to be affected. You're so sensitive to me now; I'll have to be more careful. That's interesting.” It got quiet on the line and I felt movement over my skin, trailing up the side of my waist. I knew it was his fingers.
“Stop, that tickles,” I protested, fighting a smile.
“It's supposed to. I'm figuring out how this works. It seems you can feel me when we're both thinking about each other. I think the only exception is pain and sickness. That will come involuntarily. Other than that, concentration makes me feel what you feel. Everything.”
“Everything? Like if I have some bad chili or drink too much coffee, or get drunk at a party, you'll get sick too?” I asked.
“Yup.”
Rubbing my forehead, I asked, “So, what if I get plastic surgery or get a new kidney, will you feel the knife? Will you bleed all over the place?”
“Probably. I may have to check into the hospital too, but I won't feel pain if you don't.”
“Okay, but what if we have babies someday? Will you feel it kick or have morning sickness? Ooh, what about labor pains?”
“Uh, Sam? I don't wanna talk about that now. Can we make it to your prom first?” he derided, clearly disturbed by the idea of us being fruitful and multiplying. “We have time to learn as we go. It's not going to be easy, but nothing about us ever is.”
“True dat.” I smiled again. This was a new dimension to our relationship that we needed to explore. And there was a part of me that regretted not waiting, that we weren't ready to handle what came with this connection. But the feeling of belonging to someone so completely helped alleviate the doubt.
Memories of our time in his room had replayed in my head throughout the day, and now was no different. Just thinking about him and all his two thousand parts made me light-headed again, so I tried to change the subject. “How's Haden?”
“He's pretty delirious. Keeps talking about Mom a lot.”
I winced. “Ooh, that's not good. He might not be any use to us right now. Are you sure Michael doesn't know the combination?”
“No. Haden was in charge of all that. He's the more responsible of the two.” He snickered. “All he said was it was a six digit code. It could mean anything.”
Through the crack in the curtain, I saw a dark-haired boy standing in front of Mrs. Lafaye's desk. His back faced me so I couldn't see who it was. He mumbled something to her and she stood up. There was more pants swooshing, followed by the clinic door shutting with a decisive click.
“Sam, are you still there?” Caleb asked.
I shook my head, trying to stay focused. “Yeah, I'm still here. What were you saying?”
“Ruiz stationed a couple of guards outside Haden's room. At least we don't have to worry about Tobias sneaking up on us.”
“Good. Listen, I'm gonna stop by my house then come over . . .”
A heavy, dark green object flew through the curtain. Only when it slid across the floor and hit the far wall did I recognize it as my book bag. Someone must have gotten it out of class for me, but they didn't have to be rude about it. The curtain flew back in a whirl and I looked up to meet the angry deliverer.
I drew back and stared up at the boy in front of me. “Dougie? What are you doing here?”
He smiled brightly, the way he would when he had juicy gossip to share. But the latest rumor wasn't what he came here to reveal. Dougie's hazel green eyes had disappeared and in their place was an eerie orange-yellow glow. “Sup, Flower. We should talk.”

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