Kindled (Page 13)

Devon strolled out of the gym, leaving behind the kids and the game. The boy’s gym teacher opened his mouth to protest, but one fierce look from Devon caused him to snap it quickly shut. He hurried into the locker room, not bothering to grab his clothes as he broke into a swift trot, running past the lockers, blurring as a sense of urgency drove him faster. He could not shake the tumultuous emotions that had radiated from Cassie, emotions he had never felt from anyone before.

Bursting free of the boys locker room, he quickly searched the abandoned hallway before turning and darting into the girls locker room. He had a feeling that he was already too late. He skidded around a corner, halting as he came across Melissa. Her dark head was bowed, her hand tightly clenched Cassie’s shirt before her. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even and slow.

Then, she shook back her hair and her eyes lifted to his. “She’s gone.”

“Where?” he demanded sharply, fear gripping hold of him. “Where?”

Melissa shook her head, hopelessness radiated from her as she held the shirt out. “I don’t know, I can’t see it. I can’t see it! What good are premonitions if they do nothing for me when I need them!?” Frustration filled her voice as she glanced down at the clothing in her hands.

Devon turned away from her, ignoring the shocked looks of the girls filtering into the room as he bolted past them and slammed out the back door. An alarm ran loudly but he ignored it. Scanning the snow covered fields; he searched for any sign of her. “Not here, she’s not here anymore.”

Chris pulled up beside him, his breath hung heavily in the crisp air. “I know,” Devon growled. “I’ll find her.”

Devon took off across the field, not feeling the cold against his skin. There was only one thing he cared about at the moment, only one thing he could feel, and that was Cassie. Tuning out the rest of the world, he focused his attention on her. Scanning through all of the minds around him, he searched rapidly for the only one that mattered to him. The few drops of blood he had savored from her when he had closed the life threatening wounds in her neck, and the fact that she was not far from him, allowed him to latch onto her mind quickly. Though he could not pinpoint her location, he hoped to be able to track her. He could feel her out there, running, fleeing, trying to escape. Trying to do the impossible and outrun herself. Panic pushed her further, faster; harder.

Reaching the woods, Devon allowed his power and abilities to surge forth. Blurring with speed, he tracked her through the forest. Though there were still a few hours of daylight left, he knew that he had to find her soon. It would get dark early, and with the cloud cover there was a chance that Isla and Julian would wander out if they sensed her alone. She could not be by herself right now, not in her state of mind. He didn’t know what she would do, and it scared the hell out of him.

Bursting free of the woods, he barely took in the cemetery as he dodged easily through the headstones. He was getting closer; he could feel her, sense her amongst the cold stones. And he knew exactly where she was. Veering sharply to the left, he darted over the ground, not feeling any exertion from his run.

Coming over top of a hill, he spotted her amongst the rows of granite. She was kneeling before the grave, oblivious to the snow coated ground against her bare skin. A small moan of despair escaped him as her anguish washed over him, poured through him, suffused him within her pain. He slowed, not wanting to rush up on her, knowing that he had to approach her slowly. Walking silently up behind her, he simply stood back, waiting for her to need him, or to tell him to go. Which he would not do. He was not going to leave her out here in the cold, and he didn’t think he could handle being pushed away again.

She kept her head bowed; her golden hair fell forward to shield her beautiful face. One of her hands was clenched upon her thigh, the other rested against the name on the grave as she leaned slightly forward. Her sunglasses rested beside the grave, tossed precariously aside. A subtle stiffening of her shoulders told him that she was well aware of his presence, but she did not tell him to leave, and he did not feel anger coming from her. He glanced briefly at the stone as she lovingly stroked her grandmother’s name, Lillian Rose Callahan.

“Someone left her flowers,” Cassie whispered, her voice choked and broken.

He glanced at the roses and lily’s that rested against the stone, some of them had gone past, but most were new. He had left a bouquet just yesterday. “Yes,” he said softly.

A shudder raced through her, shaking her slender frame. Though she had to be freezing, he knew her shiver had nothing to do with the cold. Her hand slid away from the stone, falling limply to her thigh. “I haven’t been here.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent, frightened that she would turn him away again if he did speak. She turned toward him, her violet blue eyes bright with unshed tears, her skin pale. Her full lower lip trembled slightly, making her appear far younger and achingly vulnerable. His hands twitched to hold her, to comfort her. It had been so long and he needed her so badly, but she had to come to him. She had to want him again.

“It’s my fault,” she whispered. “It’s my fault that she’s dead.”

A shattering radiated from her. A soul rendering devastation that ripped through her, pulsing out in waves that pierced deep into his soul. Her anguish was consuming, heart wrenching, overwhelming in its force. It staggered him. She bent her head, and for the first time since her grandmother had been killed, she began to cry.

Heavy, fierce sobs shook through her. Her arms crossed over her chest as she rocked back and forth, seeking to comfort herself in some way. Devon wanted to stay away, wanted to give her the time she needed to grieve. However, he could not stand to see her in so much pain and not do anything about it.

In two long strides, he was at her side, kneeling in the snow beside her. Though he was frightened that she would turn him away again, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her. She came to him, sobbing loudly, hardly able to breathe as her small hands curled into his shirt. Wrapping his hand around her head he held her tight to him.

Rocking her slowly, he simply clung to her as she cried, kissing her head gently, burying his nose in the wonderful scent of her hair. Holding her again, he was able to feel the full extent of her weight loss. Her spine was hard beneath his hand, her shoulders sharp against his chest.

He closed his eyes against the pain filling him as he gathered her closer. He wanted to cry from the intensity of her grief, and the force of the relief that filled him at being able to hold her again. Pulling her into his lap, he bent over her, trying to give her comfort and warmth as she trembled and shook against him. Her tears seeped into his shirt, soaking the front of it. Despite his relief at holding her again worry for her safety, and health, began to fill him. She had not been taking care of herself and the force of her sobs was draining her already weakened body.