Just Believe (19 page)

Not to mention that now he needed help,
and there was nowhere to get it.

Annabelle. He'd need a mortal to break
the enchantment that would no doubt have been placed over Erin to
make her manageable and compliant.

But to enlist Annabelle's aid, he'd
have to reveal to her his nature.

He wasn't sure he could handle
that.

The blunt barrel of the pistol again
punched Gaelen in the kidney.

"Get movin', buddy," the officer said,
his tone announcing growing irritation.

For now, there was nothing else to do
but accompany the officer to the main security office. With luck,
he could get this cleared up and get on with his
business.

* * * *

Annabelle wandered along a hallway, a
fog of confusion around her head. She'd felt it settle over her as
soon as she'd gotten off the elevator and couldn't for the life of
her remember why she was here. She couldn't even remember where she
was.

Nothing looked familiar, though the
place looked like a hospital.

And didn't Mom come, too? Where was
she?

Twisting around and walking backward
for a few steps, she passed an elevator where the doors were just
closing. A tall man with wheat-gold hair leaned against the wall
inside, an expression of supreme irritation on his very handsome
face.

Gaelen.

White hot heat flooded her face and
flashed down her neck. Snatches of memory poked through the haze
and she could feel the way he'd touched her. In her dream, that is.
It had only been a dream. There was no reason to be embarrassed. He
didn't know how infatuated she was.

The fog parted, still making it hard to
think, but wispy and less confusing. Seeing Gaelen reminded her
where she was.

"Erin." She continued along the
hallway, letting her gaze pass over the whole area, trying to
orient herself. "Yes," she whispered. "Erin is in...this room."
Pushing open the door, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Approaching the bedside, she was at
first relieved to see her sister sleeping so soundly.

"Just like a log," Annabelle whispered
with a little smile, a smile that faded as she realized how true
her words were.

Erin lay on her back, arms stiff at her
sides. Her face bore no expression, no small smile at a pleasant
dream, no frown of discomfort as she rolled over to get more
comfortable. In fact, she lay...just like a log. Stock still, only
the slow movement of her chest up and down showed the figure in the
bed still lived.

Afraid to, afraid not to, Annabelle
gently set her hand on Erin's shoulder and shook.

"Erin, honey. It's me. It's Annabelle,
sweetie. Wake up."

Erin slept on.

Annabelle slumped in the chair by the
bed, a deep sigh escaping her. What had happened?

"Erin, please wake up." Her plea went
unanswered. A sudden chill rippled through her. What
if...?

She couldn't finish the thought, and
fought it, not allowing her gaze to leave her sister's body, as
though by keeping the connection she could keep Erin
here.

"Please don't die, Erin. Don't leave
me."

Erin lay so still, Annabelle was struck
with the memory of her father's death. She'd been there when he
passed, keeping her tears banked up while he struggled for a
breath. Even at the end, though, he'd been himself. He'd tried to
soothe her pain, making her smile in spite of herself as he
whispered "Whatcha gonna do?" These simple words were his motto for
getting through the bad times in life.

Whatcha gonna do? Just get through it
and go on.

Staring at Erin's still form, Annabelle
felt the dread of another loss. Sure, the doctor hadn't said
anything about Erin being in danger of dying, but Annabelle
couldn't escape the fear that she was about to lose her sister
forever.

Her silent vigil was interrupted by the
scrape of the door opening.

"Here you are," her mother's voice
broke in. "I've been looking for you. Annabelle, I'm so worried. I
think I might be getting senile." Her smooth brow wrinkled with
concern. "I couldn't remember where I was. I couldn't remember
anything."

"Here, sit." Annabelle got up to give
her mother a seat. "Don't worry, Mom. The same thing happened to
me. We're just worn out and exhausted by all this," she said, as
much for herself as her mother. Smiling, she smoothed her mother's
hair in a gentle caress. "Do you think Erin might be right? You
think the hospital has been taken over by aliens?"

Susan smiled wryly, relieving
Annabelle's mind somewhat. If she could see humor in this, she'd be
all right.

"Aliens?” Mom shook her head. “No. I
felt more like I was being pixie-led."

"Pixie-led? What's that?"

"That's when the pixies confuse you, so
you wander around and can't find your way."

Pixies. A sense that she was on to
something raised the hair on the back of Annabelle’s
neck.

"Look, dear. A firefly."

Annabelle turned to her mother, then
followed Susan's gaze toward the window. A flicker of light beat
against the glass, just like the first night--was it only three
nights ago?--when Erin had sworn it was an alien coming to abduct
her the same way they'd taken Lucas.

But they hadn't taken Lucas after
all.

The firefly tapped at the window.
Flittering, tapping. Flying away in a circle, only to return and
tap again.

Almost like it was a code.

She stared at the window.

"Isn't that odd?" Susan asked. "Almost
like he's trying to get in." She sighed deeply and turned back to
Erin, laying her hand on Erin's hair and sweeping the tendrils
back. "My poor baby," she murmured.

Susan sighed again, shuddering this
time, the anguish breaking Annabelle's heart. She knelt by her
mother's side and wrapped her in a hug.

"Don't worry, Mom. She'll be all
right."

"I'm trying to believe that, dear. I'm
trying."

Believe.

Annabelle's eyes were drawn back to the
window, where the firefly still tapped against the
glass.

Susan should go home. She needs to
rest. You can stay with Erin and look after her.

Eyes blinking in amazement, Annabelle
listened.

The voice speaking to her. It was
Gaelen's.

"Gaelen," she whispered.

