Edge of Twilight (Wings in the Night #10)

Edge of Twilight (Wings in the Night #10) Page 22

She let him hold her for the space of a heartbeat, but then suddenly she ripped herself away, turned and ran through the house. Edge took a single step, but the sprite-like Tamara stepped into his path and placed a soft hand on his chest. "She needs to cry it out, Edge. And she's not going to do it in front of you."

"Why the hell not?"

She smiled softly, as if she knew things he didn't. Myriad things he didn't. ''I'll go to her...for now. Maybe you can stay and figure out just what it is my husband thinks he's on to."

Edge spun around to stare at Eric, who was hunched over a computer screen, hitting the scroll button rapidly. He wasn't idly browsing; he looked like a man in search of something specific.

"What? What is it?"

Eric shook his head. Tam was already gone, on her way up the stairs again. Donovan and Dante withdrew quietly, maybe to give him some space. But Roland came farther into the room, clapping a hand on Edge's shoulder. "Give Eric a moment. He'll tell us as soon as he's figured it out. Meanwhile, my new friend, I suppose congratulations are in order. This is nothing short of a miracle."

Edge shot him a glance. "Might be a bit premature for that, Roland."

"Not if you've won Amber's heart, my boy."

He glanced up at the man, about to say he hadn't even come close, but then decided that it wouldn't be exactly flattering to Amber to tell her family that she'd slept with a man she didn't love. "What the hell can be going on? How can she be that... that big this early?"

Roland shrugged. "Are you certain about the date you... er, that is, you and she... "

Edge nodded. "She was a-" He bit back the words, started over. "It was her first time. There can be no mistake. And it's not something I'm likely to forget."

"Here it is-here. Right here." Eric shot to his feet, reading aloud from the computer screen. "Alicia sent this e-mail while we rested. It's some of Stiles's most recent notes, taken from a disk she found at the Athena house. Listen to this. 'Ambrosia-Seven is ready to be tested, and even though I shouldn't need another treatment for several weeks, what better test subject than myself? In truth, I've been convinced for some time that more frequent treatments might increase my physical strength and psychic powers. I only hesitated putting it to the test due to the limited supply of Ambrosia-Six. Now, with a source in hand and plans to... ' Oh my God."

"What?" Roland asked, alarmed.

Edge only stood still, his face grim, jaw tense.

Eric met his eyes briefly before reading the rest. '"Now, with a source in hand and plans to clone all the future sources I will ever need, there's no longer reason for delay. Tonight I begin the new treatment.'" Eric looked up from the computer screen and met Edge's eyes once more. "This entry is dated the night you and the others rescued Amber from him." He searched Edge's eyes. "Did Stiles do it? Did he inject himself?"

Edge shrugged. "How the hell would I know? What difference does it make, anyway? It has nothing to do with what's going on with Amber and my son."

"It has everything to do with Amber and your... " Eric paused there. "Son? You... already know?"

Edge nodded, turned to pace away, pushing a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I barked at you. I'm a little... "

"On edge?" Roland asked.

Edge grimaced but knew the lame attempt at humor was only an effort to lighten the mood. Sighing, he faced Eric again. "The man was in his bed, in his pajamas, when we kicked the doors in. Anything he had planned to do that evening, he would have already done. So chances are, if he didn't change his mind, he had already injected himself with this... Ambrosia-Seven."

Eric nodded. "Makes perfect sense."

"Not to me."

"I'm afraid it's as lost on me, as well, Eric," Roland said. "Explain, please."

"Stiles is aging at an accelerated pace. The baby also seems to be developing at a faster than normal pace." He shot Edge a look. "You're sure this is your child?"

Edge must have looked murderous, because Eric quickly held up a calming hand. "I mean, are you certain this pregnancy isn't the result of Stiles implanting her with a cloned embryo?''

Edge calmed himself, nodded. "I'm sure. She was pregnant before he took her."

He met the man's eyes. "Don't bother asking how I know, just trust that I do."

"All right." Eric frowned hard, so hard that Edge thought his brain must be processing ideas and thoughts and information as fast as a computer.

"So something about Amber's blood speeds up the aging process?'' Edge asked, eager to be clear on this.

"Yes, apparently, but that wasn't the case before. Her blood... it must be different now than it was before the pregnancy."

"Could the pregnancy be to blame for that?" Roland asked, while Edge's mind reeled.

"Could be. I'd say it's the most likely bet."

