and lines, but tight with care, disquiet, and trouble.
“It’s just water and sugar.” His voice was back to kind, its low timbre soothing and warm.
“Lime Gatorade,” the other one amended.
“Talia, I’m Adam Thorne. This is my friend, Custo Santovari. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
A million questions seeped through her confusion. They hurt almost as much as her body. But one superseded them all and was worth the energy it cost to form the words.
“Am I crazy?”
He smiled. “No. The world’s gone crazy, but you’re just fine. It took an amazing amount of courage to elude the wraiths for so long. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything touch you.”
Adam stooped and lifted her. Her body pressed against his chest, an arm pinned uncomfortably tight between them. He smelled good—a hint of citrus coming off his jaw, darkened by the labor of the day.
At her hip, wetness spread as the dry sheet absorbed water from his clothes.
Down a narrow hallway. Concrete floors. Long, fluorescent tubes running overhead. Then out into the night across a tarmac to a small plane, white stairs folded down as if awaiting the president or vacationers from an island getaway.
Adam didn’t pause at the stairs, but powered up them, his heart drumming against her side with the extra work of her weight. He maneuvered her inside, passed the bulk of a wall and through a door to tuck her into a buttery leather seat.
She was hot, sweat prickling at her scalp, and she couldn’t quite seem to catch her breath. He reclined the seat to engage a footrest. A drink appeared at her side from an attendant she had not noticed on boarding. The cabin both spun and tilted at the same time.
Adam brought the glass to her lips. “Easy now.”
Cool fluid filled her mouth, splashed her throat, and dripped down her chin. The cabin lost its color and dimmed. Her darkness rolled over her. Claimed her again.
“Where’s the goddamned doctor?” Adam shouted.
She reached out blindly for something to hold on to, desperate to keep from drowning. She found Adam, his strength an anchor in the storm of shadows shuddering around her. And beyond their deep, layered depths: Glowing red eyes. Black wind. The devil lurking in the darkness.
Adam watched as Talia descended into a series of tremors, black irises swallowed by dilating pupils.
He dropped the glass he held to her lips and found it again when his knee crushed the broken shards as he knelt to restrain her hands, striking out in clumsy defense at imagined attackers. The cabin went black, lights dimming as the sound of the engine distorted to a hiss, then roared back to life.
Shit. One emergency at a time, please.
Adam fought through the dark to grip Talia’s wrists so that she didn’t harm herself. The lights flickered back on. Good.
He peered down into her eyes, willing her condition to stabilize. “Help’s coming. You’re going to be all right. Stay with me, Talia. Just hold on.”
Her trembling abated, breath ragged, pulse wild under his fingers. Skin burning again.
Behind him, the plane’s door thumped closed as the handlebar engaged to lock for flight. Adam glanced over his shoulder. Custo accompanied a short Asian man bearing two large satchels marked with a red cross and a middle-aged woman holding another.
“She just had some sort of a seizure,” Adam informed them.
Talia shuddered again under his arms, but he held fast. He caught the moment her lids closed over the whites of her eyes. And— damn it— the lights of the airplane flickered into darkness as the engine whined again.
“Doctor!” Adam barked, then said more quietly, “It’s okay, Talia. Hold on. Help is here.”
But help didn’t arrive. The cabin of the plane remained blackened while Talia trembled uncontrollably on the seat. Adam’s heart thudded as he tried in vain to control and comfort her simultaneously.
“Custo!” No answer. Adam couldn’t see a damn thing in the darkness.
“It’s just water and sugar.” His voice was back to kind, its low timbre soothing and warm.
“Lime Gatorade,” the other one amended.
“Talia, I’m Adam Thorne. This is my friend, Custo Santovari. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
A million questions seeped through her confusion. They hurt almost as much as her body. But one superseded them all and was worth the energy it cost to form the words.
“Am I crazy?”
He smiled. “No. The world’s gone crazy, but you’re just fine. It took an amazing amount of courage to elude the wraiths for so long. You’re safe now. I won’t let anything touch you.”
Adam stooped and lifted her. Her body pressed against his chest, an arm pinned uncomfortably tight between them. He smelled good—a hint of citrus coming off his jaw, darkened by the labor of the day.
At her hip, wetness spread as the dry sheet absorbed water from his clothes.
Down a narrow hallway. Concrete floors. Long, fluorescent tubes running overhead. Then out into the night across a tarmac to a small plane, white stairs folded down as if awaiting the president or vacationers from an island getaway.
Adam didn’t pause at the stairs, but powered up them, his heart drumming against her side with the extra work of her weight. He maneuvered her inside, passed the bulk of a wall and through a door to tuck her into a buttery leather seat.
She was hot, sweat prickling at her scalp, and she couldn’t quite seem to catch her breath. He reclined the seat to engage a footrest. A drink appeared at her side from an attendant she had not noticed on boarding. The cabin both spun and tilted at the same time.
Adam brought the glass to her lips. “Easy now.”
Cool fluid filled her mouth, splashed her throat, and dripped down her chin. The cabin lost its color and dimmed. Her darkness rolled over her. Claimed her again.
“Where’s the goddamned doctor?” Adam shouted.
She reached out blindly for something to hold on to, desperate to keep from drowning. She found Adam, his strength an anchor in the storm of shadows shuddering around her. And beyond their deep, layered depths: Glowing red eyes. Black wind. The devil lurking in the darkness.
Adam watched as Talia descended into a series of tremors, black irises swallowed by dilating pupils.
He dropped the glass he held to her lips and found it again when his knee crushed the broken shards as he knelt to restrain her hands, striking out in clumsy defense at imagined attackers. The cabin went black, lights dimming as the sound of the engine distorted to a hiss, then roared back to life.
Shit. One emergency at a time, please.
Adam fought through the dark to grip Talia’s wrists so that she didn’t harm herself. The lights flickered back on. Good.
He peered down into her eyes, willing her condition to stabilize. “Help’s coming. You’re going to be all right. Stay with me, Talia. Just hold on.”
Her trembling abated, breath ragged, pulse wild under his fingers. Skin burning again.
Behind him, the plane’s door thumped closed as the handlebar engaged to lock for flight. Adam glanced over his shoulder. Custo accompanied a short Asian man bearing two large satchels marked with a red cross and a middle-aged woman holding another.
“She just had some sort of a seizure,” Adam informed them.
Talia shuddered again under his arms, but he held fast. He caught the moment her lids closed over the whites of her eyes. And— damn it— the lights of the airplane flickered into darkness as the engine whined again.
“Doctor!” Adam barked, then said more quietly, “It’s okay, Talia. Hold on. Help is here.”
But help didn’t arrive. The cabin of the plane remained blackened while Talia trembled uncontrollably on the seat. Adam’s heart thudded as he tried in vain to control and comfort her simultaneously.
“Custo!” No answer. Adam couldn’t see a damn thing in the darkness.
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