Ink and Shadows(Secret, Book, & Scone Society #4)(62)

“No, no, no no,” Nora muttered as she snapped out of her stupor and picked her way over chunks of glass and glossy rivers of olive oil and blackberry wine.

In the living room, she skirted around the toppled bookshelf and jumped over a mound of gutted pillows before running to the bedroom.

Celeste was lying on the floor, curled in the fetal position. Her face was contorted in agony. Her eyes were closed.

Nora pressed the emergency button on her phone and dropped to her knees next to Celeste. As soon as she heard a voice on the other end, she shouted that she needed an ambulance and gave the address to the apartment above Soothe. When the dispatcher asked for clarification as to the nature of the medical emergency, Nora put the phone on speaker mode.

“I don’t know,” she said in a shaky voice as her gaze moved down Celeste’s body. “There’s no blood, but she’s in terrible pain. She’s really pale, and I don’t think she can move. Her cheeks are bruised. Celeste? Can you hear me? Where does it hurt?”

Celeste opened her eyes. They rolled in their sockets as if she couldn’t control them. Nora thought she heard a sound escape through Celeste’s parted lips.

Lowering herself until her face was next to Celeste’s face, Nora repeated her question. Celeste’s reply was a strangled gurgle. A death rattle.

“Is she breathing?” asked the dispatcher.

Celeste’s breaths were shallow, liquid sighs. Each weak exhalation had a putrid smell. There was vomit in her hair and a line of spittle dripped from her mouth onto the floor.

Swallowing the terror rising in her throat, Nora squeezed Celeste’s hand. “Help is coming. Just hold on.”

Celeste struggled to fix her eyes on Nora. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks, and the blue irises shimmered with pain.

“Too late.” Her words came out as a wet lisp.

“No, they’ll be here any second. You’re a Juliana. You can do this.” Nora’s voice broke. “You’re so strong.”

Nora used her sweater to wipe away her tears. She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be calm and comforting. But she didn’t know how. Not when she was lying next to a woman caught between two worlds. As still and pale as the marble she used to carve, she already looked like a ghost.

Nora pushed Celeste’s damp hair off her forehead and caressed her cheek, avoiding the purple bruises that darkened the skin on both sides of her face. The bruises were shaped like fingertips. “What happened to you?”

Celeste’s eyes pleaded with her. “Don’t let him . . . get book . . . he sells . . . lies.”

The words had taken the last of her strength, and Celeste’s chest deflated once she’d pushed them out. But they weren’t enough. They didn’t explain why she was dying. Or why Bren had died.

Nora stroked Celeste’s face. “A man did this to you? The same man who hurt Bren? He wants your book of spells?” When Celeste didn’t respond, Nora cupped the back of Celeste’s sweat-soaked neck and begged, “Please. Don’t let him get away with this.”

Celeste seemed to swim back to the surface. There was a fierce light in her eyes as she gasped, “Wolf . . . wolf . . . bay . . . not spells . . .”

“Is he the reason you left Still Waters? Were you trying to protect the book? And Bren?”

Celeste could only manage a slow blink.

“What’s his name?” Nora asked even though Celeste was probably beyond hearing. She seemed to be receding deep inside herself to a place where she felt no pain. A place of weightlessness and light. A place where her daughter waited.

“If you tell me his name, I’ll stop him. I promise.”

Celeste’s lips trembled. It was barely more than a twitch, but Nora put her ear up to Celeste’s mouth.

Wisps of air and noise drifted out of the dying woman’s throat. The words were so faint that Nora almost didn’t catch them, but as every cell in her body homed in on these fragile sounds, the words sank into her like raindrops on sand. She heard, “Book . . . in . . . room.”

And then, Celeste was gone.

Her spark of life had winked out, leaving the room feeling colder and emptier.

*

When the paramedics entered the apartment and shouted for her, Nora didn’t respond. She didn’t look up when they rushed into the bedroom to find two women on the floor, facing each other. One woman was dead. The other was crying into her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

One of the paramedics touched Nora’s arm and said, “We need to examine your friend, okay?”

He helped her sit up.

Nora hugged her knees and stared at Celeste. “Too late,” she murmured. “We were all too late.”

Suddenly, McCabe was there.

He sat down next to Nora and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He didn’t speak. He just sat very close and rubbed big, slow circles over her back.

As he watched the paramedics check Celeste for signs of life, Nora turned to the sheriff. She studied his frown lines, the bracket around his mouth, and the broken capillaries on the side of his nose. She saw a tiny scar just under his left brow and another on his jawline, close to his ear. As she looked at him, she felt the quiet strength in his presence. Grant McCabe was solid. He was a rock. Something to grab hold of when the world tilted.

McCabe read the need in Nora’s eyes. He slipped an arm around her waist and gave her a comforting squeeze.