Falling Light (Game of Shadows #2)(34)

And when you have paid it? it murmured.

She confessed in a whisper, We must still come back because we can’t go home. We have nowhere else to go.

The primeval fathomless eye seemed to smile. Sacred child, it crooned. Be at peace now and sleep.

Released, she yawned and nodded, and turned to walk back into the galley. There she climbed back into her body with the matter-of-factness of a toddler climbing into bed. She fell into a profound, deep sleep.

She had no more dreams.

Chapter Twelve

SHE WAS NEVER sure what woke her the second time.

It couldn’t have been the storm’s end. As she surfaced to wakefulness, she sensed that they had been stationary for some time. She might have been disturbed by the scratchiness of the wool blankets piled around her shoulders, or the lumpiness of the bed, or perhaps by Michael’s absence.

Whatever the cause, she yawned, rolled over and stared at the ceiling as she registered the changes in her environment.

A pale, thin light fell into the tiny wood-paneled room from the two portholes set high into the walls. The second change she noticed was the relative quiet. The roar of the storm and groans from the overstressed boat no longer assaulted her ears. Instead she could hear the quiet lap of water. The boat rocked gently as if it rested at dock, instead of pitching and tossing in high waves.

The air outside her nest felt damp and chilly on her exposed face and neck. She stretched and slipped one foot out from under the pile of blankets. Her questing toes told her the same tale.

Her body throbbed with phantom aches from wounds it hadn’t had the time to fully assimilate. She pushed down the covers and stared at herself, her pink ni**les crinkling in the cold. Silver scars dotted her torso. She touched one in wonder. It looked as if it were already months old.

Something insubstantial brushed into the room. The tiny hairs on the back of her arms rose. She yanked the covers up to her neck as she sat.

Nicholas’s transparent, shimmery form appeared, and he knelt in front of her. She received an impression of black military-short hair, hawkish features and the glitter of his intelligent eyes.

Relaxing, she anchored the blanket more securely around her torso. “Nicholas,” she said. “It’s good to see you. How is your father?”

He has not yet passed, Nicholas said. Perhaps there is still something that you can do for him.

Exhaustion pulled at her bones. Healing herself from so many gunshot wounds yesterday had sorely strained her body’s already taxed resources, but she tried not to let her weariness show on her face.

Just like any other family member of patients she had treated, Nicholas didn’t need to see her own struggle. She had survived more than one brutal shift in the ER. She would survive this too. “I’ll have to find some clothes,” she said. “I need to eat something too. Do you think he will be all right for that long?”

He seems to be resting comfortably enough at the moment, the ghost said. He regarded her for a moment. It cost you a great deal to come here so quickly. Thank you.

She had the impulse to deflect what he said, but the gravity in his indistinct gaze wouldn’t let her. Instead, she gave him a small smile. You’re very welcome.

He rose to his feet and turned away. She had seen him do that before when he prepared to leave. It was as if the ghost needed to go through the same kind of gesture that he would have done if he had been alive.

Impulsively, she said, “Nicholas.”

He paused to look over his shoulder at her.

No doubt this was not the time to talk about things. But she was afraid that there would never be a time to talk about things, unless she just made the talk happen.

She asked, “If you were offered a chance at resurrection, would you want to take it?”

That got his attention. He turned and kneeled in front of her, and his gaze turned piercing. There is no chance at resurrection, he said gently. My body has been cremated.

She shook her head. “I didn’t mean resurrection with your original body, and I’m not promising that I can make it happen.”

Nicholas lifted a wide shoulder in a shrug. What are you talking about?

While she knew she needed to move soon, right at the moment, sitting up straight seemed like too much effort. She leaned back against the nearby wall. It felt frigid against her bare shoulders.

At any other time, she would have taken a great deal of time to think about how to tactfully approach a difficult, delicate subject with a patient.

Now she said baldly, “Yesterday morning when I examined those injured drones, the only thing wrong with them was that their spirit was gone. Their bodies were strong and healthy. If they had been really alive, they would have recovered from their injuries just fine. I see that as a damn waste, don’t you?”

He was smart. He was really smart, and he was familiar with the Deceiver’s attributes and habits. She couldn’t see the details of his face very well, but when he rose to pace the length of the small cabin, she could see that she didn’t have to spell everything out for him.

Energy poured off of him. He said, his tone rapid and bitter, The Dark One has the ability to take over human bodies, but he isn’t human. I am.

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not human either.”

Listen to her, sounding all confident and accepting of who she was. She almost convinced herself.

He whirled to go down on one knee in front of her. Tension vibrated off of him in waves that were so tangible it felt nearly physical. She leaned forward, searching for any hint of what he was feeling in the blurred lines of his face.