Caleb (30 page)

“Help
me.” Had she managed to say it aloud?

A
disoriented flash, like lightning but broader, more encompassing, shot through
the darkness. Another presence joined the intruder. Angry, strong, and
relentless, it tore through the edges of the inky tendril, shattering its hold.
She took a shaky breath.

Caleb.
The whisper was both mental and physical.

Come
here, baby.

Calm
in the midst of chaos. “Here” was a hollowed-out spot deep within the shadows.
A tiny beacon of light. The evil gathered around her, pulling her back.

I
can’t.
She couldn’t outrun the
smothering evil. Nothing could.

Now.

She
shook her head.
Move.
Light shot out from the edge of the hollow. The
blackness writhed and withdrew, pulling farther back, seething and gathering at
the edges of the newly established boundary. The slimy blackness reared as two
separate arms, waving in a silent scream. Between those foul extensions lay a
narrow path.

Move
it.
The snarl whipped across her nerves.
She jumped. The arms looked so ready to swat whatever was foolish enough to
enter the path. She couldn’t believe she was being this stupid. But she was.
Because Caleb told her to. With a prayer, she shot forward, blindly running
down the path, the salvation Caleb offered. Behind her, the darkness lurched.
Pain—crippling, blinding, unnatural pain built, stealing her focus, sapping her
concentration with single-minded purpose. She focused on the hollow. She was
close. So close. She couldn’t fail now. Her strength faltered.
Help me.

Calm
coated the panic.
A little more, Allie.

She
didn’t have any more. The darkness was too strong. Stronger than anything she’d
ever felt, and so determined. It wanted her, and it was going to get her. There
was nothing anyone could do. Fighting just endangered them all. It was better
that she just surrender. The brothers didn’t need her. They were better off
without her.

No.
The brothers’ united protests roared in her head.

Caleb’s
voice rose louder than all the rest.
Goddamn you, Allie girl, if you give up
now I’ll fucking paddle your ass!

He
was such a nag. She dug deeper. White light flashed. The blackness flickered.
She gathered her will.

C’mon,
Allie. Come here.

She
went, giving one last desperate lunge, making it halfway before the sucking
energy cut her off.

Caleb!

Another
brilliant light shot out, wrapped around her, and yanked. For a moment, she was
suspended between the light and the darkness, caught in a tug-of-war while
agony shattered her from the inside out. Jared’s determination beat inexorably
at her surrender. Caleb’s unwavering strength gave her hope.

But
the darkness seduced more subtly. Promising relief from the pain. Promising
peace. Knowledge.

It
doesn’t have anything to offer you, Allie.

Yes
it did. Understanding skittered along the edge of agony. If she could just hold
on a moment longer, she’d see what it was. Learn.

She
didn’t get her moment. With a wrench that threatened to sever her psyche, she
tumbled into the hollow Caleb had carved. As soon as she landed in the safe
zone, three bolts of light separated from the hollow, lashing into the darkness
with calculated fury, splintering it into fragments of nothingness. It vanished
with a scream that reverberated in a cacophony of frustration. The echoes faded
like the rumblings of a storm, passing grudgingly into the distance, taking the
threat with them. For now.

She
opened her eyes, dragging air into her lungs on hoarse breaths. Real. Oh God,
it had seemed so real.

Arms
came around her. She screamed and yanked away, to no avail. She slashed with
her talons. Hands caught hers, twisted her around. A broad chest cushioned her
back in a familiar embrace. The fight drained out of her in a shuddering sigh.
“Caleb . . .”

“It’s
all right, Allie girl. I’ve got you. It’s all right.”

IT
wasn’t all right.

“I’ve
been slimed.”

Well
and truly slimed. Deep inside she could still feel that oily, sinister,
pervasive presence. Gross. Allie kept her eyes closed as she assimilated her surroundings.
She was on a bed. The sheets were clean. She felt sated, yet still felt that
she could nibble, which meant she’d fed probably a few hours ago. In the
distance, muffled by walls and doors, she could hear men’s voices, low murmurs
that rose and fell in a deliberate hush. The house creaked with the wind that
rustled the leaves in the trees. Energy drifted toward her. Intense. Impatient
and concerned. Caleb. She’d recognize him anywhere. “Did you get the name of
the entity that slimed me?”

“Am I
supposed to make sense of that comment?”

She
cracked one eye. Caleb stood beside the bed, skin glowing weirdly pale in her
night vision. The lines beside his mouth were deeper shadows of the same gray,
more carved than she remembered. He looked tired. “Guess you’re not a fan of
Ghostbusters
.”

He
brushed the hair back from her eyes. His fingertips grazed her skin in a touch
as insubstantial as the moonlight coming through the window, drifting down her
cheek to her shoulder, delving into the hollow above her collarbone, coming to
rest midway down. “No.”

While
his tone was conversational, his eyes never stopped roaming her face.
Searching. She was afraid to ask why.

“Do
you have any idea what
Ghostbusters
is?”

“I’m
guessing a movie.”

The
blanket weighed like lead, pinning her arms to her chest. Why was she so weak?
“A very funny movie,” she corrected. “One that’s full of demons, jokes, and
paranormal activity.” She cracked her other lid. “In other words, right up your
alley.”

“Uh-huh.”

Her
wisecrack didn’t even earn a twitch of his lips. Damn, this must be serious.
“Would that be an I’m-humoring-you-because-you’re-at-death’s-door uh-huh, or an
I-don’t-like-modern-movies uh-huh?”

“The
latter. I’m more fond of reading.”

