Fade (31 page)

Dace rocked me back and forth, stroking my back and hair while murmuring to me.

I wanted to tell him how sorry I was for not understanding sooner, for not getting to the poor animal in time, but I couldn’t get the words out around the sobs wracking my body. I cried for the wolf. I cried for Dani and my mom. I cried for the part of me who wasn’t there and should have been. The one who would have been strong enough to save the wolf if we arrived there in time, had I understood what I sensed sooner. Weeks of turmoil and fear, of grief and loss, poured out as Dace held me.

There had been so much bad already, and it kept coming. Every time I thought maybe I could breathe, some new hurt bowled me over. Some new level of pain, some new kind of heartache. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it all to stop.

I couldn’t make that happen though, because that wasn’t my life anymore. From the minute my eyes locked on that wolf at Mom’s funeral, before that even, the life where I was normal and normal things happened to me had blown away like so much dust. I missed the safety, the security of who I’d been then. I missed knowing the worst part of my day would be sitting in a cramped classroom for eight hours.

I’d been so naïve.

My eyes eventually ran dry and the sobs slowed. Soon, too soon, they subsided altogether. I didn’t feel any better, but I hadn’t expected to, anyway. I took a deep, shuddering breath and then another, trying to pull myself together as best I could. Crying wouldn’t bring the wolf back any more than crying brought back my mom, or Dani.

Life freaking sucked that way.

When I pulled myself together enough to catch a steady breath, I realized Dace’s arms were tense around me. He sat completely rigid even as he rocked me on his lap. I stilled, trying to listen to him in my head. It felt as if I struggled through thick mud, but I felt him in there. I felt the wolf, too. He raged, lashing his body back and forth inside his cage, snarling. Dace fought hard to keep him under control, harder than I’d ever seen him fight before.

Tendrils of thought and feeling he normally blocked flowed through the crack linking our minds. Not everything trickled through, not even close, but what did was more than enough. Grief and fury boiled from him, directed toward me as much as his murdered friend.

I gasped and attempted to struggle up in his arms to look at him. He tightened his hold around me, not hurting, but keeping me prisoner. He was so angry, and I didn’t understand why. Did he blame me for this?

No!
His emotions whipped at me, slamming into place like a physical blow.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and settled into his arms, no longer trying to see him, but burying myself in him to hold him together. I had no idea how to help, but I had to try because he was losing himself to the emotions pouring through him like liquid fire. I think his concern for me, the awareness I was with him perhaps, gave him the edge he needed to keep from screaming through the maelstrom of fury raging inside him.

I’d never understood exactly how hard he found it to control the wolf. Even when Ronan invaded my mind, the wolf had not been so rabid, so feral. Right then, though, I felt how painful the battle for control could be for Dace. The wolf wanted out. Needed out, I think, and he gave no quarter in the battle he waged with Dace. I don’t think the wolf even realized how much pain his rage caused Dace.

“Tell me what to do,” I begged.

Dace’s jaw groaned, creaking in protest to the way he clenched his teeth. He didn’t respond though, and he didn’t relax either.

“Dace, please,” I pleaded. Not even when his emotions heightened my own had I ever felt even a fraction of the emotion coursing through him. He had to feel for two, had to grieve for two. I wanted to scream for him. “Please tell me how to help.”

Yet again, he said nothing.

I closed my eyes, buried my face in his neck, and tried to envision myself stroking his wolf as I had the wolf that’d died in my arms. I tried to imagine the feel of his fur beneath my hands, tried to feel his warmth and vitality beneath my fingertips.

He howled as if my attempts burned him.

“Don’t,” Dace groaned, and shoved me from his lap. He bounded to his feet before I hit the ground, my arms still extended as if he was still in them. He paced away. The movements were too fast and too hard, and far less graceful than I’d ever seen from him.

“Dace.” Tears stung my eyes. I was trying to help, and not even that satisfied him. I lifted my hand toward him, pleading silently for him to let me in, to let me help him.

“Do not touch me,” he growled in warning, swinging his head in my direction. His eyes were so bright with anger they glowed like brilliant green lights. His lip curled and his hands clenched. His eyes met mine for an instant, and those furious lights intensified.

The wolf howled again.

I gasped as more of his thoughts trickled into my mind. They came quickly, and were little more than flickers, but they were enough. Despite what Dace said earlier, he did blame me, or his wolf did. They were so angry with me over the dead wolf. So, so angry.

“Watch her, Buka,” Dace said. The words hit me like a hammer blow.

I tried to struggle to my feet, to say something. Before I could find words to apologize for not being able to save the wolf, or unlock my muscles to stand, Dace raced away.

I watched him go, too stunned and hurt to move.

Dace
, I cried.

He severed the connection between us, disappearing from my thoughts as fast as he’d disappeared from my sight.

My heart clenched tight in my chest, and then it shattered.

I stared numbly at the dead wolf at my feet until my vision blurred and I could no longer see him, and no longer see the accusing look in Dace’s eyes.

I rose to my feet, colder than I had been earlier, and started walking. I paid no attention to where I went or if Buka even came with me. For the longest time, I just walked, my mind completely blank.

As I neared the park, thought and feeling began returning in bits and pieces. I became aware of my surroundings, and of Buka pacing worriedly at my side. I made it as far as the picnic table where Dace had kissed me before I could go no farther.

I dropped onto the bench and laid my head down on the wood, wrapping my arms around my middle. I still felt too shocked to try to make sense of anything. After everything, he’d shut me out completely. Walked away and left me standing there alone.

Buka whined and nudged at me.

I didn’t move or respond to her. I didn’t know what to say. For days, Dace told me over and over I was stronger than I thought, but he’d been wrong, and so had I. I couldn’t save that wolf. I couldn’t even understand what I felt until it was too late. Was it any wonder he’d walked away?

