Finite: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Sephlem Trials Book 4) Page 3

  I wipe the tear threatening to fall from my eye. I miss you so much. I’m so sorry. If I’d known what he’d do, I never would’ve brought you out there.

  Tracey, not for one more second do I want you to regret the decisions you’ve made. Everyone makes decisions they may question one day. We each wish we’d done something different with our lives, but just because it’s bad right now doesn’t mean it won’t get better. It will. You must hold on and live on. Live outside of your misery and discomfort. The will is in you, honey, and even if you don’t want it for your family, you can want it for him and want it for yourself. You must care enough for your pain to end.

  Him? Him who?

  “Black Eyes, are you okay?” Laine interrupts, an edge of concern in his tone.

  Mom? Who? Mom! I shout.

  “Black Eyes!”

  “Shut up!”

  Mom! I wait. I listen for her, but there’s nothing but the blowing of heat from the vents, the rumble of the engine, the even breaths of the four of us.

  “Dammit, Black Eyes!” Laine slams on the breaks, and I smash into the back of the passenger’s seat. “Don’t do this right now. Fight it off!” He shakes me by my shoulders.

  I shove his hands away. Calmly, I mutter, “Just drive. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks, examining me as if the evidence of our enemy trying to take possession of me is written on my face.

  “Yes,” I mumble, ignoring my reflection as I peer out the window. I want to hear her voice again. Am I this close to losing my mind, or have I already lost it?

  I step out of the car and push the door closed. My hands shake as I marvel at the familiar two-story house. There are so many corners I won’t be able to see, too many areas someone can hide and I’ll never know. Nervous butterflies rip through my stomach, keeping my shaking legs glued to the ground.

  Little Nathan meets me halfway to the front door, frozen in the driveway that’s big enough to fit a RV. “I won’t be able to stay here,” I say.

  The beige front door opens, and out runs a toddler, charging off the porch to Little Nathan. The boy jumps in his arms and asks, “Who’s your friend you’ve brought home?” Waiting by the door, Taylor stands, her hand clamped over her mouth as she stares at me.

  “This is your aunt Tracey, Jason,” Little Nathan tells him as he drops a soft pat on my shoulder.

  “No. My aunt name Ann, mamember, Natan?” he says, scratching behind his ear. He looks over at me but looks away when our eyes meet.

  Little Nathan adjusts a cloth bracelet on Jason’s wrist. “Yes. But Tracey’s your aunt too. Want to say hi?”

  “I guess,” Jason shyly replies. Little Nathan places him to the ground, and Jason stands before me, eyeing me with skepticism. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his blue jeans and rocks forward on his toes. “My uncle Natan,” he points at him, “says you’re my aunt, um, Tracebe. But I only got one aunt.” He throws up two fingers. “Are you my aunt too?” A mixture of Taylor and Justin stands almost the height of my knees, looking up at me with confusion in his eyes. Dark hair pulled into a braided ponytail hangs down his back like Justin’s and shades of green swirls in his eyes like Taylor’s. He awaits my response with an impatient huff. “Come on. Are ya or not?”

  I squat, looking over his Burdened-fleshed skin, and brush my thumb over his cheek. His red and blue plaid shirt offsets the complexion by only a bit. When he parts his lips, his sharpened teeth are easily seen, same with his black, brittle fingernails. I meet his vibrant eyes and say, “I’m Tracey. I am—was—Nathan’s mate.” He looks away from me to Little Nathan, and I cut him off, saying, “Not that one, though they do look a lot alike.” I meet Little Nathan’s eyes and regret doing so. Swallowing the growing lump in my throat, I finish, “Your other uncle Nathan.”

  Jason’s mouth falls open. I take it for shock until an ear bleeding scream breaks from the small child. I throw my hands over my ears and drop to my knees, unable to shield myself from his shriek. Squeezing my eyes shut, I cringe against the growing pain striking through my head, soaring through my body like electric shocks. “Stop him!” I manage through clenching my teeth.

  Stoned by silence, I fall onto my side and relax, parting my lids to the sight of a dimly tinted world. Placing my palms to the freezing ground, I sit up, gaze dancing across the darkened sky. The like-night surroundings startle me until a flush of heat rushes over my skin.

