Chapter Sixteen

Selena

No Matter How Heavy, Feelings Still Float

The adrenaline from all the action still had my blood ringing in my ears, my heart racing. I couldn’t stop looking at the ooze stains on the ground. Questions flew through my brain too fast to focus on one, but I pushed them aside for now. I had to concentrate.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around being in Dillan’s arms. The crisp, clean scent of soap filled my senses. Considering the rotting corpse smell still in the air, inhaling eau du Dillan was a welcome change. My face fit in the hollow of his neck and collarbone. It was an all access pass to the yummy. I couldn’t help myself. I closed my eyes and breathed in.

When my brain decided to work properly again, the warmth spreading through me turned icy. Dillan Sloan. Me. Hugging? No vision could have predicted it. Murder, maybe. But hugging? I must have hit my head and woken up in an alternate universe, one where Dillan was actually a nice guy.

I felt his erratic heartbeat against my chest as he crushed me to him. The urge to push away became overwhelming, no matter how good being in his arms felt. I needed to get away. Not far. Just enough to make sense of what just happened.

I tried taking a step back. “Dillan—”

“No,” he said, his voice muffled by my hair.

Maybe I misheard him. “Huh?”

His arms tightened around me. I sighed at his body heat against mine. It felt like a blanket on a rainy day—comforting and safe. Nothing like the arrogant Dillan I knew.

“No.” A hint of pleading crept into his tone. “Not yet. Don’t move yet.”

Some part of me wished I could erase what I’d just heard. But another part of me—the crazy part—was really happy for some reason. His stance tense and muscles rigid.

“It’s okay.” I pressed my cheek into the hollow I fit into. “Everything’s okay now.”

How’d I go from ready to die to comforting the guy who helped save everyone else? Shouldn’t I be the one freaking out here? I knew, when those things came at me, I would do everything possible to keep them from the house. A small voice inside my head I’d never heard before told me to fight. And fight I did. Then I grabbed Dillan’s sword and actually cut one of them. I actually got to hold a freakin’ badass sword, and it felt oh so right. In what universe did that happen? Not in mine. And yet…

I pushed aside my confusion. Maybe I was in shock. It seemed I wasn’t dying today, so I had time to figure stuff out. Dillan buried his face into my hair and inhaled. His arms loosened their death grip, and his tense muscles eased. He let go of me in stages. First, he lifted his head. Then he took a small step back until his hands on my shoulders were our only physical connection. From the way he looked at me, his eyes seemed to memorize each line, plane, and angle of my face. The moonlight made his blue eyes shine. I shivered. I had no idea what to make of his intensity.

“What?” His brow wrinkled.

“Just…” I wanted to ask him why he looked at me that way, but it wasn’t a safe topic. “Those things…I can’t wrap my head around what happened.” And then some.

He let go of my shoulders, leaving me cold. “You’re in shock. It’s not every day you’re defending yourself against puppets. It’s a rush.”

The hardening of his face irritated me. “You sound like you know more than you’re telling me.”

His gaze fell. “I don’t get what they’re doing here.”

“Oh, yeah? What do you think they were after?”

Dillan performed a dramatic shrug. “I honestly don’t know.”

My stomach curdled. “Do you think they wanted to eat us?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “No, that’s the undead. Puppets don’t eat anything because they’re already D-E-A-D. Weren’t you listening?”

“Of course I was!”

“There’s a difference between hearing and understanding.”

I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration. Only my iffy balance and throbbing knee stopped the impulse. This Dillan split personality thing gave me a headache. One second he wouldn’t let me go, like his life depended on me being there for him, and now he went back to being Mr. Rock Star National Geographic. Arguing with him…when was I going to learn it was useless? I was a masochist, because I kept coming back for more. To prove I’d been listening…

“What’s the difference—” I cut myself off. Asking meant I believed in what he’d said, or what had happened.

His gaze returned to the black slime. “Puppets are usually under the control of someone called a Maestro.”

“A what?”

“A dark channeler,” he said like I should know this stuff. “The technical term is Conjurer.”

Shock over how normal he sounded hit me. “You actually believe what you’re saying, don’t you?”

“After being attacked, I’d think you’d be the believer.”

“We’re not talking about denial here. Even I know what I saw. It’s just my brain’s having a hard time accepting it.” A lie. A part of my brain—a deep part I never thought I had—understood. That voice that told me to fight. Dillan asked me what I was. At first I thought he might know about my visions. Now I wasn’t too sure. “Your cuff turns into a sword. If that isn’t something out of Lord of the Rings, I don’t know what is.”

“Doubt Tolkien had swords like mine in his books. Come on. We should head back. They’re probably worried by now.”

He didn’t have to clarify who “they” were. The thought of Kyle, Riona, or Garret wondering where I’d disappeared to, and the possibility of them looking for me, worried me.

