Page 10

Coma Dream or Nightmare Reality?

Z ayne is quiet. I think he’s lost consciousness, but I can see the rise and fall of his chest. Khaosti hunkers down, then tosses Zayne over his shoulder and straightens as though my six-foot friend weighs nothing.

Without another word, Khaosti heads off around the house with Zayne dangling over his shoulder. I hurry after them.

Maybe I should tell him to leave. And call an ambulance. And the police. And tell them… what? That we were attacked by shadows with red eyes that vanished in a puff of smoke when bitten by a werewolf? A hysterical urge to laugh builds up in my throat. Maybe I’m back in my coma and this is all a dream.

I have a strange feeling Khaosti wouldn’t take kindly to me suggesting I stay here. And I don’t really want to. He’s saved me from those things twice now. Maybe he won’t bother a third time. Maybe he’ll decide I’m not worth the effort. Besides, I still want to know whatever he knows. Did Khaosti know me before? How could I forget someone who looks like him?

I follow him down the drive and through the open gate. The same black SUV he drove last night is parked at the curbside, skewed as though it stopped in a hurry.

Khaosti opens the back door and slides Zayne inside, so he sprawls half-sitting, half-lying on the back seat.

“Should we do something? Bandage his neck? Stop the bleeding?”

Khaosti glances at me over his shoulder, irritation stamped on his features. I suspect he already thinks I’m more trouble than I’m worth. “When we’ve put some distance between us and this place. Unless you want to stick around and see if any more of your friends turn up.”

He’s got a point. There’s no room in the back, so I climb into the front passenger seat as Khaosti gets into the driver’s side, and we’re moving within seconds.

I peer over my shoulder. Zayne’s eyes are still closed, and his face is pale. “Will he be all right?” I ask.

“Of course he won’t be all right—he’s been bitten. But there’s a chance he’ll survive. Let’s hope you or he don’t live to regret that.”

I want to ask what he means. He talks as if I know way more than I do. And I realize that maybe he doesn’t know about my memory loss. I’ve probably given him enough clues, but I get the impression he just thinks I’m a little—or a lot—dim. Which means, he’s likely unaware that I have no idea who I am. Never mind who he is.

My head hurts. Actually, when I think about it, everything hurts. I went down pretty hard. The knees of my jeans are ripped, and the palms of my hands are scraped raw. I’d been too wound up about Zayne to feel it. Until now.

Freaking ouch.

I cast a sideways glance at my new protector. I sense he’s a little reluctant in the role, but he’s doing it anyway. Which is just as well, because Zayne would certainly be dead if he hadn’t arrived when he did. I suspect I would be as well.

Except…

I think back to what happened. It had all been so chaotic and my mind had been completely in panic mode. But the thing that had grabbed me hadn’t tried to rip my throat out the way the other had done with Zayne. It had been dragging me away, and I don’t have any bite marks. They’d wanted me alive. A shudder runs through me.

“What did those things want with me?” I ask.

His gaze flicks from the road ahead to me, a line forming between the savage slash of his brows. “I don’t know.”

Well, that wasn’t much help. I’d been hoping for more. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know. Why were you there? Last night, you said you’ve been waiting for me. You have to know.” Otherwise, I’m no better off than I was before. Worse off. Now someone wants to… what? Kill me? Kidnap me? Sell me into slavery? Somehow, I don’t think those creatures were going to tell me I was a princess and return me to my rightful place in a golden palace.

“I know a little. Not enough.” He blows out his breath. “Why did you leave this morning? I thought we had an understanding.”

“Your friend wanted to put me in cuffs. Then you left me alone. And you freaking locked me in!”

“I’m aware of that. Which was why I expected you to be exactly where I left you when I got back. How did you get out?”

I chew on my lip while I consider whether to tell him about the unlocked door and the note and money. I’m not sure how much I want to reveal at this point. Maybe I have an ally in his camp. Or maybe he has an enemy, which might or might not be the same thing. But he has saved me twice now, so he probably deserves a heads-up.

“Someone unlocked my door. And they left me a note saying I was in danger. My money is on your friend, Trystan.”

His head turns slowly to look at me in the dim light. I’m not sure whether he believes me or not, but he doesn’t say a word and finally turns his attention back to the road.