Buka moved away from me and then paced back. She butted me with her head.

“Go away,” I mumbled, my voice thick with tears.

She whined again.

I sighed, knowing my behavior upset her but unable to stop myself. All of the worrying and crying over the last few days had been for nothing. Dace would never trust me. I climbed to my feet. “I’m going home, Buka. You can’t follow me through town. Someone will notice.”

She looked at me for a minute and then rose to all fours and dashed back the way we’d come.

I waited until she disappeared into the trees, and then started walking. I glanced down and noticed the blood covering my jeans and soaking through my sweater. My throat tightened.

I couldn’t walk home. Someone would notice the blood as surely as they would have noticed a huge wolf trailing along behind me like a tame puppy. I hesitated at the edge of the parking lot, unsure of what to do. The only people I knew to call, Chelle and Dad, couldn’t drop everything to come drive me home. Dad was with Melinda, and Chelle didn’t need to deal with this when she’d just buried her sister.

And Dace … I swallowed convulsively. I might have been weak, but he wasn’t innocent either. He hadn’t even given me a chance to explain, or told me anything in the last weeks that might have helped me save his friend. How could I do anything differently than I’d done when he couldn’t even be bothered to tell me what I needed to know?

“Screw it,” I muttered and stomped through the parking lot. I would walk home, and anyone who noticed would have to deal with it. And if they called the police, well, they would just have to deal with it, too.

I made my way to the end of the street, still muttering to myself, before I noticed the dark car trailing along behind me. I pretended I didn’t see the car and kept walking. If someone wanted to be nosy, they could stop and do it properly on their own. I was angry, hurt, covered in blood, and freezing cold. In short, not in the mood to make anything easier for anyone.

The car pulled up beside me. It was black and sporty, with windows tinted so dark it was surely illegal in several states. The car crept at a snail’s pace beside me for a moment before the window rolled down. I didn’t stop walking.

“Would you like a ride?”

I froze as that familiar, far too perfect voice sent alarms sounding in my head. I turned, telling myself I only imagined things.

Ronan stared back at me from the driver’s seat.

“No,” I answered curtly, unable to even attempt to hide my dislike of him.

“Is that blood?” he asked, not sounding at all surprised.

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled, cursing myself for being an idiot.
I would have to tempt fate
. I shivered, though I didn’t know if it was because of my nerves or the cold.

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be looking after you?”

His question stabbed at my aching heart.

I growled, suddenly more furious than hurt or scared. I stomped toward the car and jerked open the door. I hopped into the front seat, kicking an empty coke bottle out of my way, before I could even think it through. The car stank of tobacco and grease.

“Happy now?” I muttered, jerking the door closed.

“Of course,” Ronan said, actual amusement lacing his tone.

I turned my face away from him.

Ronan drove slower than I might have wished.

“Why are you covered in blood?” His tone lacked concern. In fact, it lacked any sort of inflection period.

“There was an animal … .” Wildly rolling, pain filled eyes flashed through my mind. I cleared my throat, forcing the image away, and continued, “In the woods.”

“Ah.” A pause. “What were you doing with this animal in the woods?”

I blew out a breath and turned to tell him that my doings were none of his damned business, only to find him focused straight ahead, his eyes hard and his face cold.

The depths of my recklessness hit me then.

Had I not, only days ago, tried to convince Dace that Ronan might be a murderer? Had I not held what might have been one of his victims in my arms less than an hour ago and watched it die? And then I jumped in the car with him anyway because I was angry?

I felt physically ill.

“Are you okay?” He stopped at the top of the street and shot a quick, assessing look in my direction before making the turn onto my street.

“Fine.” The word felt strangled in my throat. How did he know where I lived?

“Of course,” he said again, stopping in front of Dad’s house.

I had the door open in record time. “Thanks,” I squeaked, jumping out of the car.

He nodded curtly, his eyes far away and even harder than they had been earlier. My heart hammered in my chest.

Ronan drove away before the door even clicked closed.

He scared me more than anyone I had ever seen in my life. Getting in his car like that was beyond stupid. If I ever saw Dace again, I truly would kill him for walking away and leaving me there alone.

I ran into the house, slamming and locking the door behind me. My teeth chattered and my hands shook. I stood in the entryway for a minute, my ears straining toward any hint Ronan might return. I heard nothing though, and drew a deep, shaky breath.

When I thought my legs would hold my weight, I stumbled to the laundry room and peeled off my clothes. There was so much blood, more than I’d realized. It was drying and hardening, turning the fabric stiff. I started shaking as I tossed my clothes into the washing machine and turned it on.

I cowered in the shower, hot water beating down on me before I stopped shivering. I held my eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see the water running red as the dried blood washed away. It bothered me that the animal’s blood washed away so easily while the memories would not. Those would haunt me forever.

Dace’s angry face floated through my mind.

I felt tears burning up my throat and fought them down as I scrubbed myself head to toe. I wouldn’t cry, not over him. He’d shut me out and left me there, refused to let me help him, or to explain why he was so angry with me. There wasn’t an excuse for that.

I stepped from the shower to towel myself dry, shoving all thoughts of him into a little corner of my mind. I felt as if there should be welts on me where his anger lashed.

I ran the brush through my hair.

The phone rang.

I ignored it and carefully sat the brush down on the sink.

The phone stopped ringing as I wrapped the towel around myself and walked down the short hall to my room. I dressed slowly in sweats and a T-shirt, the phone ringing again and again.

I flung myself across the bed as it rang a fifth, sixth, and then seventh time.

When it rang an eighth time, I growled, jerked my pillow over my head, and let the damn thing ring.