INK: Vanishing Point (Book 2) (26 page)

The comb drags through the tangles left
in my hair, and my head is sensitive where the stitches are, but the
wound looks healed. That tells me that I must have been in that place
for a week or more. I search through the bathroom drawers for some
small scissors and hit pay dirt when I find a first aid kit under the
counter. I’m a little squeamish, but I’m not going to the
doctor. I can get these out myself. Carefully, I snip each stitch and
pull them out.
Well, my head
didn’t open up and let my brain fall out, so it must be okay
.

Next, I need to look at the gashes on my
arm and belly. I put some antibiotic cream on the cuts, then pull
them together with butterfly bandages and dress them with gauze pads.

“Haven’t you become very
capable?” An oily voice invades my thoughts. I ignore it and
continue to tend to my injuries. “Oh come now, won’t you
play?”

“Go away,” I answer without
looking up from what I’m doing.

When I finish dressing the last scrape,
I pack up the first aid kit and place it back under the counter.
What
next?
I ask myself standing
in the doorway. The bed is neatly made and inviting.

I climb under the heavy comforter and am
surrounded by all things Aiden: the woodsy-clean smell of the bed
that is unequivocally him. My grip on the covers tightens and the
emotional dam bursts in me. Hopelessness fills me, and it feels like
I’m back in that place. As if I’m weak and unable to take
care of myself, but I’m not. I
can
take care of myself.

Does sadness really make me weak? No.
Grieving for the loss of someone who I love doesn’t make me
weak. Hiding my tears would be weak. Apologizing for my sorrow would
be even weaker. I completely let go, and my body shakes as the hot
tears sting my face and soak the pillow. Images of Aiden play on a
loop in my memory. I try to only conjure only the good memories, not
the angry or disappointed ones. If nothing else, I did love him,
faults and all.

Our first kiss, the way his lips felt
against mine, far too wet and too forceful. He was so awkward. The
first time he told me he loved me. I made fun of him and told him he
was a dork. A laugh pulls its way through me, dragging with it a
piece of my soul. The first time we made love, it was so wonderful
and pure. That moment. If I could freeze it and hold it in my hand…my
kingdom to relive that memory. Each of the sweet things Aiden did. He
would always wake up before me and greet me with a big smile. He
never treated me as if I was some fragile long-stem rose. The grief
slowly turns to adoration for what Aiden and I had. With that under
control, I feel like I can confront my own demons. Realize that
feeling all of that didn’t make me weak or fragile, that I am
strong.
Let’s see
someone else survive what I just did
.

It’s time for me to make some
serious changes and take charge of my life. Nobody else has to live
this but me, and if I’m going to be dealing with hardship, I
can do it on my own without any complications. I let that roll around
in my thoughts. “No complications,” I say as I drift off
to sleep, still inhaling Aiden’s scent from the comforter,
wishing I could bottle it and take it with me. I know that things are
about to get a hell of a lot better now that I’m back in
control. But first I will rest.

Shay Dreaming

“Hey.” Gabriel’s
smooth voice penetrates my sleep. He’s rocking my hip. “Babe?
You’ve been sleeping for a long time; are you okay?”

The covers nestle around me, and I don’t
want to move, because movement hurts. I grumble a reply, “I’m
fine.”

He shakes me again. “Come on, I’m
worried about you.”

In my head I just want to scream at him
to shut the hell up and let me bask in the comfort of Aiden’s
bed. I’m growing more irritated by the minute; has anyone ever
heard the phrase “let a sleeping dog lie?” Wait.
Aiden’s
bed
? My eyes spring open and
I spin to see Gabriel in the bed with me.

“What the hell are you doing
here?” I’m furious. This feels like a heinous violation
of some social code that can get me locked up in karma jail for
years. There’s got to be something written somewhere about
sleeping with another guy in your ex’s bed when he’s…dead.
My head is spinning and Gabriel is staring at me bewildered.

“Babe, calm down.” He puts
his warm hands on my shoulders, pulling me into him. I notice he’s
not wearing a shirt.

Completely torn between ogling his
chiseled form and being disgusted by this situation, I close my eyes
as I pull away from him. “Gabriel, you can’t be here.”