  “Tracey!” Little Nathan shouts, snatching Jason from the ground, out of the way of a wave of fire rippling away from me.

  I jump to my feet and swipe my hands against each other, hurrying to put out the flames. A bubble seems to pop, opening my senses to other’s emotions and presences that are striking me like shot arrows, hitting me in my chest. I stumble backward, away from their emotional states, but they stick with me on my retraction.

  “The hell is happening to me?” I yell, falling to the grass where snow has melted and mud soaks my sweats. Something takes a hold of me, crawling over me, seeming to stitch me to the ground; my arms first, legs, and then my neck, right up to my head and down to my feet. My breaths quicken, but my heart slows. I jerk to break free, but it’s useless.

  An icy clutch breaks me from my invisible captor. “Hey!” Bright white eyes look down at me. They somewhat beg and demand me to get a freaking grip. “You’re okay,” he assures, helping me stand. “Blink long and slow.”

  Breathing in, I follow his advice. The air I suck tastes sour, and when I release it, it feels like fire. Coughing, I nearly hurl.

  “Hey, Black Eyes. Look at me.” Skin pale and hair so blond it could pass as white, Laine, the oh so caring Nemanite, a lifelong enemy to Burdened Sephlems, comforts me.

  The tint in my eyes fades. Greens, blues, and reds wash the earth with color.

  “I feel everything,” I tell him, looking over my arms brought to life by twisting vines. One on my back moves in a s-like motion and the thorns on them stab me as they all slither about their areas on my body. Those on the back of my hands smolder, causing the blistering air to react to the heat.

  Laine takes my hands in his and lessens the effect with his ice-cold clutch. “Let’s stay outside for a while.”

  “Is she okay?” Jason whispers to Taylor, now at the front door, cradled in his mother’s arms.

  A flock of birds pass above us, and I hear their wings flapping and wind brushing through their feathers. The oncoming wind whips around the homes and rustles the tree’s leaves and the grass. “Can you hear that?” I ask Laine.

  He looks up, asking, “What?”

  “Everything,” I mutter. “Four houses down, a mother’s reading her daughter Hansel and Gretel, while water’s boiling on the stove. Someone’s singing Otis Redding’s I’ve Been Loving You Too Long.” I grab his arm and run my finger along the vein in its crux to his wrist. “The blood’s rushing through your veins so fast it sounds like a raging river.”

  “That’s not blood.” I meet his eyes. “It’s electricity,” he says.

  I break our clutch and pass him for the front door. “I have it under control now.” Entering the house, I take it in with a swollen heart.

  Bum-rushed from the side, I’m knocked off my feet. “I missed you so much!” Carmen cries, hugging me tighter than I can stand, but I take it. She lays kisses on my cheek.

  Carmen’s just as petite as I remember; haven’t changed a bit. “I missed you too,” I mumble, keeping her orange-ish-brown curls from getting in my mouth.

  As she jumps off me, she yanks me to my feet. Her shoulder wide smile draws one from me. I greet Courtney and Cart sitting on the stairs and enter the kitchen to greet Lana and hug Taylor. It’s a line of smiling faces, all but Jason’s. He sits on the counter, hands in his lap, staring me down with a contemplative eye. Maybe it was something in his yell that changed me. Maybe it was just being back here. But whatever happened . . . everything that was gone returns. I preferred it in my bubble. I can feel the tension in everyone, the unc
ertainty, the joy, the peace. I want to stop it, to turn the lights off, and to sink against the squeaking hardwood floor.

  A Million Reasons and One

  I climb the stairs and turn down the hall leading to the bedroom. It gets longer and longer with every step I take. The doors are closed. I take my bottom lip between my chattering teeth and stuff my shaking hand into my pocket.

  The door knob is freezing against my sweaty palm. I turn it and slowly push the door open. There’s nothing inside but furniture and old memories. I cross the floor and sit on the bed, then I slowly lie back. Carefully, I slide my hands over the quilted blanket as I wrap my mind around me resting on this bed that two once shared but should now comfort one.

