Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 (33 page)

“No!”

“Let me finish.”

“You could never be useless. I’m sick of you talking about yourself like that.”

He brushed his lips over her hair. “Now you know how I feel. I’m sick of you putting yourself on the line in some misguided attempt to right the wrongs of your youth.”

That quieted her down. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

“Isn’t it? Look, relax. If you take a break and hate it, we can utilize your talents on the East Coast just as well as we do the west.” If she did want to go out and still be an agent, James thought, there was nothing, not even his own neurosis, that would keep him from accompanying her. “If you hate it at Raven, we’ll leave and find some other place to live.”

Her fingers burrowed under his shirt. “Together.”

“Absolutely.”

“If Carrie is stable, maybe we should leave tomorrow.” Her words were slow and measured, as if she were thinking them through as she spoke.

“And Erik?”

She laid her head against his shoulder. “I’ll talk to him. I guess we have to accept whatever decision he makes.”

This time when her breathing deepened, James knew she had fallen asleep. He watched her as she slept, her lashes fanning against her cheekbones. The shadows under those eyes were worrisome. He was so tired, he’d have to wake her at some point during the night so he could sleep, but he hated to do so. They needed to both have energy if they were heading back to Raven tomorrow.

He leaned against the headrest. It gave him satisfaction to watch over his woman while she slept the night away. A soft sound from Carrie drew his gaze to the bed. They hadn’t spoken of what would happen to Carrie when they returned to Raven, but he figured Jules had become attached in the short time she’d known the girl—she’d saved her life, after all, and even if Jules never admitted such a thing, he had a feeling the teen had tugged at the void that had been lingering in her life. Carrie would be welcome at Raven, like all new residents were.

Premature much?

He shut out that voice that reminded him the girl could still die. The plans he was making could be snuffed out as fast as a single spark could ignite a whole state-of-the-art underground structure.

He leaned down and brushed his lips against Jules’s forehead simply so he could keep her taste on his lips. They were tired and scared, but he couldn’t fight that guilty flare of happiness. He stared out the huge picture window.

He wondered if the world had been different, would this have been his life? A sexy wife and a few kids, a home in the country, a garden and some recreational hunting?

Or would he have been cynical and jaded, a playboy who went through women like tissues?

He almost snorted at that image. Drama was so not his thing.

An hour passed, or maybe two, he didn’t know. He dozed, despite his best efforts. The choked, retching sound coming from the bed jerked him back to wakefulness.

“Shit.”

He may as well have sounded a gunshot. Jules startled awake, her hand reaching for her knife on the table. “Wha—?”

“The girl.” Unceremoniously, he pushed her aside and dashed to Carrie’s side. The teen was twisted in her sheets, sweat beaded across her brow. Her eyes were half open and staring sightlessly across the room. As James watched helplessly, she sat upright and vomited what little was in her stomach.

He supported her shoulders and rubbed her back, trying to recall every last thing he’d ever read about medical care for those stricken with the Illness. Carrie’s skin was burning so hot it singed his skin.

God forbid the fever reach her brain. She’d be dead before she could turn. He injected calm he didn’t quite feel into his voice. “Jules, why don’t you grab us some more sheets and towels.” When he received no response, he glanced up, wondering if Jules was in shock.

No. The room was empty. James smiled grimly and returned his attention to Carrie. If he had to be in a life-or-death situation, he would only want to be in it with Jules.

Jules had already cleared the room by the time James had started speaking, her mind sorting through their meager supplies. She shoved her switchblade in her pocket and ran to the hall closet, where she found a pile of folded sheets and towels.

Peripherally, she was aware of Erik coming into the hall. He was shirtless but appeared alert. “What happened?”

“Carrie’s fever is spiking,” she snapped, and darted back to the room.

Over the next several hours, Jules began to pray the teen would revert back to the sleep she’d been in since their escape. That had been healing. This was most definitely not.

Jules hadn’t seen a lot of compromised victims, but surely their Illness couldn’t be any worse than this. The girl’s fever continued to spike while periodic seizures racked her body. Awful retching sounds came from her throat as she vomited.

“Is this what it was like for you?” James asked Erik tiredly as he returned from the bathroom, where he’d rinsed out the sick bucket.

Erik looked up from where he was sitting behind Carrie, supporting her back against his broad chest. For the first time since she had been reunited with him, Jules saw something other than rage, panic or stubbornness in those changed silver eyes.

Fear. She saw fear.

“No. I wasn’t as sick as this, not ever.”

There wasn’t much to say in response to that.

Pray no one attacks us.
The three of them were so distracted, they wouldn’t even notice if someone took a battering ram to the door and its meager fortifications.

“We might as well make her comfortable,” James said reasonably, when he asked for Erik’s help in changing the sheets for the fourth time.

Because she’s going to die.
Tears burned Jules’s eyes. She couldn’t hide from the truth any longer, and she knew it was pointless to try. How could they save this fragile, too-thin girl?

Erik placed the girl back on the freshly changed sheets, where the poor thing whimpered and then lay still. Large circles ringed her eyes. She had lost so much weight over the past couple of days—weight she couldn’t begin to spare—her skin looked like it had been stretched over her skull.

“I promised her I wouldn’t let her die.” Erik’s words were so low, Jules could barely hear them. He was studying Carrie, his face carved in stoic suffering.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” James’s words were firm. “It sounds like you guys did everything right.”

Erik didn’t appear to hear his words. He sank down by the side of the bed and grasped Carrie’s hand. He bowed his head and raised her wrist to his lips. “After I changed, they were always trying to figure out if they could isolate whatever was in me to change others. Trying to force me to bite others.”

