Symphony of Light and Winter (34 page)

“I don’t think I can.” I covered my face with my hands and sobbed harder.

“Sure, you can. I’ll help you.” He placed his hand over mine.

“How is your shoulder?” With my other hand, I pulled back his shirt to reveal a large white bandage. We were both covered in so much blood and not so easily identified particles of this and that.

“It’s healing. Sinclair took care of it at the hall.”

“Any risk of infection?”

He shook his head.

“What are they going to do with Cyril? His body, I mean?” He squeezed my hand tighter.

“We’re going to put him in one of the chambers for now. His body won’t decay, so we’ll have to think of long-term plans. Perhaps a tomb.”

“Chambers?”

“Yes, it’s where we’d put him until he awakens after he dies.”

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, if you like. Would you like a funeral for him?”

“I don’t know. I still can’t believe he’s gone. I keep hoping he’ll wake up or I’ll succumb to that coma again and join him.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?

“He told me in the car on the way to the hall. He cast a spell that would make certain you didn’t follow him when he died. He was worried if he died it would leave you vulnerable. Did he give you his blood?”

“Yes.” I look away from Overton, remembering how Cyril and I made love and how it would never happen again.

“That’s when he sealed the spell.”

“But I thought…I just want to sleep.” The stress high induced by all the drama dissipated, allowing numbness to wash over me.

“I know. Come on. If you’ll forgive me for saying, and not that it detracts from your beauty whatsoever, but you are a mess, my dear.”

Looking down I had more blood-soaked spots than clean ones on my shirt. I was covered in a fine dusting of Michael, and I hurt all over.

“Stanton, it hurts to move.”

“I know. Here let me help you.” He placed his hand on the collar of my shirt. “I’ll be the consummate gentleman. I promise.” He started to unbutton my blouse.

“Good thing the spell broke or this might be difficult for you.”

He slipped the shirt from my shoulders, unbuttoned it at the wrists and pulled it free.

“I don’t follow.”

“The spell. You know, whatever was making all of you crazy about me.”

He went to unclasp my necklace but I stopped him.

“No. I don’t want to take it off.”

“OK.”

Managing to unbutton and unzip my pants, I tilted my hips and he pulled them free.

Clad in only my bra and underwear, he picked me up and carried me to the shower. He placed me gently on the seat farthest from the spray, turned on the water, and adjusted the temperature.

I was too distressed to worry about modesty. I unhooked the bra and slipped out of my panties. I tried to stand and my legs gave way. Overton caught me before I hit the slate floor.

“Linden, are you all right?”

“Yes, just weak.”

Overton loosened his tie. Only Overton would wear a tie to a supernatural brawl.

In no time, he stood in the shower in his plaid boxers and lifted me.

“Come here.”

He pulled me to him into the spray and grabbed the shampoo. “Turn around. Let me wash your hair.”

I did and waited. And waited. “Overton, are you OK?”

“Linden, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but your back—”

“What’s wrong with my back?”

“Linden, you have the markings.”

“What?”

“The markings Cyril has, you have them too. They start here”—He touched the base of my spine with two fingers, and then traced two arching patterns ending at the tips of my shoulders—“and end here.”

I reached over my shoulder and felt the raised pattern on my skin. Overton ran his hands over my back, feeling the pattern. My skin tingled from his touch and leftover stimulation to my nervous system caused by Michael’s light show.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against Overton. He was comforting, familiar. His hands felt so good. The water, his caress, and a need to affirm life hit me. I pushed my hips back against Overton and found him hard and ready.

He groaned.

“Linden…”

I rubbed against him again, my mind instantly overpowered by intense lust.

He grabbed me by the hips in an attempt to hold me still.

“Umm…You want me. I can feel it.”

“You have no idea, but we’re not going to do this. Why are
you
doing this?”

My head, cloudy with desire, fueled the need to have his body pressed to mine.

“Oh, come on. I know you want to.”

“Linden, there is an ocean of difference between what my body wants me to do and what I will do to my best friend’s woman. What is wrong with you?”

“Cyril wouldn’t mind.” I wiggled some more.

