Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (14 page)

Rayne stirred slightly, snuggling deeper into the blanket, and a soft moan escaped her throat as she settled again.

The sound lit a fire in his groin, and he knew he had to get out of there, fast. Using his inhuman speed, he was in the hallway and trudging down the stairs almost instantly. He headed straight for the front door. A walk seemed like a good idea. He could certainly use the fresh air.

Chapter 11

The morning sun drifted through the sheer window treatments and laid a warm kiss on Rayne’s cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and slowly took in the foreign bedroom. As much as she liked it, she still missed her own bed. Lazily sitting up, she rubbed her face and pushed her long hair out of the way. She glanced around the room, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the brightness.

What time is it?

She turned to the clock on the nightstand and was shocked to see it was nearly ten AM. She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t slept that late, or that well, for that matter, in quite a while! Was it because the nightmare hadn’t come to her last night?

What had changed to make her feel better? Was it the extra security of the house, the comfort of knowing a little more of the truth and being a little less confused, or was it that Camden was close by, and she, without a doubt, trusted him to protect her?

At that moment, she didn’t really care. She was enjoying the well-rested feeling and thinking how much she could enjoy getting used to it. Pushing the covers back, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stretched. The first thing that entered her mind was the magnificent bathroom connected to her room.

The night before, Rayne had come back to her room, afraid that she was on the verge of crying, and the last thing that she wanted was for Camden to see her that way. The sudden, overwhelming knowledge of how her grandfather had lived the last twenty years was the final straw that toppled her ever-growing pile of emotional turmoil. She had decided that it would do her some good to shower.

When she’d walked into the adjoining room, the sight had nearly taken her breath away. Sand-colored granite and ceramic tile were everywhere, including the monstrous, walk-in shower. It sported multiple showerheads and was complete with a digital keypad to control the water pressure and temperature. A large porcelain tub sat in the corner, with windows on each side and long cream drapes at the edges.

After discovering the Taj Mahal of bathrooms, she no longer had been in the mood to shower. However, now, well-rested and calm, she most definitely was.

Grabbing some clothes from the dresser, she entered her idea of Heaven and took her sweet, precious time pampering herself. It was some time later before she emerged clean, fresh, and relaxed. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed a little time to herself.

Just as she crossed the room, her phone on the nightstand lit up, signaling a new text message. “Camden” flashed across the screen.

That’s funny…I don’t remember putting his number in my phone.
She shrugged off the thought and grabbed the device.

“I have a limited supply of treated blood left. I’ll be spending my days in my room away from the sun until we have a solid lead.”

Before she could reply, another message came through.

“You have free reign of the house, but please don’t go outside. If you need anything or just get bored, feel free to stop by my room. I don’t sleep. Last room past the study.”

Rayne couldn’t fight the goofy grin that plastered itself to her face as she tapped out a reply.

“Ok. Going to raid your kitchen. I may drop by, but don’t count on it. Your house is huge and there is far too much to get into.”
She ended the message with a smiley face and sent it. She reread the message and immediately regretted sending it.
Did I just flirt?!

What was she thinking? This was not the time or the place to be searching out potential love interests, most certainly not of the vampire type!

She slapped her palm to her forehead and tossed the phone onto the bed. All she could do was cross her fingers and hope that he didn’t think she was a total dork. Running her fingers through her auburn locks, now curl-free after an extended amount of time with a straightener, she watched as the phone lit up again. A swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she imagined herself stomping them down.
Stop it.

She quickly skimmed over the message.

“If you get bored, the study has a computer if you feel like doing some research.”

At the end of the message was her returned smiley, but she didn’t reply. She wouldn’t let herself. This would do nothing but get her into trouble if she wasn’t careful, and she definitely didn’t want to get burned.

Rayne placed the phone in her pocket and left the privacy of her room. Venturing downstairs to the kitchen, she searched out an apple and began her own private tour of the house. It was rather creepy when it was silent and deserted. Fruit in hand, she crossed the foyer and main entrance to the parlor. She hadn’t been to this side of the place before, and her curiousness got the better of her.

She stepped into the mahogany-paneled room and was reminded of the gentlemen’s clubs from old mob movies. She wasn’t aware that people actually put them in their homes.

Well, not people…vampires.

Even thinking the word felt weird. Would she ever get used to all of it being real? Would this newly-uncovered species be a part of the rest of her life, or was it just a passing phase?

She was intrigued and apprehensive all at the same time. She wanted to know more, but was afraid of what it could mean for her future. Would it be one of those top-secret things, and once you were no longer useful, you magically disappeared? Should she be more afraid than she was?

Circling the room, she examined all the artwork and furniture. She couldn’t imagine Camden actually spending time in it. This room was designed for hitmen.

And with that thought, came another. What had Camden done for his four-hundred some odd years? He’d been alive during the more interesting parts of history, World War II, the Prohibition era, the Great Depression. Where had he been when all of that was taking place?
Maybe he was a part of the mob at some point.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and turned to leave the parlor. Climbing the stairs, she made her way toward the study. Down the upstairs hall, Rayne stood in front of the door, her hand on the handle, and took a deep breath. She knew this was something she had to do if she wanted her life to return to some semblance of normal.

She braced herself and opened the door, the smell of old books and leather filling her nose. A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she imagined her grandfather sitting at the desk and looking up with a smile as she entered. Her heart warmed at the thought, and her fingers subconsciously found the spine of a book. She watched as he leaned back in the chair, his hair greyer than she remembered and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

One by one, her hand moved from tattered binding to tattered binding, reveling in the sensations and memories each one stirred. She could actually hear the chair squeaking as he pushed away from the desk and stood. She turned the corner, fingers never leaving the books, and watched as he moved around the desk. A smile slowly parted her lips, and a tear welled at the corner of her eye.

