Page 27 of Whispers of Helena
Hergaze holds mine, and for a moment, she feels so real, so close, I could swear I feel the warmth of her breath.
“I’m here,” she says in a low voice. “Open your eyes, Silas.”
And then she’s gone. Her image is swept upward, vanishing into the heavens like a wisp of smoke. Only her voice lingers in the stillness, haunting and tender.
“I’m here.”
“Silas?I’m here. Open your eyes.”
Her soft voice pulls me from the vision. I startle awake, my eyes snapping open as I drag in a shuddering breath. The room feels suffocating, every surface slick with the sweat of fever.
“There you are.” Helena’s amber eyes meet mine, filled with a tenderness I don’t deserve.
“I was—I guess I was dreaming,” I rasp, my throat dry and raw.
“Probably from the fever. You’re burning up.” Her voice is steady but gentle as she presses a cool glass of water and a pill into my hand. “Take this. We need to stop any infection before it sets in.”
As I carefully lean forward, the wound on my side protests the movement, but she’s there, slipping pillows behind me. I take the pill, the water soothing my dry throat.
“How long have you been here?”
“Most of the night,” she says softly, her gaze unwavering. “I got Kiran up and out with Eli. He doesn’t know. Just told him you’re unwell.”
“Good.” My head sinks against the headboard, her presence oddly grounding.
Her voice comes quieter this time, almost hesitant. “Do you dream of Caroline often?”
“No,” I answer, my tone sharp.
She nods. “Are you hungry?”
I shake my head. “Just tired.”
Helena doesn’t push. Instead, she dips a cloth into a bowl ofice water. When she brings the cold towel to my temple, the relief is instant, the heat in my mind easing. I exhale, eyes drifting closed as her careful touch works like a balm.
“You’re like a dove,” I murmur, the fever loosening my tongue, pulling words from some unguarded place.
She pauses, her lips curving into a wisp of a smile. “How so?”
“A white dove,” I whisper. “Pure. Peaceful. A gift sent to a place like this.”
The faintest blush touches her cheeks as she shakes her head. “I’m hardly pure, Mr. Hayes.”
“Is that so, Ms. Toth?” My voice holds a sliver of mischief, even through the haze of fever.
“You need to rest,” she insists, her tone gentle but firm as she refreshes the cloth.
I catch her arm as she brings the towel back to my forehead, my grip light but resolute. Her breath hitches, and her gaze locks with mine. For a moment, the room falls utterly silent.
“You’re too good for this godforsaken place,” I say.
Her eyes search mine, her resolve unshaken. “Maybe I’m the goodness this place needs.”
I huff a bitter laugh. “I’m too far gone to save, Helena.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t try, Mr. Hayes.” Her voice is confident, and there’s a fire in her that I can’t look away from.
She gently pulls her arm from my grasp, her fingers cool against my burning skin as she dips the towel again, wringing it out. Folding it, she places it on my forehead, her touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