“Oh, I beg to differ. Linden! Listen to me.” He turned me around, ran his hands through my hair.

“I’m listening.” I pressed myself into his chest. My hard nipples rested against the dusting of hair.

“Linden!” He reached for the shower handle and turned off the hot water.

Freezing water rained down and I gasped. “Shit!” Lurching forward, I slammed my body against him, his warmth a beacon. I clung to him.

“Linden! Linden. What is wrong with you?” Overton shook me.

“Huh? I don’t know? I can’t control myself.”

“Linden, I have fantasized about you in the shower so many times, but please, you don’t want to do this.”

The cold water helped to clear the fog. Oh, fuck. Cyril’s gift.
Damn, he wasn’t kidding.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Shhh… it’s OK. You aren’t yourself. Are you OK?

“Yes, Cyril warned me but I guess the adrenaline of the night overrode the effects until now.”

“Was it a spell?”

“Ah, not exactly. I’m so sorry, Stanton. Good thing the spell on you was broken or that could have gotten out of control.”

“Linden, the tie isn’t broken. It’s not a spell; it’s your bond to Cyril. Nothing has changed.”

“But Dominic was civil to me.”

“He can be a cantankerous bugger but he does care for you the same way all of us do. He knows what Cyril meant to you and what you meant to Cyril.”

“So, you still…”

“Yes.” He looked down at his tented boxers.

“Sorry.”

“Let’s get you cleaned.”

In no time Overton had me tucked into bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere. I’ll stay here with you.”

“Do you think he’s out there, somewhere?”

“I don’t know. He’s done God’s work. I’m sure if he has a say, Cyril will be well cared for.”

“You really believe that?”

“Yes, I do.”

Overton climbed into the bed and pulled me to him. His arms holding me against his warmth, and soft breaths on my neck in a calm, steady rhythm, soothed.

“What do you think this all means?”

“That you’re special, but I’ve always known that.”

“Do you think I’ll ever see him again? I mean in another life?”

“I think so. Close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll take you to see him in the morning. You’ve been through so much. Rest.”

He brushed the hair from my face and stroked my arm until my eyes became too heavy to hold open.

* * *

“I can’t help you! I don’t know what to do. Please, no!” I cried. Cyril!

I sat up in bed. Gasping for breath, my heart pounded and the pattern on my back felt like it was on fire the moment my eyes opened. As consciousness seeped in, the fire dissipated. One hell of a nightmare.
Once I caught my breath—

Interesting.

Overton lay on his side, facing me. He looked innocent in sleep. His kindness was always evident in his features. There was no doubt why Cyril chose him. His hand rested on my hip. I reached up to brush a stray piece of hair out of his face when it occurred to me there was something warm behind me.

Carefully, I rolled to my back and turned my head and the name escaped my lips. “Rhys.”

He sat up and threw his arms around me. “What happened? I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” After a moment of searching the room, he said, “What is it, Linden? I don’t see anything.”

Overton sprang to life. “What’s going on?”

Rhys answered him on a whisper, “Shhh… Something frightened Linden but I don’t know what it is.” He finally loosened his arms.

“I do! What in the hell are you doing in my bed?”

With a hushed laugh, Rhys held his finger up to his lips, “Oh, that. We’re here if you need us.”

“We’re?” Looking around the room, I could not believe my eyes. They were all here. Most were sleeping. Sinclair was sprawled on the chair; the rest were scattered across the floor. Thor stirred. “What are all of you doing in here?”

Overton rubbed small circles on my back. “Love. They—we—find comfort in your presence. Since we’ve lost our connection to Cyril, your proximity brings us comfort. It’s familiar.”

Rhys rubbed my arm. “We all had trouble sleeping but when we realized Overton was sound asleep with you, we came in here. Sleep in here is easy.”

“I didn’t do anything.” With my face in my hands, I sighed. What was I going to do now?

“Linden, please understand, Cyril was our leader, our friend, our creator. We have known him for hundreds of years. He gave you part of himself. You can take his place. We feel the same pull toward you. Being bound together does complicate things.” Rhys laughed to himself. “I never fought the urge to fuck Cyril.”

“Rhys!” Overton scolded.

