Page 51 of Illusory

Tessa and Caleb immediately stopped what they weredoing and turned to look at me, gaping for what felt like an eternity. It was nice that my face had that effect on people.

“What the hell happened to you?” shrieked Tessa, her eyes running rampant over me as she inspected my battered face and torn, blood-spattered clothing. “Who did this?”

I opened my mouth to answer her, but nothing came out. I wasn’t sure where to start, and frankly, I felt a little embarrassed by the whole thing now that I was standing in the safety of my house again. I’d brought it on myself, and I knew that perfectly well, but it was still going to suck hearing it all over again from her.

“Yeah, she’s back. She’s right here,” said Caleb to whoever he had been talking to and then promptly ended the call without waiting for their response. “Damn, Blackburn. You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t bother telling him that I felt even worse than I looked. Instead, I tossed my keys on the console and tried to shuck my coat off. Tried being the operative word. My achy bones and bruised muscles fought me like their salvation depended on it. Like refusing me was their only chance at survival.

I gave up three seconds later and frowned.

“Here. Let me get that.” Caleb shuffled forward and grabbed the top of my coat before carefully peeling the shredded fabric off my shoulders and then dragging it down my arms before stepping back with it. The coat nearly came apart in his hands as he held it against his abdomen and stared down at me with pity in his eyes. “Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he gave his head a small shake.

My gaze followed his and I grimaced as I took myself in. The reddish-brown stains soaking through my white shirt. The garish bruises on my arms. My torn jeans, wet with blood and slobber and lord only knew what else. I looked as thoughI’d been run over by a train and somehow managed to walk away from it.

I needed to heal.

And to shower.

And to sleep for a hundred years.

“Where’s Gabriel?” I asked, my voice fraught with anguish. Gabriel could heal me. Gabriel could make all the hurt and trauma go away before it had a chance to settle in and scar me for life.

“Where do you think he is?” answered Tessa, her words poignant and purposeful like I should already know the answer to that. “He’s out looking for you. Everyone is.”

I crooked a swollen eyebrow at her as my heart rate quickened. “Everyone?”

“Well, everyone that isn’t currently in the throes of bloodlust,” she clarified, letting me know Trace was not part of the search party, and thank God for that. He didn’t need another reason to think badly of me. “Ben’s been out there looking for you since the second you stopped answering his texts, and Jackie, Gabriel, and Dominic took off as soon as the sun set. We were just about to try a locator spell on you when you walked through the door.”

My mind tripped on his name and stayed there. “You called Dominic?”

“Of course I called him.”

Sadness crept into my chest and then twisted its way up my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow.

After my last conversation with him, it had been made perfectly clear to me that Dominic didn’t feel the same way about me anymore. He was trying to keep his distance, and I wanted to respect that, no matter how much it made me feel like I couldn’t breathe the way I used to. Tessa dragging him into my drama was the last thing he probably wanted.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I said, unable to hide the note of sadness in my tone.

“Like hell.” She crossed her arms. “He was the first phone call I made, and with good reason. No one had any idea what happened to you. If anybody knew, or could at least find out, it’s Dominic.”

Well, I couldn’t really argue that point. Mostly because I didn’t have the energy to do it or the words to explain how painful it was to even mention his name anymore. Instead, I started down the hallway, needing something cold and sweet to wash away the taste of blood from my mouth. Tessa and Caleb exchanged a quick glance and then followed behind as I limped my way to the kitchen.

89 years later, I reached the fridge and pulled out a container of orange juice, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting out from my arm and shoulder from the simple task. Sucking in a deep breath, I contemplated staggering over to the cabinet to fetch myself a glass for the juice and then quickly decided it wasn’t worth the extra effort. The container would do just fine.

Twisting off the cap, I gingerly brought it up to my lips and then tipped my head back.

Ew! What in the name of expired-tasting-shit was this?

The gnarly mixture of blood and orange juice defiled my mouth, nearly causing me to spit my mouthful out across the room. And I probably would have done it too had my cakehole not been swollen to twice its size. Scanning the container to make sure it wasn’t actually expired, I forced myself to swallow my mouthful. Well, most of it anyway. The rest just dribbled down my chin like a teething infant.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” asked Tessa when I finally stopped gagging on the aftertaste of the bloody cocktail still assaulting my mouth. “Where were you?”

I met her worried eyes and faltered. As much as it shamed me to admit what had happened tonight, I knew I owed my sister an explanation. “I went to Nikki’s house.”

“What?”Tessa gawped at me like it was the absolute last thing she ever expected me to say. I guess that made two of us. “As in the antichrist’s personal incubator?”

“Is that what we’re calling her now?” I snorted and then winced from the pain.

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