“Why not?” He tugs me in
close to his warmth. “You need me.”

That phrase. I’ve been hearing it
for months, weeks, years, hell, maybe even decades. Fuck that. I
don’t need anyone, and I’m damn tired of being told I do.
“I don’t
need
you.” I spit it out, hateful.

He reaches toward me. “Honey,
listen; you’re tired and probably starved. I just want to be
here for you. Make sure you have everything you need.”

“Look, Gabriel.” Grudgingly,
I get out of the bed. “I don’t want you here, not right
now. I want you to go.”

He peels the covers back; to my relief
he’s wearing pajama bottoms. He meets me on my side of the bed
and puts a finger under my chin to lift my gaze to his. I fight the
urge to fall into his gray eyes, and McNab’s words rattle
through my mind again.
Is the
whole world in heat?

“I know you are rattled right now.
What you just went through is something no one should ever have to
endure.” He pushes a stray hair behind my ear. “I just
want to be here
if
you need me.”

“Gabriel, until I know exactly
what all of this is, exactly who you are and what part of my twisted
psyche created you, I’m going to go it on my own.” Taking
two steps back, I continue. “I ended up here for a reason, in
this room.” I motion to the room around us.

“Yes, my room.” His eyes are
trying to pierce through my crazy. “Of course you came here, so
I could help you.”

“This isn’t your room.”
I belt it out, insulted.

“It is, though.” He believes
what he’s saying.

“No.” I look around, and the
room changes into a small room with cracks in the walls and bizarre
art pieces hanging, touching corner to corner. The lighting of the
room changes from warm honey hues to blue desperation. The
temperature drops several degrees, sending a biting chill through me.
“How?”

“Get back under the covers. Let me
get you some tea.” He points me toward the bed, rubbing my arms
to chase away the cold.

In my confusion I become compliant,
until I’m about to climb into the bed. I stop and whisper,
“Gabriel, what are you?”

“I’m everything you need
when you need it.” He smiles and lands his lips on my cheek.
“I’m all you’ll ever need.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
“Oh yeah.”

Aiden’s memory wafts through the
forefront of my thoughts. I look at Gabriel; there’s something
off
.
“Wait.” I stop him from covering me.

“What is it, babe?” He
tenderly holds my hand.

“I want to go home.”

“Home? You are home.” He
tries to tuck me in again.

“No, I want to wake up now.”
A wry smile rises to my lips. “I know what this is, and I’m
pretty damn sure I know how to control it now.” I lift my hand
above the covers and wave at him.

Sitting straight up, I’m satisfied
that I’m once again back in Aiden’s bed, surrounded by
his essence. I need that right now. “Huh, kinda cool. I’m
starting to get this.”

The covers poof out as I fall back into
the feather-soft bed for deeper slumber. I’m satisfied that I’m
once again on the road to self-reliance and okay with the fact that
I’m flawed and I’m going to have to muddle through it
all.

Harry

“This is my little girl that we
are talking about, not just any ‘subject’ that you have
me pursuing.” Trying to remain as devoid of emotion as I can is
rough.

“Yes, we understand. However, if
she is indeed ‘the subject,’ then we have a fundamental
problem. It would seem as though you have a conflict of interest,”
Charles answers in a confident yet slippery voice. I’ve never
noticed that before now.

“I can do my job here, but there
are some
fundamental
truths.” I stand from my chair at the conference table, and
then pace to the projection board. “Not only is my daughter not
responsible for this, but I think it’s entirely possible that
we, yes
we,
as a group have not been taking the necessary precautions in
protecting those closest to us when we are doing ‘the work.’”

“So you are to blame?” Sara
says, perking up in her chair.

“This isn’t about blame,
this is about accountability,” Derrick counters. “I’m
with Harry; Watching what has happened has me convinced we need to
work a little harder to shield ourselves and our families from ‘the
work.’”

Charles clears his throat to speak when
my phone rings. I check the caller ID. “Excuse me, I have to
take this.”

After clearing the door to the
conference room, I answer. “Hello?”

“Mr. Baynes?” Her voice is
shaky and unsure.

“Yes?”