I lean back and gaze out into the night. We’re driving through the countryside; I’m not sure where, and it’s too dark to spot any landmarks.

I want to go home; except I’ve never really had a home. How pathetic is that? My eyes sting, and I blink. I might be pathetic, but I refuse to look it in front of this man.

This all just seems so wrong. I always wanted to know who I was and where I came from. Now I can’t help wondering… Do I really want to know?

We don’t speak again during the drive, but Khaosti doesn’t strike me as the chatty type. I just want to stop moving and get Zayne seen to. I consider suggesting we head to a hospital again, but I sense it will be a waste of time. And for some reason, I trust Khaosti—in this, anyway. Not in everything, but I think he knows what’s best for Zayne, even if he did want to put him down like a rabid dog.

It makes me wonder what’s going to happen to him. What are the side effects of this bite that are so horrendous that Khaosti considers death a better alternative? I swallow and think about asking, but I can’t take it at the moment. I’m just happy right now that Zayne is alive.

But please God, don’t let it be that vampire/werewolf thing where if you get bitten, you turn into one. I really do not want Zayne to turn into one of those black wraiths. My stomach roils at the thought.

After about an hour, the car halts in front of a set of metal gates. I haven’t seen another house for miles. I don’t think getting home from this place will be as easy as catching a bus. Besides, I can’t leave Zayne, so I’m stuck here until he can get around. And who knows how long that will be?

The gates slide open without any visible action from Khaosti. We go through and along a drive lined with big oak trees. Finally, we come to a halt outside a house that looks like a small version of a stately home. I mean, it’s big, but it’s not Buckingham Palace or anything. A wide stone stairway leads up to a double door made of wood and iron. It opens, and a man appears. He’s quite old, with white hair and a lined face, but he seems sprightly enough.

Beside me, Khaosti gets out of the car and moves to the back. He opens the door, leans in, and drags Zayne out. He puts him over his shoulder again and turns to the new guy.

“Sire,” the man says, giving a small bow.

What the heck? Sire? Like in royalty or maybe like in dad? But no way is this guy Khaosti’s son. Something else to add to the list of things to think about.

“Brown.” Khaosti nods. “Is Sheela here?”

“She arrived five minutes ago. She’s waiting in the library.”

Khaosti turns to where I’m still sitting, fixed in place in my seat. I can’t seem to move. He frowns. “Are you coming, or do you want to sleep in the car?”

Maybe. But I also need to see what happens with Zayne.

I give myself a little shake and force myself to move. Holy crap, everything hurts. I swear I can hear my bones creak as I scramble out of the car. Khaosti raises a brow, but then turns and heads up the stairway to the front door.

I follow. He’s got a great ass. Then I shake my head. My mind must be rambling, because the fact that his ass looks super-hot walking away from me really should not be top of mind right now.

I need to remember that—at least some of the time—that super-hot ass is all furry with a big waggy tail. Not that it had been wagging much.

Inside is a wide hallway, with red walls and paintings and stuff I’ve only ever seen in movies. I don’t have time to appreciate it, though, because Khaosti’s already disappearing. I trudge after him and into a beautiful book-lined room that I assume must be the library. I stop and stare because this really is my idea of heaven.

Khaosti is lowering Zayne onto a wide leather sofa. I hurry over and crouch down beside him, taking his hand. I squeeze, but he’s out cold now, though his skin is warm to the touch.

“Let me see to him,” a woman says from behind us. I hadn’t even realized anyone else was present; she’d been so quiet and still. I presume she’s the doctor. I hope so, but when I turn around to face her, I realize she doesn’t look like any doctor I’ve ever seen. She’s beautiful, with long dark hair and the same golden eyes as Khaosti. She also appears young, maybe a little older than me, but not by much.

She gives me a smile. It seems genuine. And since I have no clue what to do to help Zayne, I have to trust these people. I shift out of the way, not far, and lean against the back of the sofa. My legs feel wobbly, but I can’t leave him yet.

Kneeling beside him, she brushes the hair from his face, then turns his head to reveal the ragged wound in his neck. I gasp—it looks horrendous—and nausea churns in my gut. We should have taken him to a hospital. I wrap my arms around my waist, instinctively trying to stop myself from falling apart.