“OK, I’ll behave. Linden, the magic Cyril uses has a sort of magnetic pull. It doesn’t like to separate. We’re always our best and most at ease around each other. Do you feel us?”

“Feel you? I can’t even begin to understand what I’m feeling. I miss him so much. One minute I’m dying inside from grief and the next I’m molesting Overton in the shower.”

Rhys’s eyebrow raised and then he shot a glare at Overton, who covered his face with his hands.

“Don’t start. I’m so pissed all of you think it’s OK to come in here and make yourself at home, but the moment I wanted to leave, it’s a struggle. What the fuck is wrong with me?” Exhaling a deep sigh, I remembered. “Wait a minute. What about Moreaux? Isn’t he in France? How can he be away?” What kind of bullshit was Rhys selling?

“He’s a sadistic fuck. He makes his way back when it gets unbearable.” Rhys glared at Overton, who arched a brow at him.

“I’m going to wake up at any minute now and this will all be over.” Pain prickled just behind my eye. Great, a headache.

“Linden, we’re so sorry.” Overton placed a hand on the side of my face.

“I think I need some air.” Forcing myself to leave, I slid to the bottom of the bed and off, stepping over sleeping men as I went in search of Cyril’s body.

It was all too much. The dream had been so disturbing. Cyril begged for help. Demanding I answer him, but I couldn’t. The helplessness in his voice crushed me. Then to wake up in a room full of men…

I made my way down the stairs, through the kitchen, and to the garage. There was a doorway across from the small room where the men stored their ammunition. It looked like it could be a basement. I was correct.

Just before stepping through the threshold, the entrance to the garage opened. In stepped a large man I had never seen before, but was somehow familiar. He set his bags on the floor, then ran a hand through his clean-cut black hair. He rubbed his handsome, chiseled jaw and shouted over his shoulder, “Mary, please grab the laptop bag from the trunk.” His French accent was thick, and the weary look on his face hinted at hard travels.

There was no response, but Mary, the former housekeeper, lumbered through the threshold struggling to carry a black messenger bag. She hefted it from her shoulder and handed it to the man who had to be Moreaux.

“She’s here.” He took a deep breath. “So is everyone else but I still don’t sense Cyril. Come. We need to find out what happened.”

Lovely. Fuck.
Sticking around wasn’t an option. I couldn’t deal with Moreaux. Running flat-out down the long hall, I didn’t look back. A very large security door with a palm scanner stood at the end of the passage. Everyone knew I was here. If I set off an alarm, no one would care. I only hoped it wasn’t Moreaux who came running. He had not received Cyril’s warning as far as I knew.

I placed my hand in the scanner. It clicked open.

I probably didn’t want to know how they programmed my palm scan.

A set of stairs descended into a very dark room. At that depth, I had to be in the center of Mount Washington. I closed the door behind me.

As I walked down the stairs and stepped into the room, the light came on.

Cyril’s body lay in the center as a focal point.

My heart crumbled. The disturbing thought of his body never decaying would keep me from ever leaving his side. The last time life served me mountains of grief, I erected an emotional stasis. I protected myself and moved on. I couldn’t muster enough desire to even try. I wanted to give up. I didn’t want the burden of holding all of this at bay. I wanted nothingness to take away my choices, to make me a victim
.
I wanted the power that came with being the controlled. Without Cyril, I had no desire to be the survivor.

Standing over his lifeless body, I touched his arm. He felt room temperature. I don’t know why I expected him to be cold.

“Cyril, why did you have to be such a damn fool?”

My chest tightened; tears rose and spilled down my cheeks.

“Light? What did you do?”

I stood straight up and looked around the room. Nothing
.
Oh, fuck. I was losing my mind.

I looked back into Cyril’s face. There was no movement.

“I know you can hear me.”

Assessing his unmoving body, I searched the room again.

“Stop looking around the room and listen to me. I need to know what you did.”

“Cyril?”

“Yes, love, it’s me, but you’ve got to tell me what you did.”

“Where are you?”

He let out a frustrated sigh.
“I’m between realms.”

“What does that mean?”

“I really don’t know. At this point until you tell me what you did, I’m not going to be much help.”