Edge shook his head, holding up his hands. "I was burned-badly burned-the other day. Alby cut herself. Figured she could revive me with a sip, you know? But a drop fell on my arm and... "

"And what? What happened?" Eric had come across the room, was leaning close to Edge, listening with every part of him.

"It healed. My skin tingled and burned and... healed. Just like that."

"Amazing," Roland whispered.

"Makes sense, though. Her blood is speeding up physical processes, cell regeneration, healing."

Edge shook his head. "What does this mean? Will my child be born in a week, only to reach old age within a couple of years?" He shot Eric a look, fully expecting the man to say it didn't mean any such thing.

Instead Eric lowered his gaze. "I wish to God I knew."

"Jesus, this can't be happening." Edge tipped his head back, facing the ceiling and the grief raining down on him from Amber, somewhere above. "She can't go through this."

"We'll get to the bottom of it. I just... I need more time." Eric held up a hand. "I know, I know. Time is the one thing we don't have."

Edge licked his lips. "I have to go to her."

"Go," Roland said. "She has to know the situation, and it ought to come from you." He glanced at Eric. "I'm going to call Jamey."

He turned and left the room.

"Jamey?" Edge asked. He stood in the doorway, his back on one side of the frame, his hand braced on the other. He'd closed his mind to Amber's heartache, because it was damn close to crippling.

"No matter how old Jameson gets, nor how many grandchildren he acquires, Edge, he'll always be Jamey to Roland. He practically raised the boy, you know."

"No. I didn't know that." Edge straightened, turned to face the direction he had to go. "How the hell do I tell her this?"

"We don't know anything for sure, Edge. It might be better if you... wait until we do."

"I don't know if it's possible to keep this from her. I don't know." He started out of the room, heading toward the foyer and the stairs to the second floor.

"She'll be in her favorite guest room," Eric called after him. "Fourth door on the left."

Nodding, Edge went up the stairs.

But Amber wasn't behind the fourth door on the left. Edge opened it and stood there, looking inside at the rumpled covers of the bed, the box of tissues on the stand. The room was empty. Without forethought, he let the veil fall away, opened his mind to hers, and felt her. The grief washed over him again, but it was no longer crippling or paralyzing. It was active and angry. Lashing out.

Turning, he moved back up the hall, past the stairs. She drew him to her as surely and swiftly as a super-magnet would draw a shard of steel. He opened the door of the bedroom he'd been in earlier, and took in the scene swiftly, in the space of a heartbeat.

The pretty porcelain table lamp, shattered on the floor. Its power cord had been wrenched from its base. One end was plugged into the outlet, and the other end, with two bare wires emerging like the forked tongue of a venomous viper, was in Amber's grip. She held it a hair's breadth from the quivering old man in the bed. Tears of pain streaked Stiles's scarred face.

"Tell me what's happening to me," she said, her voice dangerous, low, trembling with passion and power. "Tell me, damn you." She jabbed him quickly, briefly, with the wires, and his body jerked and spasmed in the bed.

"Jesus, Alby!"

She straightened, turning to face him, even as Edge crossed the room and jerked the wire out of her hands. "Give me that before you fry yourself." He yanked the cord from the wall to render it harmless, then turned to see Stiles shaking, weeping. A helpless old man. Shaking his head, Edge took Amber's arm. "Where the hell is Tamara? I thought she was watching over you."

"I don't need watching over. I sent her downstairs to find me a cup of tea." She nearly spat out the words. "As if tea could help anything."

"I don't-"

"He knows something. Don't you see that? He knows, and he's going to die without telling us."

"No, he's not. I'm not going to let that happen, Alby." Sighing as he faced her down, Edge noted the lines of tension around her lips, the tight set of her jaw, the way she was holding herself so stiffly she was all but shaking.

Gently he touched her cheek. "This... this isn't you. Hell, woman, this is more my style than yours."

"I can't... just let this happen. I can't let him die, Edge. I can't let our baby die."

The stiffness of her body fled all at once. She collapsed like a flag when the wind goes still. He closed his arms around her, pulled her against him. He held her, and his gaze wandered to the eyes of the old man in the bed. He read them, knew and understood what Stiles wanted, and in that moment, his own need for vengeance melted away. He knew what he had to do. He nodded, the movement barely perceptible. But the old man saw it and acknowledged it with a nod of his own.

So be it, then, Edge thought. So be it.

