Fifth a Fury (Goddess Isles, #5) Read online

  “If Sully doesn’t wake up from death, I am already well acquainted with it.” I narrowed my gaze at him. “I’ll be fine. Do it.”

  He shrugged and marched toward Drake. Glancing at the closed doors leading to the rest of the house, he pressed the muzzle of the silencer against Drake’s temple.

  Drake keened, sounding exactly like something stuck in a slaughter chute.

  Locking gazes with me, the mercenary pulled the trigger.

  The soft pop made me jolt.

  The sudden silence of a wretched moan.

  The coldness of a life being ended.

  He was right.

  Watching a merciless murder did change me.

  It hardened my heart.

  It dried up my tears.

  It made me older, wiser, and far more accepting of my new given power.

  I’d just killed a man.

  I might not have blood on my hands, but I did on my voice. I’d commanded, and it had happened.

  I swallowed hard.

  Striding forward, I avoided the gruesome puddles of human waste and looked into Drake’s blank stare.

  No breath. No blink. Nothing.

  I waited for regret. I froze for self-hatred and panic over what I’d done.

  But I only felt relief.

  I’d killed him to protect the man I loved, but I’d also killed out of mercy.

  It’s done.

  Perhaps now that one brother had been freed from purgatory, the other one could be too.

  A trap that worked both ways...freeing both at the same time.

  Sully...

  Urgency filled me and I ran to the door. “We need to get back to the hospital. Now.”

  * * * * *

  Sully was still trapped.

  Still too far for me to reach him.

  If anything, he seemed further away—his skin icy, his breath slower, his heartbeat not nearly as strong.

  Sully...please.

  Wake up.

  I sat by his bedside.

  I’d sat beside him since I’d killed Drake and returned to the hospital.

  Another night and I hadn’t slept.

  A new dawn and still Sully didn’t wake.

  I’d stayed vigil beside him, but I hadn’t reached out to touch his hand.

  Something held me back.

  Anger perhaps?

  Confusion?

  Fear?

  I was angry because he’d proven to be even more coldblooded than I thought.

  I was confused that I could ignore such things because I loved him.

  And I was afraid he would die, regardless of me taking his brother’s life on his behalf.

  And I’m lonely.

  So, so lonely.

  I missed him.

  I was lost without him.

  I was tired of having to be strong, and knew the chance of any peaceful rest was far, far away.

  I couldn’t rest until he was awake.

  I couldn’t trust that he would still be here while I slept, almost as if we were tethered by a string that kept him from falling deeper into a soundless abyss.

  I promised I would do whatever it took to keep him safe and alive, even if it meant sitting in a hospital chair in a snowy city for the rest of my life.

  Closing my eyes, I flinched as images of him suffering a heart attack found me again.

  His grunt of agony.

  The thud when he fell.

  His final gasp.

  No!

  I tore them open, focusing on his slack, handsome face.

  I needed a distraction.

  Or a sedative.

  The phone ringing sliced through the heavy dawn silence.

  I snatched the phone gratefully. “Dr Campbell?”

  “Yes, hi. How’re you holding up, Eleanor?”

  I cleared my throat, keeping myself cool and brave. “I’m fine. Sully is still asleep. The doctor popped in an hour ago to assure me it’s perfectly natural for a body to shut down after such an event and told me I just need to be patient.” I balled my hand in my lap. “The thing is...he’s fading. Don’t ask me how I know...I just do. I feel it. He’s not got anything to fight for here.”

  “He’s got you.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  “You’re more than enough.”

  “He needs to go home.”

  He paused before saying, “It so happens that I agree with you.”

  I sat taller. “You do? Is it possible?”

  “Sinclair’s bank balance is going to take a serious hit with the exorbitant cost of such medical repatriation, but yes...it’s possible. I’ve arranged a special charter and purchased the time of his current doctors to make the journey with him.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight. If he remains stable for another twelve hours, they’re satisfied to take the risk transporting him.”

  My heart pounded.

  Home.

  Islands and sunshine and Skittles.

  “It will help. I know it will.”

  “It might.” His voice turned sceptical but honest. “You have to prepare yourself, though, Eleanor. He might not survive the journey. He might go into cardiac arrest again and not return.”

  “He might do that here.”

  “That’s true. I’ve informed the doctors of the ingredients and side effects of Tritec-87. Hopefully, they’ll be able to adjust his treatment accordingly until he lands on home soil...or sand, as the case may be.”

  I closed my eyes, bowing my head. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This might be a suicide mission.”

  Needing a distraction before my mind raced with all the things that could go wrong, I asked, “How’s Jess? Skittles? Cal?”

  Dr Campbell sighed. “Cal is operational, Skittles is healing, and Jess...she’s holding on. I hope for both our sakes that Sinclair handles his upcoming journey and Jess wakes soon. I’ll call you again when it’s time to leave. For now, rest and get ready for the longest trip of your life.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  IT WAS LIKE BEING trapped inside a monochrome kaleidoscope.

  A tumbling, refracting kaleidoscope that was all blacks, greys, and shadows with no escape.

