Dark Angel's Ward (20 page)

When we'd both caught our breath, I pushed at him until he rolled onto his back. I snuggled against his chest, sighing with contentment as he combed his fingers through my hair. Perfect. Well, almost perfect--I had a fleeting mental image of Ryphan lurking outside the door, listening to our canoodling, but dismissed it as paranoia.

I'd expected more proclamations of love at this point, or at least pillow talk of some kind. I'd actually been sort of looking forward to it, hoping the afterglow chemistry might loosen my tongue enough to let me confess these feelings I'd only just admitted to myself. But Zeph didn't say anything more. His breathing deepened and his stroking fingers eventually came to a stop on my shoulder.

Just like a man to fall asleep right after sex.
After a glance at his face, though, I couldn't bring myself to disturb him. I hadn't seen that soft serenity in his expression even once while he'd been in my home. He obviously hadn't been sleeping well, either.

I couldn't pull the sheets loose from underneath us, so I hooked my discarded towel with my foot and spread it over our nakedness. I reached across him to switch off the bedside lamp and nestled against his shoulder again. My mind began to drift, but I jolted in surprise on the edge of sleep.

Zeph stirred, blinking. "What's wrong?"

"I can hear your damned head voices again!" I griped. I had no idea why, either. This time I knew I hadn't drawn any energy from him in the heat of passion. I'd be feeling it by now if I had. "What the hell?"

His lips curved slightly as his eyes slid back shut. "You're listening," he said again, like he had the last time I'd asked. "A quiet mind hears many things."

I paused in the midst of shaking my echoing head. "Thank you very much, Lord Buddha. That was ever so enlightening."

One eye slitted open again. "I don't believe you've ever listened to them before," he murmured, though his tone held no reproach. "You have always surrounded yourself with noise--music, people, whatever it took to drown them out. It's no wonder you only hear the ones who cry the loudest."

"What?" Was he talking about my hallucinations? "So you're saying I wasted a ton of money on doctors and pills, when all I really needed to do was turn up the stereo a little louder?"

"No." He sighed. "Do you truly want to understand?"

"Oh sure, why not?"

"Then listen." His hand on my shoulder began to stroke a soothing rhythm again. "Be at peace and let them speak to you."

Them--people who whispered, people who prayed. People who cast their hope and despair out into the darkness, with the faith they would find a light. People I didn't understand in the slightest. The very prospect of letting them into my head terrified me.

"Relax," Zeph whispered again, already sliding back into sleep. I could feel it in the lazy glide of his fingers over my skin.

"That's easy for you to say," I shot back. But I couldn't help noticing the voices sounded different this time. This wasn't the cacophony of shouts I unwillingly heard when I bonded with him. Nor was it the high, frantic gibbering that had risen during our shared panic attack. This was a mellow sound, like the babbling of water over stones or the murmur of conversations at a sedate party. Indistinct and, thus far, not frightening.

I drew a few deep breaths and forced myself to settle in his embrace again, smiling a little as he hugged me even in sleep. I listened for a long time, drifting with the ebb and flow of voices mingled with Zeph's soft snores. There was music in it, I realized. Life rhythm set to the beating of our hearts, to the spin of the planet.

Corny as hell, I know, but as I lay there listening to it, it didn't seem so corny. It fascinated me, hinting at a connectedness I'd begun to despair of ever feeling. I found sudden new respect for Zeph, knowing the many forms this song could take, both beautiful and horrific. Knowing he rode the wave of all that phantom emotion with hardly any true understanding of it. Was that why he'd clung so desperately to those glimmers of knowledge he'd gained during our time together?

Looking back, I'm sure I'd been on the verge of some great epiphany in that moment. But it shattered in an instant as a single quavering voice rose out of the chorus. A familiar voice, edged with heartache and fear. It whispered,
"Zeph?"

Twenty-One

I bolted upright in bed, ears straining in the midnight hush. Had I imagined it? Zeph snored on beside me. Apparently he hadn't heard anything.

Just as I went to lie back down, the voice sounded again.
Zeph, I hope you can hear me. Or you--Jade, Jandra, whatever the hell your name is.

