Shrouded in Darkness (Shrouded Series) (22 page)

Then silence.

Freedom. For a while there, Malcolm, had thought he’d never be able to smell it.

He squinted into the sun. He’d made bail. Thanks to a damn good lawyer. But more importantly, he’d been released because of money. Money talked, money bought and sold people. Money was everything. Whoever said it couldn’t buy happiness fed themselves a line of bullshit because they didn’t have it.

At an early age, he’d learned quickly that money opened doors, bought allegiance, power and fame. And the only way to get there was by rubbing shoulders with the upper echelon. So he’d lied and cheated his way into a prestigious college, made the right connections and worked like a damn dog. No way would he have it all taken away now.

Malcolm brushed at the sleeves of his jacket. He couldn’t get the damn creases out. The minute he’d get home, he’d throw it in the trash. It stank of the hell-hole he’d just been in.

Well, he needed to make a little visit to Arizona. Getting out of state might be a problem, but he’d figure a way. He might have hit a wall, but he’d either climb over it or blast his way through. Nothing would stand in his way of taking care of a couple of things, or more like a couple of people.

Malcolm sneered. Oh, yeah. He hadn’t come this far to lose the game. While behind bars, he’d come up with the perfect solution and, at the same time, a way to get the formula. He’d use the weaker sex against Jake and his stupid principles. Of course, not any woman would do. Oh, no. But then again, Malcolm knew exactly which woman to use.

Flat on her back, Margot opened her eyes. The barn rested to her left, thrusting her in shadow, while to her right, pines knifed upward, stabbing into a vivid blue sky. She grew conscious of the frigid air against her exposed skin and the snow, wet and raw, seeping into her already damp jeans and hair.

Digging into the snow with stiff fingers, Margot pushed herself into a sitting position. Turning, she saw the trash can she’d hit earlier on its side. The lid had snapped off, revealing an empty interior. Harmless looking now.

Carefully, she brushed off glass intermingled with snow from her thigh, then scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Her head pounded at the sudden movement, but other than that and a few bruised muscles, she was uninjured.

A low groan sounded from behind. Stiffening, she pivoted. Glass crackled beneath her booted feet.

“Oh, God.”

Tension snapped around her limbs. Jake, whoever or whatever, lay five feet away. Pants, shoes, and an opened shirt lay before her, but where flesh and muscle would normally be exposed to the eye, there was only a void.

Cautiously, Margot walked over. Then she saw the crimson drops against the snow. Blood had seeped from what looked like a gash to Jake’s head, and then had trailed down to mesh and color a small patch of hair. The short strands were a stark contrast to the lack of substance around it.

Sucking in a lungful of air, Margot sank down beside him. She glanced down at the ground by her knees and blinked. Before her eyes, an unmarked section of snow transformed, almost imperceptible at first, then accelerated with each rapid beat of her heart.

The snow, once blinding white changed to faded pink, then dilated and darkened into a circle of vivid red. Blood. It had appeared from nowhere.

Unsettled, Margot turned back to Jake. She now realized he’d thrown himself at her to stop her from crashing into the window.

With a trembling hand, she touched where his face would normally be. Her fingers connected with skin, a jaw, then a cheek and temple as she ran them gently across where she knew a face would be. Even with the winter air all around them, what met her fingers felt warm and very much human.

By his temple, Margot touched something hot and wet, but she couldn’t see anything against her fingers.

Horrified, she suddenly knew...

Jake’s blood. Blood that must be oozing from an unseen gash to his head. For some reason after leaving his body, Jake’s blood altered back to normal, or at least what appeared normal.

Jake hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even moved from the touch of her hand. But she felt the warmth of his breath against her palm.

Memories flashed through her mind—Jake appearing only after sunset, the cries in the night, the pictures in the hall dropping, the keys...which meant Johnny’s ghost had only been some silly aspiration on her part. Margot’s throat tightened. Not even a small part of her brother’s body or soul lingered on this world. Somehow, knowing that, made Johnny’s death cut that much deeper.