  But instead of the chaos being visual, it was auditory with the occasional scent and the quick comings and goings of heat.

  The longer I remained trapped, the more I strained to understand my new world.

  For the first part of my prison sentence, I’d felt nothing.

  I was just an inconsequential speck floating around, adrift and unwanted. A speck of no substance or history. No knowledge of who I was—just a vessel of lost memories.

  I’d struggled to stay alive as that speck.

  I had no reserves to stay clinging to the strange kaleidoscope my world had become. No power to endure the flickering in and out of lucidity.

  But...

  As time ticked onward, I grew stronger.

  My speck grew to a seed and the seed into a vine. A vine that somehow latched onto the glowing string that occasionally lit up my dark world.

  Her.

  Whenever she touched me, she managed to tug me back a little more.

  I had no comprehension of time and space, but as long as she touched me, I could stay with her instead of fading away.

  Even though I didn’t know her name or recall her face, I knew she was special. I knew she was the reason I had to clutch to whatever scraps of aliveness I could.

  And she had to keep holding on to me.

  Otherwise, I would lose everything.

  I’d...go.

  To where, I didn’t know.

  But it was a destination with a one-way ticket, and I wasn’t finished yet.

  I needed to tell her something. Words I couldn’t remember, and apologies I didn’t know how to say.

  But then, something changed.

  The routine of my shadowy, silent world switched.

  She stopped touching me.

  The
stability of whatever form I hid within became inherently unstable.

  I sloshed up the sides of whatever container I was trapped in. I couldn’t brace myself against the motion that rocked me from side to side. I couldn’t tense against the sudden swoop of flight.

  All I could do was remain gagged and blindfolded, too weak to move, too broken to cry out.

  * * * * *

  The string was back, warm and comforting around me.

  I sighed and settled, the calamity in my blackened mind hushed.

  I’d vanished for a while.

  My consciousness clocking out as if I’d slept, even within this dark dimension.

  But thanks to her, I was awake.

  And I had more pieces to fit into the puzzle I couldn’t figure out.

  I’m alive.

  But I was also...not.

  I’m a monster.

  But I was also...human.

  And if I was human, that meant I had legs and arms, fingers and toes. I should be able to move such things, to alert the girl keeping me bound that I could feel her. I might not be able to hear or see but I felt her.

  She was the only reason the darkness hadn’t claimed me. It couldn’t because she’d claimed me. She was the only glow of hope in my otherwise pitch-black limbo.

  But then, she let go again.

  The string unravelled.

  And I fell.

  * * * * *

  I blinked within my kaleidoscope world.

  I blinked.

  I had form again. Or at least...the knowledge of form.

  I couldn’t see my body or signal responses of ownership, but phantom parts obeyed me. I blinked past the alternating shadows and contorting colours of chaos. I searched the blackness for signs of the glowing, humming string.

  Nothing.

  All progress I’d made reverted.

  I forgot...

  I forgot what blinking was.

  I felt ice lap around the existence I fought for.

  I couldn’t fight it, couldn’t stop it.

  No.

  I want to stay.

  I want her to touch me.

  Please, touch me!

  But no string, no bind, no hope.

  I slipped under again.

  * * * * *

  I gasped this time.

  Aware that I once had lungs and those lungs still functioned, even if I couldn’t feel them.

  I blinked in the blackness, and thankfulness swept through me.

  The string.

  It was back.

  She was back.

  I floated or flew, or maybe I crawled. Whatever method of movement I had, I made my way to her and wrapped a non-existent hand through the tether she offered.

  I held on with strength I hadn’t had in a while.

  I needed her to feel my answer.

  She had to know I couldn’t exist in this darkness without her.

  She couldn’t let go again.

  She was the only thing I had left.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I’D LEARNED SOMETHING ABOUT myself in the thirty-one-hour journey from Geneva back to Goddess Isles.

  More than one thing, actually.

  One, I could discuss the disposal of Drake’s body as if he was a discarded banana peel. Agreeing with the mercenary to dismember and bury his pieces in undisclosed locations before he vowed his allegiance to me and tried to travel with me back to Goddess Isles.

  I’d refused his escort, even though he’d pledged to Sully that he’d protect me. I already had far too much company: our flying convoy with doctors, machines, and potential death stalking our every move was enough. And besides, with Drake gone, Sully’s greatest enemy couldn’t hurt us anymore.

  Two, I could fake bravery and somehow look into the eyes of the three doctors and smile when they smiled and make sense of the regular updates of his condition as he worsened and improved. I learned how to ignore exhaustion and somehow shut down my feelings so they didn’t get in the way of caring for Sully while in the sky.

  Three, every time I believed I’d reached my capacity for tragedy, I found a deeper well of strength in which to tap. A well that was bound to dry up eventually, but thankfully had kept me breathing while Sully did his best to crash.

  Three times he’d almost died again.

  Three times his pulse faded, and three times the doctors prepared the defib and drugs to kick-start him.

