Page 63 of A Curse On Black Lake (Black Lake Gothic Cowboys #1)

Chapter forty-eight

Killian

Waking up to pee, I trudge into the bathroom trying to be as quiet as I can. When I finish doing my business, I flip the light off before opening the door. Still half-asleep, I trudge back to bed and slip under the covers, reaching for Eliana.

She’s not there.

My heart seizes, and I touch her side of the bed. It’s ice cold. It’s not half-warm as if she woke up to run to the bathroom.

“Eliana?” I call, getting back out of bed.

“Eliana?” I call again, looking in the hall bathroom, and her room.

That’s odd.

My heart struggles to beat as panic builds, searing the ventricles, as I look around the house. Hurrying down the stairs, she’s not in the kitchen, and I realize Tiny isn’t in the house.

Why did she go outside?

Her boots are still by the door. Maybe she couldn’t sleep, and she’s sitting on the porch. I check out front, and she’s not there either.

Dread curls in my stomach. I grab my boots, throwing them on, and reach for the flashlight and pistol I keep hidden in a drawer.

I can go about this in two ways. If the asshole that’s been stalking her has her, I’ll give myself away.

If she’s out on a walk, then she’ll know I’m looking for her.

But my gut tells me that if she walked out the door, Tiny followed, regardless if she asked him to or not.

Quietly closing the front door behind me, I stop and listen — nothing but crickets and tree frogs.

Flipping my flashlight on, I head down to the barn.

The bright moon shines through the thinly clouded sky, muting the intensity of the light.

I jog around the perimeter and check inside the barn. She’s nowhere to be found.

My stomach lurches as my mind flashes the images of women found around Black Lake. It can’t be her. I won’t let it be her.

The only thing I can think of is to get on a horse and start looking. I saddle Daisy, who is not happy with me right now, and head out towards the wooded part of the property. I didn’t see any signs of her in the open areas, so maybe she went towards the woods, or was taken there.

Forcing deep, even breaths into my lungs, I pull myself into a familiar calm similar to when I was a captain.

I’ve been in a few firefights, on top of seeing the depravity of what humans do to other humans, so a calm detachment is utterly necessary to do the job.

In order for me to find her, I have to keep my head.

I whistle, hoping Tiny comes running. I know the other dogs probably heard me, so they will come too, but if Tiny comes, hopefully he can lead me to her. I didn’t train him this way, but he’s smart. I can only hope he’ll understand.

Trotting towards the woods, I keep sweeping the flashlight back and forth looking for any signs of her.

But there’s not a single clue, as if she disappeared.

Please, dear God, please don’t let it happen.

A few minutes later I hear a bark and spot Tiny’s large, white body running through the woods. I heel Daisy into a canter in the direction he’s coming from.

He comes up to me and stops, but shifts back and forth on his feet as if he’s excited about something and wants to show me. Moonbeam comes up to me, and I’m sure the other dogs aren’t far behind.

“Come on, Tiny, find our girl,” I tell him.

As odd as it sounds, I think he understood me.

Tiny turns tail and goes into the woods, in the opposite direction of the lake.

Moonbeam happily follows him, and I trail behind on Daisy and slap my back for the tenth time from the mosquito bites.

I didn’t even think about putting on a shirt, too concerned about Eliana.

It feels like we go a couple of miles following Tiny to a small, open meadow in the middle of the trees.

Tiny barks and a bone-deep, dead of winter cold make my bones feel brittle.

To my right, there’s a nearly translucent woman standing off to the side next to a tree.

She makes eye contact with me and lifts what looks like a mangled hand, and points.

That’s when I see her, lying there in the t-shirt she went to bed in, unmoving, surrounded by Death Flowers.

“Eliana!” I yell.

I lurch off Daisy, running to her, ignoring the ghost woman.

Dropping to my knees, I check her pulse, hoping and praying it’s still beating and … it is. Strongly. Yet, her body is ice cold. It could be because she’s outside, and it’s chilly, but it’s not that cold for her to feel this way.

I move the flashlight to her face, and her eyes are wide open. But she’s not looking at me. She doesn’t blink at all.

“Eliana?” I reach for her hand, and it’s limp. Renewed panic fills my blood and coats my bones. No.

As hard as I tried to remain calm and find her, I can’t stop the fear from bubbling up. Needing to double-check myself, I rest my ear over her chest, and listen to the beat of her heart.