James stiffened. “The reasoning makes some sense.”

Jules frowned. “What are you talking about?”

James didn’t take his gaze from where the hybrid sat on the bed, his fingers feathering over the girl’s pronounced veins. “He wants to bite her. Purposefully infect her with his saliva.”

“
Ay cabr
ó
n.
You aren’t serious. We aren’t running clinical trials right now.”

Face grim, Erik glared at both of them. “This may be her only chance.”

Jules didn’t hesitate. She picked up her gun from the table and pointed it. Friend or no friend, she wasn’t about to allow this. “The hell you are. Drop her wrist. Now.”

In the next heartbeat, he had opened his mouth and sank his incisors into her wrist.

Fucker called her bluff.
Jules ran to him then and tried to dislodge the girl’s arm. But she was no match for the man, strength-wise, and she was terrified of hurting Carrie should his fangs tear her open.

“You can’t do this! You’re putting too many variables into play. You could kill her faster.” She tugged harder and managed to dislodge his mouth. “She could turn into you—us—if you do this.”

“I’d rather she be like us than dead,” Erik said. Blood stained his teeth. Carrie’s blood.

Jules saw the truth in that, an echo of James’s own words to her. “She hasn’t given her consent,” she said weakly. “This is no different from what the doctors did to you, Erik.”

Those silver eyes pinned her. “Did I ask your consent when I rescued you off the streets?”

She shook her head, mute.

“I didn’t let you die then. I won’t let her die now.” His big hand smoothed over Carrie’s sweaty hair, and he bent his head. “Her family is all dead. I was the one who kept her alive for the past year. I was the one who promised I would get her out, that I would save her.” Tears escaped from his eyes, stunning Jules. “I give consent for her. If she wants to hate me later, she can. I’d be thrilled if she was alive to hate me.”

“Jules.”

She stopped and looked up at James. Fatigue and resignation shadowed his eyes. “Let him.”

“What?”

“Let him do this. He might be right. She’s going to die if he doesn’t.”

On shaky legs, Jules stood. Erik returned his head to Carrie’s wrist, resuming his feeding.

She couldn’t find fault with the passion and determination Erik was displaying. After all, that was what had saved her life. Besides, she was also part Shadow now. Wasn’t he right? Wasn’t it better that she was alive like this than dead as a human?

They watched the girl, all of them. Erik bandaged Carrie’s wrist with gauze before standing. His face was focused, as if he could will the girl to live and thrive.

Carrie gave one breath. Another.

They weren’t the same as before. These were harsher, as if Carrie was struggling to choke air past a foreign obstacle in her lungs. Her breath was coming in shallow rasps, wheezing past her lips.

Not quite a death rattle. But very close.

Erik took a step back, his head shaking. His eyes were wide and wild. “It didn’t work.”

“We don’t know that yet,” James said.

“No. It didn’t work. She’s still going to die.” Anguish was written in every line of his face and body. “All this time. All this time I’ve been hoarding what’s in me, and it cannot even save this innocent. Dear God.” His voice broke on the last word. He pivoted and left the room, running as if the hounds of hell were after him.

“Erik!” Jules started to go after him, but James grasped her arm.

“Stay with the girl. I’ll get him.”

“No, I can go. It’s not light out, there could be Shadows…”

“Jules.”

She looked at him. He shook his head. “I can handle Shadows. Trust me.”

It went against her grain to sit here in safety while someone else braved the bad outdoors. “I don’t want you in danger.”

“Tough. That’s part of what we talked about, remember? Let me take some of your load.” Worry darkened his eyes. “Besides, if Carrie should… I know it’s not by much, but you know her better than me. Someone who knows her should be with her.”

In case Carrie died. Smart man. Nothing else could have convinced her to let him go in her stead. A person shouldn’t pass away with only a stranger for company.

Jules nodded, her throat feeling like someone had shoved a golf ball down it. “Yeah. Okay. Be careful and hurry back. Here, don’t go unarmed.” She gave him her knife and gun.

“I will be careful.” He accepted the weapons, gave her a kiss on the forehead and squeezed her hand.

The room felt empty after he left. Jules returned to sit at Carrie’s side. She felt like a pressure cooker, bubbling over with all of the emotions rattling inside of her. The unease that came with depending on someone else. Grief for the dying Carrie, worry for Erik and James.

She smoothed Carrie’s hair back from her sweaty forehead. “I’ve let too many people in, Carrie.”

Of course, the girl didn’t respond. So Jules bowed her head and tried to remember the few prayers she knew.

Chapter Nineteen

Tracking the larger man was easy. All James had to do was follow the impressions Erik had created in the dew-soaked ground. He wished he had brought his flashlight, but his eyes were adjusted enough to allow him to see around him.

Being outside at a time when Shadows could still be roaming wasn’t something he was thrilled about. But having Jules wandering out here was a far more stressful proposition.

He hadn’t been bullshitting her. He did think it was important for Carrie to have someone who knew her, however vaguely, by her side should she not make it. Yet he couldn’t deny a chauvinistic urge to spare Jules any danger he could. She may have racked up a greater headcount than him, but he was capable enough.

James’s lips curved in a humorless smile. This journey had done wonders for his self-confidence, if nothing else.

Still, he hated being so far from the house. He kept glancing behind him, more than a little disturbed when it vanished from view. Jules’s gun was in one hand, her knife in the other.

Erik couldn’t wait for sunlight to go running out into the fields?

No. He got that the guy was upset. He would be empathetic, damn it. If nothing else, he could take comfort in knowing Jules and Carrie were safe.