  And each time, I’d swallowed my tears until my throat was raw and clung fiercely to his hand. I’d pressed my forehead to his. I’d murmured things. Nonsense things. I’d kneeled on the aircraft floor and bowed over his stretcher, plastering myself to his unresponsive body.

  The doctors had withdrawn after doing what medical attempts they could provide. They patted my shoulder in consolation as if this time was the time.

  The moment when Sully gave up.

  But...with my hand in his and my breath skating over his cheek, his pulse hiccupped and restarted with a stronger beat. I’d drift into delirious sleep while draped over him, rocked by the plane and high above the clouds, and as long as we stayed linked, he breathed.

  Dr Campbell had been right.

  That journey was the longest damn journey of my life.

  I never wanted to repeat the panic of hearing the heart monitor growing quieter, slower, silent. I never wanted to see sympathy in anyone’s eyes again. I never wanted to fall in love again if Sully left me.

  This was pure agony.

  An agony that had whittled me into nothing and left me scarred and hollow.

  I’d reached a plateau as we landed in Jakarta, and Sully’s obscene wealth and contacts once again purchased him the swiftest, safest transport possible.

  He was transferred outside the same hangar where I’d been given his credit card and told I could never return. I grimaced at the irony that I had returned, and somehow, I’d inherited Sully’s kingdom just by being by his side when he died.

  I was too tired to walk between the private plane and helicopter.

  Giving up my battle to seem invincible, I kept my hand on Sully’s arm as a crutch. I used his wheeling stretcher as a walking frame and did my best to keep my eyes open as he was placed into the helicopter and a friendly doctor helped me inside.

  Sully’s pulse once again slipped down a slippery slope.

  I didn’t know if it was ego or truth, but he seemed to fade each time I stopped touching him.

  The doctor with auburn hair who’d questioned me when we’d first arrived at the Geneva hospital sat beside me as the helicopter whirred into rotor-spinning violence.

  “Touch him.” She took my wrist and placed my palm on his shoulder. Her gaze remained locked on the monitor, watching intently as I touched Sully and winced against his chill.

  It took a few breaths, but sure enough, as I kneaded his rigid shoulder, his heartbeat steadied out and found a healthier rhythm. A sudden spike of his pulse, the sudden choice not to die.

  The doctor pulled away as the helicopter shot into the sky. She eyed me warily, looking between my link with Sully and my exhaustion aging me by decades. Placing a headset over my ears so she could speak to me, she said quietly, “A few years ago, I was on a team that wanted to prove souls truly existed. We requested the help of terminally-ill patients and asked if they would share their moment of death with us.”

  I blinked, her words turning to scrambled eggs in my fatigue-fuddled brain. I shook my head and blinked, then nodded for her to carry on, wanting to understand her point.

  “They were placed on a weighing scale and hooked up to monitors. At the precise moment of their passing, all data was processed. We recorded the shift from an alive individual into a cadaver.” She pinned me with a stare. “Know what we found?”

  I shrugged weakly. “That there is no such thing as a soul?”

  She smiled gently. “The opposite.”

  I sat straighter. “You mean...you have scientific proof that something other than blood and bone make up a living thin
g?”

  “It’s still early days, but yes. We have proven that the electrical impulses of the body are caused by two things. The brain and nervous system...and something we can’t explain. Something that weighs the smallest amount but registered on our scales as missing at the exact moment of death. An indisputable finding that something left the body when it was no longer viable.”

  I dug my fingernails into Sully’s shoulder without thinking. I transmitted my shock because I wanted to tell him that I’d been wrong when I said it was biology as we’d strolled around Lebah, discussing our unfortunate desires.

  I’d made him accept our connection by delivering it in terms he was comfortable with: biology between compatible mates. The instinct of herds and harems that paired up individuals to ensure survival and procreation.

  But if what this doctor said was true, then I’d lied.

  It wasn’t biology at all.

  It was kismet all along and his soul—the very thing doing its best to jump ship—was intangibly linked to mine and always would be.

  The doctor smiled at where I touched Sully, adding, “I’m a woman of facts and medicine. I’m a sceptic until undeniable evidence is provided, and what I’m witnessing between you two just solidifies the study of souls. Your touch works better than any adrenaline or drug we could give him to keep his system stabilised. Whatever bond you guys share is worthy of further investigation because I see it in action before my eyes.”

  Shifting on the seat, looking out the window to a new dawn blanketing Indonesia in creams, golds, and crimsons, she said, “He’ll have other things to fight for the moment he senses he’s home, but my suggestion for the duration of his coma...don’t let go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ELEANOR.

  That was her name.

  It exploded through the darkness. A neon word full of narrative of our forgotten beginning...and our unknown end. A flash of togetherness and the undeniable acceptance that I loved her more than anything.

  I looked for the soft glow of the string I’d grown accustomed to—the only light in my darkness.

  It was there, pulsing with a golden shimmer, warm and comforting when I reached out to grasp it. I shuddered as a familiar sizzle of electricity infected my fingers.

  This wasn’t just a string.

  It was a rope.

  A rope made of affection, one we both held on to, and hopefully a path back to her if I could figure out how the hell to wake up.