I pass my finger under her nose, and she’s breathing fine.

“Eliana.” I call for her, but she doesn’t move.

I shake her, but no response. She’s never been like this to my knowledge. The Spirits will grip her, but she’s never froze like this before.

Why is she out here?

Did she come out here and then drop? What if she’s sick? What if it’s the curse? If I’ve learned anything, it doesn’t discriminate. It takes whoever it wants whenever it wants. Did something else do this to her? Is that possible? Then again, anything is possible in Black Lake.

Knowing what I know now, I can’t discount anything.

What if she’s paralyzed, and she has no way of telling me? Her heart may be beating, but is she there?

“Eliana,” I say again, and shake her shoulder.

Nothing.

I kiss her cool lips.

Still nothing.

“Come on, baby, please,” I beg, pulling her into my lap.

She’s like a rag doll, limp in my arms, completely unaware of what’s going on around her.

“I can’t lose you, I can’t lose you, you found me again. I was lost, Eliana, until you found me floating out to sea. Don’t leave me,” I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Please don’t leave me too.”

She lays there in my arms, her blue eyes still open, with a glassy look to them, like they do when she’s listening to the Spirits, but how do I know this is them? How do I know they are responsible?

I don’t, and it’s ripping me apart inside. I can’t do anything to help her again. And I feel completely useless. The last time I felt this was watching my father take his final breaths. There was nothing to say. There was nothing I could do. But that can’t be the case here. I won’t let it. I can’t.

Afraid to move her, and nervous about the predators out here, I decide to take her home.

I inspected every inch of her exposed body.

No cuts, bruises, scrapes, or visible breaks.

I gently close her eyes and lift her into a fireman’s carry.

I use all my strength lifting her limp weight onto Daisy.

She shifts unhappy about it, but takes it nonetheless.

I don’t know how I do it. Maybe it’s survival mode, but I’m able to get her off from around my shoulders to my front so she’s sitting across my lap with her head resting on my shoulder.

Urging Daisy on, I hold on to Eliana with one hand and handle the reins with the other as we make our way out of the woods.

We go all the way up to the house. I figure out how to wiggle myself off of the horse and not drop Eliana. She’s still unresponsive, and I want to scream, but I need to keep my head.

Daisy won’t go anywhere, so I leave her next to the porch and carry Eliana into the house. Placing her carefully on the cushions, I slip back outside and I take the saddle and bridle off of Daisy.

Setting it on the porch, I go back inside. Indecision wars within me, unsure if I should get her in the truck and take her to the clinic, maybe the hospital? But I’m not so sure the hospital can help her. I have a feeling the only one who would know what to do is her Grams.

My lungs clench with lack of oxygen, and I know I won’t breathe right until she comes back to me. I scrutinize her face, hoping for a blink, a sigh, anything to tell me she’s in there. But I get nothing. It’s as if she’s Sleeping Beauty, only I’m not the prince to wake her up.

Useless, I am utterly and completely useless. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know anyone I can ask. Blinking away burning tears, I sit on the sofa and pull Eliana in my arms, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest and begging God.

“I’ll get over my issues and go every Sunday.

I’ll be a better man for You, for her, for anyone I come into contact with.

I’m begging You, don’t let her leave me.

It’s not time. We’re getting to know each other.

We have a life to live. I haven’t … I haven’t told her how I really feel, and I’m begging You to give me the chance to do that,” I say and push her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

For hours, I hold her in my arms. The sun begins to come up, and she’s still unmoving, but her heart still beats strongly under my hand.

I stare at this woman I’ve begun to fall so deeply in love with, and can’t comprehend the possibility that I’d have to live without her because I forgot what life was like when she wasn’t in it. That’s all past. She is my future.

“Come back to me, come back to me,” I whisper to her.

“Please,” I whisper.

I keep whispering, begging, anything to get her to respond. I drag my hands through her hair over and over, and press small kisses on her cheeks and forehead. Maybe my touch can wake her up. I’d do anything to bring her back to the land of the living. She’s all that matters to me.

Then she blinks, her eyes clear, and she gasps as if her breath was stolen.

“Thank God,” I mutter, choking on tears. I hug her to me, and she shifts in my arms stiffly.

It takes her a second, but her body relaxes, and she bursts into tears. “I just want to be free. I want to be free!”