Jake groaned.

She snatched her hand back.

“Margot...”

Jake’s pain-filled whisper lingered in the air. It made her realize just how fragile and vulnerable Jake really was. Inside, he was still the same man as yesterday, with the same doubts, hopes and thoughts as before. Slowly, fear of him subsided, but with it, a new fear formed. A fear for Jake’s well being. From what Margot could tell, the gash to his head looked bad.

At the unexpected touch of Jake’s palm around her wrist, Margo jerked in surprised but didn’t pull away. Warm pressure from his fingers met her skin, yet it was all so strange when that same hand was invisible to the naked eye. She took a stumbling breath.

“We need to get you to a hospital.”

“Can’t—”

“Maybe if you lean on my shoulder, I can manage to get you to the car.”

“No hospital.”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re hurt, Jake. You need stitches.”

“A hospital’s out of the question. If I show up there, what the hell do you think’s going to happen? Absolute chaos. Not just with the doctors but with the patients.” He paused and inhaled sharply. “Within minutes word will get out. Reporters, the government, everyone will swarm down on us. I can’t let that happen.”

With his hand still clasped around her wrist, Jake rose to a sitting position and swore in a low, gruff voice. . Obviously, he was in a lot of pain. Something needed to be done. But Jake had a point. The minute they both showed up at the hospital doors, people would react in ways neither one of them could predict.

“I don’t know what to do then, Jake. There’s no doctor in town. All we have is a retired vet. Joni’s on the other side of town and—”

“No.”

She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off.

“I can’t have anyone know about me, the formula, or Miltronics. Too much is at stake.”

“Then what, Jake? You’re cut bad. You’re losing a lot of blood. You need medical attention.”

“You’re going to have to do it.”

She recoiled. “What?”

“Stitch it up. You’re the only one I can trust. It’s either that or just hope to hell it heals on its own.”

Margot looked at what blood she could see. Even for a head wound, there seemed to be just too much of it. No doubt, more blood seeped from his cut that hadn’t yet materialized.

When it came down to it what other option did they have?

She swallowed. But even knowing that it all came down to her, Margot didn’t know if she could do it. She’d always hated blood. For God’s sake, she couldn’t even handle donating to the blood bank.

“You don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t see what I’m doing. It’s like asking a blind person to sew a quilt.”

“You’ll have to go by touch.”

After a long pause, Margot gave a jerky nod and stood. She brushed her cold hands against her jacket and held up a hand for him to clasp. She felt his fingers close over her own and the pull as he rose to his feet. He stumbled in the snow and knocked up against her. Then the unexpected weight of his body as Jake draped an arm around her shoulder almost buckled her legs from under her. Balancing his additional weight, she wrapped one arm around his waist and held onto his forearm with the other.

The snow and patches of ice sure didn’t help as they both stumbled their way up the hill. Margot clenched her jaw. She was going to get him up to the house or die trying.

Then there was Jake. She knew he tried to keep most of his weight off her, but she could tell he was losing what little energy he had from the way his body sank deeper against her own with each additional step. By the time they reached the porch, she was winded and shaking from exhaustion, while her shoulders and leg muscles burned from supporting Jake’s weight.

She had a good idea Jake felt worse than herself. Granted, Margot couldn’t see his expression as they staggered up the stairs to the house, but she could feel the tremble of his body against her own and hear the rapid, strained breathing beside her.

After they entered his bedroom, Jake sank hard onto the mattress. The bed springs groaned in protest as he stretched out across the mattress, while Margot rubbed her neck and shoulders. At the following silence and stillness from the bed, she tensed.

“Jake. Please don’t pass out on me. Not now. You probably have a concussion. Sleep’s the last thing you should be doing.”

“Tell that to my body.”

Jake’s weak attempt at humor was at least a good sign.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? I didn’t see anything.” Margot realized how ridicules that sounded. Of course she couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t anything to see.

“No broken bones I think. Probably just a couple of bruises. At least nothing serious, other than my head.”