  I feel him here, as though he lies beside me, sleeping, breaths washing the side of my neck. Nathan’s more present here than in my memory. His scent brushes my nose.

  Too afraid to close my eyes, I stare at the ceiling fan and do my best to ignore the amount of space in this room.

  “We didn’t want to change anything.” Carmen sits beside me. “Your clothes are still in the closet. Everything is as you left it.” She pats my leg twice. “We’re ordering a pizza if you want to shower and then come down to join us.”

  I exhale and let my lids fall over my eyes. “How can his scent still overwhelm this room? How can Nathan still be so alive here?”

  “Hmm. I smell fresh linen and vacuumed carpet.” She sucks in a deep breath through her nose. “Yeah. I don’t smell Nathan at all.”

  Sitting up, I shake my head. “I knew I shouldn’t have come back.” I snatch my bag from the floor and head for the door.

  “No.” Carmen jumps in front of my exit. “You can’t leave, Tracey.”

  “You don’t understand,” I say, tears threatening their escape. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose your parents, your best friend, and your boyfriend and have to return and wake up in a life that’s—”

  “I,” she emphasizes, shoving an aggressive point against her chest. “I don’t know what it’s like?” She snaps, “My mother killed my father and took her life, leaving my brothers and me alone when we were just kids. Nathan and Scott were my best friends, they were family! I’ve lived this life you claim you can’t return to for my entire life! Both of my brothers are Burdened! I’ve lost countless friends while working with those two trying to control their beasts. I know and have experienced exactly what you’re going through my entire life, Tracey! And I didn’t get through it running away from it. I get through it by leaning on the dwindling family we have left.” She wipes tears from her chin with the back of her hand. Her reddening eyes tremble as she stares in mine. “You have a one up on me because losing your mate is a bitch, a far worse loss than I know. But that doesn’t excuse you from the promise you made to our family. We feel your hurt too. We’re here to help you through this. Give us a chance.” She shifts her gaze away from me and looks around the room. As she’s dragging her sleeve over her cheeks, she adds, “If it still smells like Nathan in here, I’ll run out and get some air freshener or incense. Or, we can trade rooms. Whatever will help.”

  I draw my bottom lip between my teeth and bite back my words. Throwing my arms around her neck, I squeeze her tight. How insensitive of me. Knowing Carmen has had it bad for quite some time, I shouldn’t have compared her life to mine. She walks around like everything is okay, like nothing ever bothers her. She’s so strong. “I love you, Carmen. Thanks.”

  “Me too. Now,” she draws back, dragging her sleeve over her nose, “shower and come down for pizza.”

  Mom’s words flood my mind, and the warm water patters against my head. ‘Live outside of your misery and discomfort. You must care enough for your pain to end.’ This is my problem. I don’t care. What’s kept me living this long? Hope? Hope that this is actually all a hallucination and someone is snapping their fingers before my eyes, trying to break me out of it? Like Jason’s cry broke me out of my bubble.

  This shower is far better than the one in my apartment. I stand under the sprayer and lean my head back so the water will rain down on my face. The thirsty vines curving and swirling along my body seem to soak it up. Their happiness draws a small smile from me. A little relief is better than none at all.

  A graze brushes my arm.

  I jump back, swiping water from my eyes to see who’s here. Drawing back the shower curtain, I poke my head out. “Hello?”

  The room is empty.

  I’m alone.

  Pulling the curtain closed, I shrug away the mishap and return to my shower.

  There’s another graze against my shoulder, and I whip around to catch the person behind me.

  I swallow hard, breaths are quick and slow. With Nathan’s frame, a silhouette formed by the steam of the shower reaches for me. I flinch away, but he doesn’t retract. His . . . Its hand falls on my neck before cupping my cheek—the grip nothing but moisture. The steam’s perfect mold of him makes my stomach flutter. “Please,” he whispers, voice a replica of the one I remember. “See me,” he says.

  “I am so confused,” I mutter. I test the waters, reaching for his waist and can touch him as if he were here and also wet from the shower. Following through, I push my arms around his back and lay my head against his chest. He’s warm. He’s strong. “I miss you,” I whisper.

