Scissors started up her shirt. They parted her bra, too, which didn’t make any sense because the clasp was in the back. Then he shrugged the sodden fabric off her shoulders like a jacket.
A deep freeze wafted over her shoulders as a white sheet billowed open and swaddled her. The man lifted her off her feet and gently placed her on a hard chair.
“Drink,” he said.
She complied. The sour fluid made her stomach roll.
“Did you ever find a thermometer?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No. Not part of the first-aid kit.”
The hand went heavy on her forehead again. “Is the plane ready?”
“Should be, yes,” the other answered. “The doctor will be a few more minutes.”
Plane? The straw hit her upper lip.
“Drink,” the man commanded, again.
She pulled some fluid into her mouth.
“What is this?” Her throat felt raw, voice scratchy. Speaking took too much effort.
The man crouched down near her feet. His eyes were gray-blue, like the ocean, but steady and intent under dark brows drawn together in concentration. An angry abrasion pebbled with scabs crossed his forehead below a short crop of dark hair. He had tan skin, lined slightly at the outer edges of his eyes, but not with laughter. It was a serious face, handsome in its symmetry 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 But one superseded them all and was worth the energy it cost to form the words.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. Where the hell was the doctor? Where the hell was Custo?
Securing a new plane, Adam hoped. This one was obviously not fit for flight.
Talia’s tremors subsided until only her chest hitched in shallow hiccups. Adam found her hot cheek and brushed away the twisted strands of hair that covered her face. Her chin quivered under his fingertips as she wept without tears.
Adam understood. Between the constant terror of the wraith’s pursuit and her current physical condition, Talia would need considerable time and care to return to health.
“You’re safe with me, Talia. Just rest. Everything is going to be fine.” I hope.
Adam’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark until he could just make out the shape of her face condensing into solid form. Her skin gleamed against the backdrop of shadows. Downright ghostly. Disturbingly so. Her gaze sought his, the set of her eyes unusually slanted, and she seemed to relax. The cabin lightened further.
Her features and coloring were a study in contrasts. He found the combination interesting. Strangely so. She reminded him of Jacob, perfect in some otherworldly way and yet, not. But it was the simultaneous lightening and darkening of the surroundings with her seizures that jarred him. Coincidence?
The nurse and doctor rushed forward and dropped their bags on the floor. Adam drew back, knees smarting from glass, to allow room for them to work.
No. The concurrent return of Talia’s lucidity and the shift in their environment from mute darkness to light could not be denied. The same damn thing had happened with her in the alley when darkness had blotted out the stars, the light from the street, even the glow from the apartment windows above. The wraith approached, and what had she said? Use the dark.
The wraith had not attacked until Talia had passed out, when the darkness receded.
Talia’s gaze sought Adam, her oddly tipped eyes looking to him for assurance. He forced himself to smile and nod: You’re going to be okay, now.
As Adam glanced out the window, he was surprised to find the plane had taken off during the blackout without incident. Adam lowered into a seat across the aisle from Talia and her doctor, his mind blazing through the implications.
Talia hadn’t altered the environment, only his perception of the environment. Altered the wraith’s perceptions in the alley, too.