Carefully, he scooped Amber up, turned and carried her back down the hall to the room Eric had described as her favorite. It was a modern room, painted a soft lilac hue. Its curtains and bedspread were white, patterned with purple pansies, and sheer violet scarfs draped lazily from the top of the curtain rod, and over the dresser and bedside stand.

He tugged the covers back with one hand, then lowered her into the bed. "Listen to me, Alby. You have to stop the hurricane of grief that's raging in your mind long enough to listen to me."

She lifted her eyes to his, and he held them with everything he had. "I am going to take care of Stiles. And I promise you, I'll find out all he knows. Every morsel. I swear it. On the memory of my long dead family of fledglings, I swear it to you."

She sniffled, nodded in jerky motions.

"And Eric will take care of the scientific end of this. He'll put all the information Stiles gives me to use. If there's a way to solve this, we will. We'll do it."

"What if there's not?"

"But what if there is? What if there is a way, and we find it? Alby, you have only one job here. And that's to take care of our son. Take care of yourself, so he has a warm, safe, nurturing place to grow. Banish the stress. Chase it away, because it's toxic. It's poison to him. Understand?"

"I don't... I don't know if I can."

"You have to try. Try, Alby. You wouldn't smoke a pack of cigarettes or drink a quart of whiskey or inject yourself with heroin while you were carrying him inside you. This is just as bad. You've got to let it go."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over onto her beautiful cheeks. "Tell me how."

"Put your trust in me," he said. "I know I'm not what you probably thought of when you pictured the perfect man in your childhood dreams. I'm no one's knight in shining armor, Alby. God knows I'm aware of that. But I'm not going to let you down in this. I'm not going to let our baby down. I've got this. Let me deal with it. Trust that I can, and will, and just focus on doing what you have to do to keep little J.W. safe inside you."

She blinked. "J.W.?"

He nodded. "That's what he goes by," he said, smiling softly, stroking her hair in soothing, slow movements. "But he tells me his mother calls him Jimmy."

"He... he told you his name?"

He nodded. "I thought the initials stood for Jameson Willem, at first, in honor of your father and Will, but it doesn't feel quite right." He closed his eyes, put his palm on Amber's abdomen. "Shh, listen. Touch my mind and speak to your child, Alby."

Amber lowered her trembling hands over his and closed her eyes.

And Edge heard the voice that had become familiar now. I'm all right. Stronger all the time. Why is my mother so sad?

Amber's eyes flew open, fresh tears pooling. "It's really him."

"Yes. It's really him."

She licked her lips, focusing, and then she whispered, "It's James William. That's his name, for my father and Will, but different enough to be his own."

Edge let the slight smile pull at his mouth. "That's it. That feels right."

"And he's okay. For now, right now at this moment, he's all right. Healthy and strong."

"Yes. And that's what you have to focus on. If there's grieving to be done, Alby, then we'll do it when the time comes. Not before, not one damn minute before."

She nodded, harder, firmer, this time.

"Trust me, Alby. I'm going to take care of everything. You. J.W. Everything."

I trust you, Dad.

"I trust you, too," Amber whispered.

She opened her eyes, and looked up into his, and Edge felt a white hot blade slide neatly between his ribs to pierce his heart. He lost his breath for just a moment. God, how could he ever live up to such a promise?

The only person who had ever looked at him with that much trust in her eyes had been his precious Bridget. And he'd let her down. Let Stiles cut her throat. Let her die. He was terrified of having someone so precious-even more precious-depending on him again. God help him, he'd better come through this time.

"Thank you, Edge," Amber whispered. "Thank you." Her eyes fell closed again, much needed sleep stealing over her. Her body relaxed beneath the covers, and her breaths became deep and rhythmic.

"No, Alby," Edge whispered. "Thank you." He slid his hands from beneath hers, heaved a sigh, and turned toward the door, only to see Tamara standing there, a china tea cup balanced on a saucer in her hands, tears dampening her cheeks.

When Amber opened her eyes again, the sun was shining in through the bedroom window, and Alicia was sitting in a chair beside her bed.

Frowning, she blinked her friend into focus. "How did you manage... ?"

"Edge called me last night. Said he didn't want you alone while everyone was at rest. Your father chartered a flight for me, so I could get here by sunrise."

Amber sighed. "How is Willem doing? Did they give him the Ambrosia-Six?"

"As soon as we got back with it." She shrugged. "Sarafina thought he looked better."

"But what did you think?"