Grandpa…
She mouthed the words and stared in disappointment as he vanished just as quickly as he’d appeared. Rayne shook her head to clear the remnants of the vision and let her hand fall to her side.
What was that?

She wasn’t sure what was going on with the nightmares or these hallucinations she seemed to be having, and whether or not she should be, she wasn’t scared or bothered by them. Maybe the nightmare was a little scary at first, but she was accustomed to it by now and knew exactly what to expect. Her imagination’s manifestation of her grandfather actually had been comforting. It made her feel as though he were with her, watching over her.

She exhaled forcefully and let herself plop down into the desk chair. Silence filled the room as she racked her brain to think of anything that could possibly help their situation, an overheard conversation, a visitor out of place, anything. But her mind was blank.

She placed her hands flat on the desk, feeling the grooves of the wood. Her fingers spread wide and she felt a rather large indention. Upon closer inspection, she realized that it was a compartment. Digging her fingertips into the crevices, she tried to pry it open. With no luck, she began to search for a button that might unlock it.

A chirp from her phone startled her. Pulling the device from her pocket, she knew that it was either from Layla or Camden, and she was secretly glad to see that it was the latter.

“Under the right edge of the desktop.”

Rayne stared at the message, hesitating for moment before running her fingers under the overhang. To her surprise, she found a button. Pressing it, she watched as the compartment began to rise and a computer monitor flipped open in front of her.

Her eyes widened as she looked at the phone, then glanced around the room. In the corner behind her, she noticed a small camera tucked into the recess of the bookshelf. As if on cue, another message chirped.

“Yes. I’m watching you.”

Something stirred in the pit of her stomach. Was she excited? Did the fact that Camden was watching her make her anxious? She smirked to herself and typed a reply.

“Can you see this?”
She put the phone down and held her middle finger in the air.

CHIRP
! Another message.

“That’s not nice…”

Rayne’s heart skipped a beat. If she wasn’t nervous before, now she definitely was.

Her fingers skillfully glided over the buttons of the phone, typing another message, but she didn’t send it. She couldn’t. Messing around with Camden was dangerous territory, and not only physically. She’d been so long with no one but Layla to depend on, she was afraid to get too close to anyone else. She could very easily get used to having him around, and in turn, fall very quickly. A few days in, and already she was aware of a growing fondness for him. She didn’t know if she could handle that along with everything else right now.

She scrubbed her hands over her face in an attempt to clear her mind.
This is bad. VERY bad.
She rested her fingers on the keys of the computer and contemplated what information could possibly help their situation. More than anything, she was looking for a distraction to get him off her mind.

She opened the Internet and typed “Martin Alexander Slade” into a search engine. She selected the first result from the list and waited as an old news article loaded.

It showed a picture of the house she remembered from her childhood. Next to it was another, taken from the same angle, but the house was in ruins. Piles of ash and soot lay everywhere amongst the smoldering rubble. Small plumes of smoke still billowed from the freshly-extinguished fire.

It seemed almost surreal. In twenty years, she’d never thought to do any research on the death of her grandfather. There was never any reason to suspect that his death was anything other than the truth. It had been so matter-of-fact that she never questioned it. She never needed to.

The article went on to tell of an electrical fire that seemed to have started in the bedroom, due to a frayed lamp wire that sparked into a rack of magazines. It said, “Martin Alexander Slade, a fifty-seven-year-old accountant for Legacy Pharmaceuticals, was presumed dead after house fire.”

Rayne’s stomach churned. She knew that what the article said wasn’t true, but it might as well have been. He’d been dead to her all the same. It didn’t change the heartbreaking vision she had, that the man she’d loved not just as a grandfather, but a father, had gone through that.

Even knowing the truth, she couldn’t get rid of the image. Of course, when you’ve believed one thing for twenty years, it wasn’t easy to change it overnight. Collecting herself, she left the article and returned to the search screen, this time typing in the name, “Dr. Harry Schultz.”

The screen flickered to life and pulled up more results than she was expecting.
Guess I better start at the top.

The first link pulled up a document on Legacy Pharmaceuticals. It talked about the breakthrough medical technology they’d engineered in the management of blood diseases. It then went on to outline some of Dr. Schultz’s achievements, awards, certificates, and degrees. At the very end, it told of his final works.

“The brilliant mind of Dr. Harry Schultz had been working on, at the time of his death, never-before-seen advancements in the curing of blood illnesses. In 1994, Dr. Schultz and his team were in the first stages of testing a new type of drug that showed promise of completely extinguishing these diseases.

The medication only made it to the initial testing phase, and unfortunately, was denied human trials. The FDA expressed concerns about the formula’s rapid development, and required that further testing and re-formulation be done.

Shortly after receiving this information, Dr. Harry Schultz was killed during a mugging, just outside of his home in Seattle, Washington.

The fate of his life’s work is ultimately unknown. It is speculated that all documents, samples, and tests were destroyed by the doctor himself.”

Rayne sat back in her chair and mulled over everything she had read. It wasn’t anything that Camden hadn’t already told her, but it somehow felt more real all the same. Her stomach fluttered and did a somersault at just the thought of him. Mentally slapping herself, she shook her head. She wasn’t fifteen and hormonal anymore!
Get yourself together!

Pushing away from the desk, she made her way to the far corner of the room where some particularly old-looking books sat on the shelf. Her fingers gently caressed the worn leather and damaged fabrics of the bindings. One book stood out more than the rest and looked familiar.