  His arms wrap around me, and he squeezes me tightly. There’s an aching groan, and he doesn’t have to say it for me to know ‘him too.’ “See me, Sparks. Just open your eyes.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “Am I hallucinating?” I dare to ask, scared of the response.

  There’s a long pause, and I tilt my head back to take in his knit expression. “Yes,” he says and slowly evaporates; slow enough for me to take hold of his hand and not release it until it’s nonexistent in mine.

  Water beating on my head, I sigh, and then I chortle. Oh yeah . . . I’ve completely lost it.

  What a Heavenly Way to Die

  The Newcombs laugh over a board game. We snatch slices of pizza from pizza boxes and cans of soda from a tray. They joke and talk about carefree days as if nothing has changed. We’re on the second round, and though it’s around one in the morning, no one’s ready to pass out. They’ve not changed a bit.

  If I’m being honest, I miss them. I’ve missed them a lot. But I didn’t keep away from them as punishment to them or because I’m selfish. I’ve always thought if Lunis was bold enough to kill my parents, and then, maybe take out Nathan, it’s certain he was picking off every one of us, and maybe those Qualms were in on it too. They stalked Nathan and me to all ends, and I thought I was keeping my family safe. But, turns out, I was causing them more pain; the separation anxiety from the missing stitch.

  I sit among a bunch of happy Newcombs rolling with a round of punches and never tapping out . . . as always. My next couple of nights being back are like this. We stay up late, and I watch them live in the now, wondering if their minds frequently travel back to the past as often as mine does.

  I wake on the living room floor, crowded by a pile of sleeping Newcombs. Little Nathan’s to my right and Carmen’s on my left. I’ve only seen Carmen once in the past few years. She’s not too happy about me shutting her out. I don’t blame her. It’s complicated to try to explain what I was going through. But Carmen’s one to sweep things under the rug, and she says I’m forgiven.

  Hmph. Sweeping it under the rug . . . That’s one way to move on.

  They each awake, one by one, Little Nathan first. We eat breakfast and sit silently, as we would back at my apartment when he would stop by. The peaceful day crawls by, and there’s a relief accompanied by being around them. It’s a battle though, because the memories are too.

  Roseland comes by with the twins and Ann. Their tight hugs are comforting and the twins light up my day. “It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen you, Tracey,” Curtis says. He’s as tall as my waist now, and his deep brown hair now brushes his neck. Cindy’s equal height to him. Doe amber eyes
stare up at me. “We’ve missed you after all this time.”

  I nod and walk away from them. Behind me, I hear Little Nathan say, “She’s still adjusting to being back.”

  Roseland responds, “We know she’ll come around in her own time. This isn’t easy, and there’s no time limit on the impact of loss.”

  Nathan’s death gathering was a long time ago, and my time there was short. As his mate—as the head of the family’s mate—I was required to show my face. There were people around I’d never seen before, names I’d never remember, people I couldn’t force myself to smile at or embrace.

  Five minutes total was all I could give to the event. I spent the first minute walking to the podium they placed before a stadium of people—Sephlems, Mulens, creatures of all kinds. The next minute was explaining Nathan had passed and will live on through our memories. The third minute was me stepping down from the podium and making my way out of there. And my fourth minute was me hitting someone who had the balls to say that Nathan’s death is a good thing because it’ll lessen the attacks on Burdened Sephlem. My fifth minute was the worst.

  I head upstairs to Carmen’s room.

  This is what being back does to me. I remember. I remember a lot, and I’ve spent a lot of time trying to forget. Sweeping it under the rug. I can’t even sleep in my bed. I’ve only been here for three nights and even as I lay on Carmen’s bed, I feel him. I hear him.

  In this room—Mom and Dad’s room. I remember sitting at the foot of the bed while Mom braided my hair. I blink, and there she stands at the foot of the bed, laughing as she unpacks her suitcase, calling Dad in to share their laughter on how the lotion exploded on his shirts. “Why’d you not pack the lotion in the cosmetic bag?” she asked. I remember laughing and telling Dad where to find the nearest cleaners.