“This is Angela, at the Roth’s.”
Her thick accent is sometimes hard to understand, but I’ve
known her for years.

“Oh yes, Angela. I’m in the
middle of a meeting; can I call you back?” What the hell is
this about?

“Yes sir, but I just called to
tell you Shay is here. She’s sleeping in Aiden’s room,
and she no looks so good.” She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What? Shayleigh is there?”
I’m so relieved, I want be there instantly. “What’s
wrong with her?”

“She pretty banged up, and she
been sleeping long time.”

“Okay, I’m going to send
someone over. Don’t wake her. But watch her. You hear me,
Angela?” I’m emphatic. I need to get Eli over there ASAP.

“And if she wakes up, give her
whatever she wants. Don’t leave her alone.” I hang up the
phone and go back into the conference room.

“Sorry about that.” I slide
the phone in my pocket. “I need to know that you are going to
devote some resources to this.”

“You’ve got our full backing
for now. But we don’t want you flying solo on this. You need a
partner so we know that your decisions aren’t…clouded.”
Derrick raises his eyebrows in anticipation of my resistance.

“I couldn’t agree with you
more.” I push my chair in. “Please send someone down,
pronto. I have phone calls to make.”

Before I get the door closed, I’ve
already dialed Eli’s number.

Eli

“McNab, is there anything?”
I ask, standing in the doorway to the guest room.

“Pitch? Anything?” McNab is
sitting in a folding chair with his feet propped up on the dresser
and doesn’t look up from his tablet.

“No, just like ten minutes ago,
and twenty minutes ago…seriously, dude, do you think I
wouldn’t tell you if something changed?” Pitch’s
tone is tired and irritable.

“Pitch,” McNab reprimands.

Pitch gets up from the makeshift
workstation he’s sitting at and crosses the room toward the
door. “Yeah, well, you’d be irritated if every two
minutes you had a different asshole asking you if there’s a
change.” He exchanges a hard stare with McNab.

McNab takes his feet down and slowly
rises to meet Pitch. “Problem?”

“Yeah, actually, there is.”
Pitch is a little spitfire, but he can’t possibly think this is
a good time. One thing McNab hasn’t been able to hide is that
he is emotionally invested in this. I’ve watched him hit
ignore
on his phone for three days straight, and his concern is rising.
Neither of us has slept more than five or ten minutes at a clip.

“Maybe you should take it outside
and get some air, come back with a clear mind.” McNab demands
it.

“Yeah.” Pitch pushes past me
out the door.

McNab sits back in the folding chair,
and I sit in Pitch’s seat, which is uncomfortably close to
where the portal was. It closed right after I came back through. The
room is normal again with the exception of what still needs cleaned
up, but there’s no longer never-ending ooze, fog or spectral
readings in the room. It’s just a room that’s a hell of a
mess. I know that McNab and Carl must blame me for not bringing her
back. But they don’t know what I saw in there. I’m not
even sure it was her.

“McNab.” I call to him
quietly.

“Yes, Eli.” McNab looks up
begrudgingly.

“What happened? Where did she go?”
I ask, afraid of the answer.

“That’s what I’m
trying to figure out. I’ve never lost one before.” He
stares at me with disdain.

“Easy McNab, this isn’t his
fault.” Carl stands in the doorway.

“Really, Carl? Because I would
have brought her back.”

“You don’t know that, I
doubt you could have. She doesn’t have an emotional attachment
to you like she does to Eli.” Carl’s tone is just shy of
scolding. “The kind of love she feels for Eli is pretty rare.
Your friendship doesn’t compare.”

My heart fills with hope that Carl can
see that. I would love to believe it to be true, but don’t we
all want to believe that about the people we love, that their love
for us is “rare?”

“I guess we will never know now,
will we?” McNab goes back to being cool and unaffected.

“Besides, what she was feeling…”
Carl shakes his head.

“Tell me more about that, Carl.
You’ve been hedging the question every time I ask.” McNab
leans forward, putting his tablet on the bed.

My phone rings before Carl is able to
answer. “Harry?”

“Eli, you need to get over to the
Roth estate. Shay’s there.” He’s winded like he’s
running a marathon.