She
closed her eyes in relief, then immediately reopened them, because the
persistent sense that something was very wrong wouldn’t go away. From this
angle, Caleb’s shoulders seemed broader than ever, strong enough to handle
anything. She smiled as she realized he was wearing her favorite shirt. The green
flannel one that brought out his eyes when she could see color. She dropped her
gaze lower. He was also wearing her favorite jeans. They were really faded and
really worn, to the point they no longer just fit his body, but hugged it in a
loving embrace, revealing every surge of muscle, every bulge of masculine
flesh, in a mouthwatering display. The man was truly blessed.

“Could
you turn on the light?” She really wanted to see his shirt, the color of his
eyes.

“Why?”

“I
don’t like this night vision.”

His reach
for the lamp was more of an impression of movement than actual movement.
Floorboards didn’t squeak, air wasn’t disturbed. He just glided to his
destination.

“I
have got to learn to do that.”

“What?”

“That
floaty thing.” The light turned on. Color assaulted her senses—the rich brown
of the floors, the washed burgundy of the walls, the deep green of Caleb’s
shirt, the deeper green of his eyes. She took a moment to absorb the
familiarity. The utter normalcy of it. “Thank you.”

In
two gliding steps, he was back at her side. He adjusted the blankets over her
shoulders, a smile ghosting his lips as his knuckles brushed her cheek. “You’re
welcome.”

“You
look good.” And he did, despite the signs of fatigue, he looked very, very
good. He always did, and just seeing him had a way of making things right in
her world. His right eyebrow raised. It was such a blessedly familiar moment
after the weirdness of before that she turned her head to kiss his forearm.

“Jared
just got done telling me I look like hell.”

Beyond
a break in his next breath, Caleb didn’t relax. That alone was enough to worry
her. She puffed out a disgusted bit of air. “What does Jared know? If it isn’t
dressed in black, he can’t relate.”

“I’m
glad to see you’ve got your sass back.”

It
was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “I lost it?”

He
sat on the side of the bed. Her body followed the dip of the mattress, rolling
until she came up against his hip. His hand braced on the mattress behind her
left shoulder. The shadow of his body cocooned her in intimate darkness. Her
night vision kicked in. The black and white emphasized the harshness of his
facial structure, highlighted the character so deeply embedded in the planes
and hollows. She remembered the horrible presence, the way it’d taken over, but
mostly she remembered the way Caleb had gone after it, blazing light and fury,
fearless and determined, no hesitation. She’d needed him and he’d been there.
They’d all been there.

“You’ve
been out for a day.”

One
whole day? “Good God!”

Caleb’s
mouth tightened to a thin line as he eased his hands under her shoulders. “God
was nowhere near that mess.”

“And
just what exactly was that mess?”

He
lifted her. “Someone, we think vampire, came calling.”

“The
Sanctuary people?”

The
shake of his head was emphatic. “They’d be more likely to convert you than to
attack you.”

She
felt as stiff and creaky as an old door as he slid behind her. Her joints
protested the move, the bones grating with the effort. Her hand went to her
stomach. “Our baby.”

Caleb
covered her hand with his as she eased back against him. “Everything’s the same
as it was as far as we can tell.”

“What
does that mean?”

Caleb
sighed. Allie wanted to know for certain if she was pregnant, but he didn’t
have an answer. It wasn’t like they could just stroll into town for a pregnancy
test without raising eyebrows, and they certainly couldn’t send blood out to a
lab.

Beneath
his hand, Allie’s stomach fluttered with the conflicting emotions ricocheting
inside her. He wished he could tell her if she was pregnant or not, but he
didn’t know. Son of a bitch, they didn’t know anything they needed to know when
it came to her. “If you were carrying, you still are, and if you weren’t, you
still aren’t.”

Her
palm came over his. Soft, warm, she pressed his hand to her. To the place where
maybe his child rested. The miracle of that possibility just bowled him over.
Caleb slowed his breathing, staring into the shadows, old dreams coming back.
Dreams he’d built for his brothers as well. Dreams he’d put away as useless
when they’d turned vampire. Dreams that involved family and kids and making a
place for themselves that was better than what they’d lost. And now, after all
these years, it was dangling just out of his reach.

How
the hell was a man supposed to adjust to that? How the hell was he supposed to
deal with the morass of emotions that came with the resurrection? Rage at any
that would threaten her. Joy at the gift she brought. Fear that she could be
taken away. No way around it, Allie made him vulnerable, and that was going to
take some getting used to.

She
shifted in his arms. Adjusting his grip to accommodate her new position, he
looked down. Allie’s eyes were closed. “Tired?”

She
shook her head, the rosemary scent of the shampoo with which he’d washed her
hair teasing his nostrils. “Just pretending it’s you and me here in the
darkness. No bad guys, no freaky visiting entities, no uncertain future. Just
you and me and possibility.”

Caleb
ran his index finger up the bridge of her nose, his own personal miracle,
bracing his fingers against her forehead, easing her head against his shoulder.
“I’d like that.”

“Me,
too.”

There
was a very un-Allie-like silence and then she took a breath. Caleb braced
himself. She was going to tell him she wanted to leave. He’d always known she’d
reach a point where things would become too overwhelming for her. Though he’d
told himself he’d respect her decision if she asked to leave, he wasn’t sure he
could let her go. Not now. He liked to think he could, but about ninety percent
of that thinking was pure bluff.

Eyes
still closed, body relaxed against his, she exhaled. “I make a lot of jokes,
you know.”

“I
know.” It was how she coped with life’s toll on her emotions and defended
herself from the way the world sometimes beat up on that sensitive heart of
hers.

“But
I can be serious.”

The
seam of her lashes shimmered with the surge of tears. She blinked once, twice.
He tucked her closer, resting his chin on her hair. On the third blink, she
swallowed hard and found her voice. “And I really want there to be a baby.”