Yes, love, it's me. Send your mother
home. We must talk.

With no more thought about it,
Annabelle took her mother's hand, her writer's instincts concocting
the words to accomplish what she wanted.

"Mom, it looks like it's going to be a
very long vigil. The doctor doesn't know when Erin will come out of
this." She tipped her head so she could catch Susan's eyes, still
fastened on Erin. "Why don't you let me take the first watch?"
Susan opened her mouth to protest. Annabelle cut her off. "I
promise I'll call you if there's any change at all. Please, Mom?"
She laid her hand on her mother's arm. "Let me do this for
you."

* * * *

It had been a small matter to squoosh
when the officer wasn't looking and flicker out of the office. Now,
Gaelen hovered by the window, watching as Susan nodded with supreme
reluctance and rose from the chair. He turned his attention away
from the sight as she bent over to leave a kiss on the abominable
thing that had been placed in Erin's bed.

When he got his hands on Linette
Duncan, he'd...

It was times like these Gaelen was very
glad he'd lived among mortals for so long. Fairies, in spite of the
myths and rather inventive tales, were larger-than-life creatures,
both in size and temperament. They loved deeper, hated hotter,
sought revenge and romance with greater determination, mourned with
greater heartbreak than mortal folk. Only twenty years of hiding
his nature had taught Gaelen how to control it.

So, he took his fairy-sized anger in
hand. There'd be time enough for that later, when Lucas and Erin
were home safe. Then, he'd make sure there was a reckoning for
this. He pushed to the side how much of his desire for revenge was
for Annabelle's sake. It was such a connection with a mortal female
that had started this whole mess in the first place.

Did she remember their interlude in the
Dream Realm? Had she been as affected as he had been?

He'd know soon enough.

He returned his attention to the window
in time to see Susan go to the door, glance back with longing pain
at the thing imitating her daughter, then leave the
room.

Stay there, love, he told Annabelle
silently, I'm coming.

She heard him. She turned toward the
window as she had before, the look on her face not one of
disbelief, as he'd feared, but amazement.

That reassured him. After all, what was
amazement but another form of discernment?

His spirits rose as he flew to the top
of the building and slipped into the air conditioner ducts, which
were fortunately not operating right now. A quick dart down to the
eleventh floor and he came out into the hallway, slowly, so as not
to flicker and attract attention. He floated at the door to Erin's
room briefly, seeking some idea of the mood inside. Then he flew
around the corner, stopped, and unsquooshed.

"Whew!" One hand on the wall to steady
himself, the other raised to check the time, Gaelen caught his
breath.

As he paced the distance to Erin's
room, he wondered how he could explain to Annabelle. How could he
tell her what he was? How could he explain the nature of his
nature?

And would she believe? Or would she
take his tale as grist for a story in her tabloid rag, one that
would lead to ridicule and derision? And expressed disbelief. Such
a reaction from the extensive audience of The Weekly Investigator
would set up a wave that would rock Faerie to its
foundations.

Yet what other choice did he have?
Lucas would never leave without Erin. He'd never allow her to be
held captive in Tir-Nan-Og forever. Gaelen would not allow his
brother to be held either. The only answer was to fight this and
get them both out. There had to be a way to sway the Great Council,
to get that damned law rescinded.

Even with this determination, he paused
when he reached Erin's room. Beyond the door was a woman who could
either help him or destroy them all, even if she didn't mean
to.

Time's a wastin', he thought as he
pushed open the door.

Chapter Thirteen

Annabelle heard the door open, but
couldn't turn away from Erin. She lay there so still, so quiet, not
even a twitch in her sleep.

"Annabelle?"

Gaelen's voice, surprising as it was,
didn't startle her. She'd expected him, could almost remember him
telling her he was coming, to wait for him.

Annabelle turned toward him. Her heart
flipped over as he raised his hands to her. Was he offering to hold
her? Even though it had only been a dream, she had made love to
this man and longed to have his arms around her again. If Dr.
Duncan had been correct, sympathy was all Gaelen could offer. Would
accepting his comforting embrace now cause her more hurt
later?

He must have seen the question in her
eyes. He raised his arms higher, open, waiting.

She stood up, not knowing if she could
even take the two steps to bring herself within the protection of
his arms. Gaelen must have seen that, too, because he took the
necessary steps and enfolded her, holding her against him, seeming
to absorb into his own body the shaking of hers. He was so warm, so
solid, and his arms felt so good around her, she just gave up
trying to be strong.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at the
wet spot on his shirt where her tears had soaked
through.

"Don't you dare apologize, darlin'. I'm
here, and we'll make everything right." His arms tightened around
her and he breathed deeply.

She looked up at him. "You're so sweet
to be so concerned about Erin."

He squeezed her tighter, then he pulled
a linen handkerchief from his pocket. "Here." He wiped her eyes and
held the handkerchief to her nose. "Like a good girl,
now."

Obediently she blew her nose. He folded
the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket, then sat on the
side of the bed while Annabelle returned to her seat in the ugly
plastic chair.

A rueful chuckle escaped her throat. "I
never knew where the saying came from before, but I do
now."

"What saying?"

"You know the one. Sleeping like a
log?"

The strangest expression crossed
Gaelen's face, unbroken by even a trace of a smile at her little
joke.

His sky-blue eyes flicked over to the
bed, then away. Annabelle could have convinced herself she saw
disgust on his face.

"Love, I have something I have to tell
you. Look at me."

The tone of his voice forced her to
obey him, her heart beating with dread.