"Cara?" I whispered aloud to the darkness.

God, I feel so stupid,
her ghostly voice murmured on, unaffected by my interruption. She laughed bitterly.
I can't even remember the last time I prayed, but I...I just don't know what else to do. Please, you guys, please come back, or call me, or something. Anything. Please.

My heart sped in my chest at the raw misery in her whispered words. Whatever was going on, it has to be something pretty terrible to crack the Caranator. Unless, of course, it was all just another hallucination on my part. Or a dream.

But I couldn't quite convince myself of that. Nor could I just brush it off. Despite the risk of making contact, I knew I'd never get back to sleep until I talked to her. Ryphan had mentioned a phone in here. I pushed my hair back from my face, blinking around the darkened room.

There, on the other side of the lamp. I slipped out of bed and circled around to it, lifting the receiver to my ear. No dial tone, but after a few seconds a buzzing noise echoed from the speaker. A sleep-thickened female voice followed. "Yes, my lord?"

I blinked, startled. "Uh...no. Sorry. I'm not your lord. Wrong number, I guess." Was that how Ryphan made his servants address him? How positively medieval. I cleared my throat and added, "Listen, I'm trying to get an outside line. Do I need to dial a nine, or something?"

The woman let out a resounding yawn. "Use the phone...in the downstairs hall," she concluded, her words slurring. The receiver rattled on her end, and the line went dead.

I replaced my handset as well, frowning. What was the point of having phones that only worked within the house? Yet another little oddity in this very weird place. I wouldn't be a bit sorry when we'd worn out our welcome.

I took a moment to adjust the towel over Zeph's hips, then padded across the room to the overnight bag. I slipped into an outfit and made my way out of the room on tiptoes. Though my caution proved to be a wasted effort--the upstairs stood just as echoingly empty as it had earlier. That should have seemed less unusual at this hour of the night, but for some reason, it didn't. As I passed closed door after closed door, I found myself wondering what lay behind them. Now was no time to indulge my curiosity, though.

I reached the head of the stairs, where one large room dominated the other end of the hall, clearly the master suite. Its door stood ajar, and a faint whimpering came from within. I froze with one hand on the banister. After a moment the noise came again, a soft weeping, utterly devoid of hope. Definitely not a head voice this time--the chorus of murmurs had faded away as soon as I'd zeroed in on Cara's voice.

Breath held, I crept toward the door and peeked around the jamb. I couldn't see much in the dim light, but I could make out the pale forms of two bodies entwined on an enormous bed. One of them was Ryphan, of course, naked from the waist up.

The woman he held in his arms seemed to be less than half his size. Her pallid skin nearly glowed against the red satin of her nightgown. Something struck at odds with their intimate pose, some sort of subtle tension that seemed out of place. He raised a hand to touch her face, and she let out that bleak moan again. Ryphan's eyes lit in the darkness.

I shied back from the illuminated doorway, but when no one came bursting out to confront me, I peeked inside again. I couldn't help it. Whatever was going on in there clearly wasn't consensual. Besides, I could see better now with the sapphire glow of Ryphan's eyes brightening the room.

I had to stifle a gasp at the young woman's appearance. Now I could see her rail-thin body, and how her bony limbs moved in odd, random jerks. Her gaze fixated blindly on Ryphan's face, expressionless, showing no hint of the sorrow that carried in her cries. He stared down on her, too, his eyelids twitching like a junkie's.

Dear God, he's siphoning from the poor girl.
He was eating her alive, and there was almost nothing left. And that very fear, that crushing despair seemed to be his turn-on.

I felt queasy watching, but I couldn't look away. Not until Ryphan rolled on top of her and I could only see the smooth, pale expanse of his back. When his head reared back for a bite, I finally turned and fled, bounding down the stairs two at a time until I reached the bottom.

There, I sagged against the banister with a palm pressed to my chest, panting. I fought the urge to march right back up there and murder Ryphan in his own bed. But I couldn't do that right now--I couldn't forget about Cara. I'd heard that same note of despair in the voice of one of the few people I called friend, and I couldn't just ignore it.

