She hadn’t even heard the gunshot over her screams, and Truman moved swiftly toward them. She grunted in pain and anguish as she watched him. Mason toppled over to the side, lurching as he went, and blood spilled around his head as he hit the ground. When Truman kneeled in front of her, he looked at the knife in her stomach and then quickly up to her eyes. She could feel blood rising up in her throat, and it spilled out of her mouth. Truman reached for the handle but pulled back as he grimaced, and a look of fear washed over his face. When his hand moved back to the handle, it was nothing but a flurry of movement from her periphery that she caught before Truman was thrown to the ground as Mason tackled him.
They fought in a flurry of blood, and she struggled to keep up with it. Blood was still dripping from her mouth, and the knife was still fully embedded in her gut. She was gasping and grunting, and as Mason landed a punch that sent Truman’s body skidding away from her, Ember panicked and yanked hard on her right hand. She hit the blunted end of the spike and pulled, forced, groaned as her skin tore and bones broke to free her palm from the widened end of the stake. It was agony, but she didn’t let up until her hand was freed from the stake.
Truman pounced back toward Mason, and Mason landed another blow to his chest. As Truman threw a swift elbow into the monster’s jaw, Mason stumbled back. With Ember’s free right hand, she reached for the knife handle, and when she wrenched it from her body, it was with a choking grunt that stilled Truman as he met her eyes, and she vomited blood. He lunged toward her with his panic showing in his eyes, and as he did, Mason landed a blow to Truman’s back, sending him to his knees right in front of her. Mason closed in behind him before he could react, and as Ember tried to shriek as she gurgled and choked on the blood in her mouth, Truman’s face fell, and his eyes held hers. When Mason bit in hard to the side of his neck, he gasped, and his eyes bulged in surprise.
Ember fell quiet, and she watched. Her body was in more pain than she ever imagined possible, and Truman’s face was defeated as he held her eyes. Mason was grinning even as his teeth remained deep in Truman’s neck on either side of his carotid. Truman’s eyes fluttered as he watched her, and a tear fell to his cheek. And as she watched, the monster tore … and Ember finally saw him.
The scene was backward. It was the basement, and Truman was behind the monster with his teeth buried in his neck. She watched as he tore the artery from the man’s neck and spat it across the room. That and every last moment of their life together came flooding back to her as she watched this monster tear the life from Truman’s neck.
His hand went instantly to the gaping wound as the shock of what had just happened sank in. Ember was pulling on her last remaining speared hand, ignoring the pain that was shooting through her entire body. She was screaming through it. She lifted, hitting the blunted end of the stake and going no further. And as she sobbed in desperation, she looked to Truman’s eyes once more.
Mason stood to his feet with a look of absolute vengeance on his face and began to move to Ember. He grabbed the knife on the ground nearby, and Ember screamed. When Truman exploded toward Mason and tackled him, she just watched, stunned. And when Truman tore the man’s head clean from his shoulders before he could even react, she sobbed. Truman was gushing blood, and as he looked to her eyes as Mason’s body collapsed between them, he fell to his knees clutching the side of his throat. But the blood was running down his neck, and his skin was paling by the second.
He smiled at her as his eyes fluttered and his body collapsed to the ground. His eyes bulged and then narrowed and fluttered again as they struggled to stay alert, and she sobbed, screamed, and stomped her feet in furious desperation. He was trying to pull himself up to his knees, and she could only watch in horror as he died in front of her.
“Are you going to kill me?” The words were old, from a cold, dark basement, and all she could do was watch their first meeting play out in her mind while the Truman of this time and place struggled to live in front of her.
“Not even I could do such a thing. Tell me your name.”
“Ember Greeley. What’s your name?”
“I’m Truman Solomon. It’s good to meet you, Ember. You’re safe now.”
And as the sweetest memory she owned ended, she pulled her hand up as hard as she could as the pain hit her hand. The blunted end of the spike was wide and stopped her hand the moment she hit it, but she forced harder, grunting past the pain and tearing her flesh as she forced the hole to open up even wider to free her remaining hand. When it finally sprang free from the stake, she fell from the chair and crawled over Mason’s lifeless body to Truman.
Her hands were dripping with blood, and she clamped down hard on the side of Truman’s neck. He was only barely conscious, and when he felt her hand, his eyes fluttered open, and his lips pulled up in a weak smile. She held her wrist up to his mouth, and he bit. She was already weak, but she wasn’t going to lose him now that she’d finally found him, and as he pulled her blood from her, she spoke. “I asked you if you were going to kill me. ‘Not even I could do such a thing.’ It’s what you said to me. The very first words you ever spoke to me. I remember you. I remember all of you.” Her voice wavered through her tears, and a tear ran down his cheek.
Angus and Dr. Bremmer arrived moments later, stumbling into the room in shock, and as Dr. Bremmer saw her looking helplessly to him, he started toward her. They were both covered in blood as well, and Angus had a gaping wound in his side. He collapsed by the door and watched as Dr. Bremmer kneeled beside Truman. He pulled her hand away from his neck, surveying the damage, and replacing her hand with his, he spoke. “Truman sent us to make sure the building was clear while he searched for you. It wasn’t. Angus lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be okay. Jesus, Ember.”
“Is Truman going to be okay?”
Ember could already feel her stomach tingling as her body healed, and though weak, she knew she was going to be okay, but Truman… Dr. Bremmer looked to her eyes but didn’t answer the question. “We have to get him back to my clinic. I don’t think he’s going to make it if we don’t move him. He’s trying to heal, but he doesn’t have enough blood, and there’s only so much you can give him. You’ve already lost too much blood yourself, and you’re pale as a ghost.
“Please tell me he’s going to be okay?”
He didn’t respond.
Chapter 25
He watched her in the car. His head was resting on her lap, and she was clamping down tight on his neck. Her wrist was still in front of his mouth, but he was refusing it. Her eyes were pleading with him, but she looked close to death herself. Truman was struggling to keep his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss a moment of her. She remembered him. Finally.
But try as he might, his mind was groggy and his vision was blurry and his body was shutting down, and with a final look to her beautiful pale face, he drifted away to the sound of her voice. “Truman. Truman! No please. You have to stay awake. Please, please, please.” But he couldn’t. Not even for her.
The first time he woke, he was in the clinic, and he could feel a tube down his throat. His neck hurt, but when he tried to move his hand, it fell limply back to the bed. He looked to see her in the clinic bed next to him, and as he panicked, he fell off the cliff to unconsciousness again.
When he woke next, the tube was still in his throat, and his neck still hurt, but when he moved his hand, he actually made it to his neck. There was a bandage, but he could tell by the feel of his skin that he was healing. He was weak, but he was alive. As he remembered the sight of Ember in her bed, his gaze shot to the bed next to him only to see it empty. He was not, however, alone. She was curled up in a chair by the wall, sleeping. She was no longer pale, and though there were bandages on her hands, they weren’t large, and he could smell none of her blood. He was content, and in his contentment, he drifted off again.