After hurrying into the kitchen and bathroom, Margot put a bowl of hot water, several towels, antiseptic, and a small first aid kit on the bed stand beside Jake. She’d also found some thread and a package of needles. Florence Nightingale, she was not. Right now, she wished she’d seen a couple of reruns from the ER series. Actually, any television show with a hospital would have helped right now. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing.

After Margot sterilized the needle and thread with rubbing alcohol, she squared her shoulders. She needed to calm down. If only the tremor in her hand would go away! She really needed a drink right now.

No. A drink wouldn’t solve anything. In reality, it would only make it that much more dangerous by dulling her senses and clouding her judgment. Margot didn’t even want to think of what would’ve happened if she’d been drinking before all this, because it terrified the hell out of her.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. The muscles of her shoulders and back bunched with tension as she peered at the wound or what little she could see of it. At least a thin veneer of blood from before offered some visibility.

Jake must have sensed her doubts.

“Don’t worry, Margot. You’ll do fine.”

For both their sakes, she hoped he was right. She forced a smile. Jake didn’t need to know that she shook right down to her toes.

“You know, I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Margot stilled and her smile wavered. “Don’t say that. How can you? I don’t even trust myself.”

“It’s simple really. I believe in you.”

She felt the sudden sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Jake’s words moved her like none other had. No one, absolutely no one in her life had believed in her other than Johnny. Quickly, Margot looked down at the thread in her hand, wanting to, but unable to, express how much it meant to her to have Jake think highly of her.

Abruptly, Margot stood and muttered, “You give me too much power. No one’s ever put that much faith in me—including myself.”

She grabbed a towel from the nightstand and sat back down by Jake’s shoulder. Margot didn’t talk as she worked. She needed to pour all her concentration on seaming both sides of Jake’s skin together. Oh, but it was hard. She felt his silence, his pain as his breath fanned against her throat. A soft hiss slipped through his lips every time the needle punctured his skin. Margot knew she was hurting him, but she didn’t have any other choice.

A film of cold sweat covered her brow. She rubbed it off with the back of her hand.

“I’m almost done,” she whispered, gliding a thumb against the edge of his skin. Margot didn’t want to think of the blood slick and warm against her fingers. She couldn’t afford to. Otherwise, she just might lose it. “I just have a couple more stitches.”

Margot didn’t get an answer. Not that she expected one. She was probably stabbing him to death. She felt so inept.

Finally, she finished. Sitting back, Margot looked at the track of black thread. It sat there as if suspended in air. She looked away, finding the image too eerie, too hard to fathom.

“You can’t stand the sight of me, can you?”

She tensed. “Jake. I’m still in shock. It’s not like I’ve come across an invisible man before. Give me some time to take it all in.”

Margot grabbed another towel from the nightstand and wiped at her hands. Her stomach rolled with sudden nausea. No matter how hard she rubbed at skin, Jake’s blood continued to stain her hands.

“Why can I see your blood, but not the rest of you? I don’t get it.”

“It changes its composition when it leaves my body. I haven’t been able to identify the reason yet.”

She nodded, unable to comprehend the pain and anxiety he’d gone through these last couple of weeks. It was all too much. It would have broken a lesser man.

“You need your rest.” Margot stood, still having a hard time looking at him directly. “I’ll also get you some water. You’ve lost a lot of fluids.”

She didn’t give Jake a chance to respond, but slipped from the room.

When Margot came back with a glass of iced water, silence greeted her. On the bed, Jake’s prone figure remained in the same position. She didn’t know what to think. This was terrible. She couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not.

She walked closer to the bed. When she noticed the gentle rise and fall of his shirt, she sighed in relief. For one crazy second Margot thought she’d killed him with a germ-incrusted needle. Until now, she hadn’t given herself the luxury of reacting, and she particularly didn’t want to delve into her feelings. If she did—

A drink. God, she needed a glass of wine. She hungered for the way it took the edge off of everything. Not one bottle remained in the house. But the store was open. She could run to the car and—

No.