The woman looks up at my gasp and smiles again. “He’ll be fine.”

How can he be?

She dips a cloth into the bowl at her side—where did that come from?—and places it over the wound. A sweet smell wafts up and swirls around my head, and suddenly my mind is clearer. She whispers some words in a language I don’t recognize, and the air around her glows. When she removes the cloth, the wound is gone, as if it had never been there.

What the hell?

I don’t know why anything surprises me anymore.

“Is he all right?”

She rises gracefully. “He’ll sleep for a while. But he’ll be fine when he wakes up. At least physically.”

“What do you mean? Is he going to be crazy or something?” Please don’t let him go crazy. I don’t have enough friends in my life to lose them.

“He’ll have things to deal with. Changes. Sometimes, if the mind is weak, it can’t cope.”

“Please tell me he’s not going to change into one of those things that attacked us.”

“No. That won’t happen.” She studies me, staring into my eyes; then hers widen, and she turns to Khaosti. “What is she, Khaos?”

Khaos? Somehow the name suits him. And isn’t it obvious what I am?

“I have no clue.” Khaos shrugs.

“And she knows nothing?”

Another shrug. “I’m wavering between either nothing at all or she’s a good actor.”

“Er… I’m still here. What’s going to happen to Zayne?”

“He’ll go through a change,” Sheela replies.

“What? Like he does—” I nod my head toward Khaos. “Into a wolf?”

She turns back to Zayne and touches him lightly on the forehead, closing her eyes for a second. “I don’t know. It’s unclear. But we’ll find out when the time comes.”

Holy crap. What have I done to Zayne? This is my fault.

Taking a step toward me, she holds out her hands. I place mine in hers, and she does the eye-staring thing again. Her nostrils flare.

She releases me, then picks up the steaming bowl at her feet and holds it out. The sweet smell fills my nostrils and seeps into my mind. I place my hands in the water, and the pain fades away as though it never existed. At the same time, the rest of my aches and pains vanish. I lift my hands; they’re clean and whole. I look up into her face. “Are you a doctor?” I ask.

She smiles. “No, I’m a witch.”

Of course, you are. The words hover on the edge of my tongue, but I bite them back. On the off chance this isn’t a dream, I’d better start watching what I say. So I don’t say anything at all.

I glance at Zayne. He already seems better. The pallor has gone from his skin, and he looks like he’s sleeping rather than unconscious. I heave a huge sigh of relief, and a little of the guilt that was clogging my heart dissipates. He’s alive and I’ll worry about the other thing later. I’m not even sure it’s real. Time will tell.

“What did you find?” Khaos asks. He’s talking to the “witch” and ignoring me like I’m not there. It’s rude.

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. “Nothing.”

“So she’s human?” From the tone of his voice, it doesn’t sound as though Khaosti has a high opinion of lowly humans.

She shrugs. “There’s something, but it’s buried so deep I can’t reach it. And I’ve never heard of that before. What’s the story?”

My ears perk up at this. Am I going to learn something interesting at last?

“Not a lot,” Khaosti replies. “I was told to take her to the Crone.”

Who told him? And who is the Crone? I have so many questions that I don’t know what to ask first. Still, I have an idea he won’t answer anyway. I don’t think Khaosti trusts me.

Sheela looks up sharply. “Did this come from Khendril?”

At the sound of the name, something resonates inside me. Did I know this person? I concentrate on the name, but the feeling seeps away, and I grit my teeth in frustration.

Khaosti gives a short nod.

Her eyes flash, and a flush tinges her cheeks. “He’s a traitor, Khaos. You need to accept that. He betrayed us. Abandoned his post. Look at everything that’s happened since. Look at what happened to you. That was his fault.”

“He’s my brother. I have to believe he had his reasons for whatever he did. And I want to know what they were.” He runs a hand through his short hair. “His last contact with me was to tell me to find her.” He nods in my direction. “Keep her safe. Take her to the Crone.”

I latch onto the ‘keep her safe’ bit. That’s good news.

“The Crone is nothing but a legend,” Sheela says. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Khaos?”

He snorts. “I have no fucking clue. But I also have no choice. For some reason—” He nods in my direction. “— she holds all the answers.” His gaze drops down over my body, then back up to my face. “I just need to find the best way to pry them out of her.”