Alicia averted her eyes. "It's really too soon to tell."

She didn't think the formula had worked. Amber knew Alicia too well not to read her face. "Even if it did work," Amber said, "it's not a permanent fix. A few months, at most, and then-"

"Stop it. If it worked, that's a good thing. Let's not start borrowing trouble or worrying about what happens next. God, you've got enough to worry about." Her eyes wandered down the bedcovers, to the bulge of Amber's belly.

"Did Eric make any progress last night?"

Alicia averted her eyes. "Edge says I'm to keep you from focusing on anything negative."

"Are you his best friend or mine?"

"Amber... "

"Tell me. I need to know what's going on, 'Leesh."

Alicia's lips thinned, but she answered. "They can't duplicate the formula with your blood. Ambrosia-Seven was apparently a whole lot different than Ambrosia-Six, and maybe not in a good way. Eric says your blood is different now. He thinks maybe after the pregnancy it will change again, but there's no way to be sure."

Amber closed her eyes.

"He managed to run his tests without destroying the sample you brought him, though," Alicia said quickly. "That means we can give the second part of that to Will."

"That one tiny vial. That's all that's left. And there might never be more."

"Then again, there might be. God, Amber, when did you turn into such a pessimist?"

Amber sighed. Her stomach rumbled so loudly it made Alicia smile.

"Hungry?"

"Famished. It seems to be a constant state." She frowned, sitting up in the bed and pushing back the covers. "At least I'm not throwing up anymore."

"No, I'd say you passed that stage already." She nodded at Amber's belly as she said it.

Amber looked down, ran her hands over her middle. "I'm even bigger than I was last night. It's happening so fast, Alicia. God, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm here to tell you what to think. And right now, I want you to think about taking a shower, putting on some clean clothes and doing something with your hair. By the time you finish, I'll have whipped up the biggest breakfast I can think of."

"Good luck finding food in this house."

"Hey, come on, you think I came empty-handed? I stopped at an all-night grocery on the way here from the airport. I like to eat, too, you know."

Amber smiled and clasped her friend's hand. "You're too good to me."

"Well, I'm gonna be an auntie. I have to be worthy." She squeezed Amber's hand, then turned toward the door. She paused there. "Tarn left some of Eric's clothes in the closet for you. And... Edge said to tell you he had them move Stiles."

"To where?'' Amber asked.

Alicia shrugged. "He wouldn't say. Only that it was someplace you won't be able to find him." She sighed. "I was kinda disappointed. I'd have liked a crack at that scar-faced bastard myself."

"You're turning into a regular warrior woman, you know that?"

"I'm turning into a lot of things. Change is good. Now go on, go take that shower."

Amber did as Alicia suggested. But as she stood beneath the shower spray, she found herself amazed at the new shape of her body. She would have stood naked in front of a mirror, had there been one in the house. She ran her hands over her belly, and as she did, something jabbed upward.

Amber went still, keeping her hand where it was. The baby kicked again, and she smiled, then laughed out loud. "Hey, in there. Guess you're awake, huh?"

She wondered if that meant anything. The baby being awake and active during the daylight hours. God, so many questions. How had her own mother ever managed to get through the uncertainty, the worry?

She got dressed, pulling on her own jeans but leaving them unbuttoned and unzipped, the fly folded inward.

She wore one of Eric's white button down shirts and her own bra, though she had to loosen the straps. She and Alicia shared a tower of pancakes, a luscious omelet and a pot of coffee, and then Amber fetched the packages from the trunk of the car and showed Alicia all the baby things she'd bought. They talked all day, and Alicia rubbed lotion on Amber's swollen belly to ease the rapid stretching of her skin, which was beginning to burn and itch.

By sundown, she was feeling a bit more optimistic-no doubt thanks to Alicia's constant positive conversation, on top of Edge's promises of the night before. She believed in him, in spite of herself. Maybe... somehow, everything really would be all right. Maybe Edge could somehow get the truth out of Stiles, and Eric could use it to solve the mystery of her blood.

Maybe.

She sighed, looking up from her comfy seat in the living room when Edge came in, moments after dusk. He stopped in the doorway, met her eyes across the room. It hit her then that she was doing what he wanted her to do. Trusting him, believing in him. Depending on him. It was something she'd never intended to do, and something that frightened her. She liked being in control, taking care of herself, needing no one. This... this was different.

She was completely in love with him. And that scared her even more.