“You don’t think there are more of those things out here, do you?” My stomach tumbled. I didn’t want Valley View to turn into a bad version of The Walking Dead. “We have to warn everyone.”

“No!” He whirled back so fast I almost fell.

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean,” his hands clenched into tight fists, “there aren’t any more. They’d have attacked by now. Plus, they won’t believe you.”

My brow puckered. He had a point, but still, I trusted Kyle. “They’ll believe me. All I have to do is say I—”

The sudden interest in his expression stopped me from completing the sentence. Shit! I almost told him I had visions. This guy I hardly knew and who lived to torture me almost found out about the freak in me. Over my dead…my eyes returned to the black goo. I swallowed. Too soon.

“Finish what you were about to say.” He stepped closer, eyes never leaving mine, watching my every move.

“You’re probably right,” I said. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the fear of how stupid I’d been, thinking I could fight the puppets, was slowly sinking in. “Even I don’t believe me. But we should at least warn them about something.”

The predatory look in his eyes disappeared when he mulled over my words. “We can say feral dogs chased you. That’s why you hurt your knee. I was taking a walk, saw you, and helped scare them off.”

“I’m pretty dense sometimes, but even I know that’s not gonna fly.”

“Any better ideas?” That obnoxious eyebrow lifted.

“Fine. We’ll go with that.” I pointed at him. “You better not suck at lying.”

“You don’t know me well enough.”

He was right. The part of me that conveniently forgot how mean he could be actually wanted to get to know him better. This was probably the crazy part, because no sane girl should want to get to know Dillan Sloan better. It had DANGER written all over it.

“Can you walk?” He hovered close.

“Of course I—”

He swept me into his arms, carrying me like we were newlyweds about to cross the threshold. I yelped at the renewed electric charge sprinting beneath my skin. I’d never been so embarrassed in my life. That included watching Grams and Gramps sing an off key duet at the Spring Fling.

“Put me down!”

“Stop squirming, or I’ll knock you out.”

Insulted, I said, “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned like the devil. “If it means I can carry you in peace, then I will. Bad enough that you’re the human socket.”

“I so am not. Maybe you’re the one who’s been electrocuting me this whole time.”

“That’s not the issue right now. All I’m saying is it helps sell the lie better if you’re unconscious. So if you don’t shut up…”

He didn’t have to finish for me to know what he’d meant. I crossed my arms and glared. “I hate you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thank God it didn’t take us long to run into a charging Garret. His suit jacket was gone, along with his silk tie, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hulking figure was difficult to ignore even in the purple darkness of the forest.

Dillan—without consulting me, BTW—decided not to use the path. I groaned, too humiliated by being carried like a princess. Now that Garret saw us, I wanted to shrink away. Never to be seen or heard from again. They’d put my picture in milk boxes. That kind of disappearing act.

“We were just about to look for you.” He sounded like a general reprimanding a lower-ranking officer. But before Dillan could explain, Garret interrupted him. “Selena! Are you hurt?” When I didn’t answer fast enough, he hurled the question at my knight in not-so-shining armor. “Is she hurt?”

The utter menace in Garret’s expression made him look like a man who knew people who specialized in making annoyances disappear, no questions asked. I almost volunteered Dillan.

Speaking of guys I wanted to disappear, he said, “She’s fine.”

“If she’s fine, why are you carrying her?” Garret had his hands on his hips.

“I fell and hit my knee a little. That’s why Dillan’s carrying me,” I finally said, sucking up what was left of my pride.

“Do you need a doctor?” Garret’s words still came out as barks mixed with worry.

“I think I just need some ice and a good night’s sleep.” I flicked my gaze at Dillan. “You can put me down now.”

He glared at Garret a second longer before he glanced down at me, his grip tightened. “What changed from me finding you and now? Did your knee miraculously heal or something?”

“I think I’ll take it from here.” Garret reached out.

In a dizzying whirl, I found myself exchanged from one set of arms to another. I wanted to scream, but when my head rested on Garret’s shoulder, the last of my adrenaline buzz faded. A strange, warm sensation seeped into me. Suddenly, I was sleepy. Like I didn’t want to think about what had happened between me, the puppets, and Dillan—not specifically in that order.

I wrinkled my nose at Garret’s expensive, woodsy cologne, and longed for Dillan’s soapy, clean scent. A pang of unexpected loneliness hit me. Irrationally, an urge to reach out for him and crawl back into his arms came over me. Just an argument ago, murdering him in his sleep seemed possible. Now, I melted into a whimpering heap. This wasn’t me.

“That’s right, sweet, rest. We’ll get you inside,” Garret whispered.

I was vaguely aware of his words. A new wave of warmth caused my eyelids to droop, as if forcing me to sleep.

“And you!” He snapped his chin toward Dillan. “You have some explaining to do.”

The last thing I saw was Dillan stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Can’t wait.”