All right, then
.
A quick call to the twins to convince myself they're fine and I was just dreaming, then I'll go wake Zeph and we'll murder him together.
Sounded simple enough. By the time I'd found the phone in the downstairs hall and dialed Cara's cell, I'd almost convinced myself it would work out fine.

The line picked up. "Hello?"

"Care? Hey, it's Ja...."

"WHERE IN THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. "Zeph and I had to go somewhere. Why? What's the big deal?"

"I've been calling you all damn day,
that's
the big deal! Why don't you ever answer your phone?"

"It's broken," I replied cautiously. "Cara, what's going on?"

She sniffled, and I knew I hadn't dreamed her desperate plea after all. "Sara never came home last night."

"What?" I blinked, nonplussed. "Sara went somewhere without you?"

"We're not conjoined," she snapped.

"All right, sorry. Listen, why don't you tell me everything from the beginning?"

"Okay." Her breath hitched, a sad, childlike sound that made my heart ache. "She got a call last night around seven. She went outside to take it, and I knew it then. I should have stopped her. She told me she was going to the library, but she went to meet that rat bastard ex-boyfriend of hers. I know it!"

"Calm down, sweetie, you're shouting. Let's think this through." I chewed my lip for a moment. "Now I'm not blaming you or anything, but knowing you, I assume you argued with her."

She choked out a strangled laugh. "Maybe just a little."

"Right. So she went away mad, regardless of where she went. Is there anyone she might have spent the night with? One of your friends, maybe?"

"Maybe, but I've called everyone I could think of. No one's seen her, or Kevin either. And her phone is off. It goes straight to voicemail every time I call. I...I just didn't know who else to turn to."

So she'd prayed. Not to God, but to me and my half-angel lover. I fought back a shudder at the very notion. At least it had worked. "Don't worry," I told her. "You did exactly right."

"Where are you guys? I went by your house and it was all dark."

"We had to go out of town, but we'll head back right now." I consulted the clock on the phone's base--just past midnight. "I'll wake Zeph and we'll be there before morning. In the meantime, do you have Jordan Radcliff's number?"

"Yeah. He was one of the first people I called. He doesn't know where she is."

"Never mind that. I want you to call him back and ask him to come right over and pick you up. You stay at his place until you hear from either Zeph or I. All right?"

"Why?" Suspicion sharpened her watery tone.

My grip tightened on the handset as I offered her the least likely of my fears. "Kevin's not especially fond of you, either. If he's done something to hurt Sara, there's no saying he won't try to come after you next. I don't want you to be alone."

"But what if Sara comes home and I'm not here?"

"Then she'll call you, and you'll tell her to get her butt over to Jordan's too. Listen, let me hang up and get going now, okay?"

"All right. How do I get in touch with you if she comes back?"

"
When
she comes back," I corrected firmly. "And you can't. My phone's dead, remember? I'll call you again as soon as we're back in town. Promise."

"Okay. And, Jade?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

My breath left me in a rush. If Sara was in as much trouble as I suspected, she shouldn't be thanking me for anything. "It's all good," I said around the sudden lump in my throat. "I want you to call Jordan the second you hang up with me, all right?"

"What am I supposed to tell him?" she asked.

"That you need a friend right now." I wiped an errant tear from my cheek with the back of my hand. "Hold on, Care. We'll be there soon."

"Hurry."

"We will." I hung up the phone, dropped it into its cradle, and charged up the stairs at a dead run. To hell with stealth. I no longer cared how much noise I made, and I certainly didn't want to overhear anything else.

Zeph didn't stir when I crashed through the door to our borrowed room, so I seized one long bare foot and shook it. "Wake up," I said, pitching my voice loud. "We have to go back."

"Jandra?" He rose up on one elbow, blinking. "What's the matter?"

"I said, we have to go back to Weston. Right now. Where are my keys?"

"In my pocket, I believe."

"Great." I slung the overnight bag onto my shoulder, then picked up his jeans and rifled through the pockets. I extracted the keychain and tossed the pants in his lap. "Get dressed and meet me in the car. Hurry."

"Jandra." He sat up and caught my forearm as I tried to hustle past. "What's going on?"