Pulse

Chapter 26

Lucie

I woke up to the soft sound of my own breath in my ears, my eyes fixed blankly at the colorless ceiling. I blinked, eyes trailing one of the overhead fan's blades as it spun. My tongue was dry; I coughed, trying to gather my thoughts.

To my surprise, I was able to draw myself up to a sitting position with ease. My muscles were sore, but otherwise, I felt normal. The room was dark, the slate gray walls strung with foreign posters that looked unpromising. I lay in a rumpled bed, navy sheets and a white comforter pulled up to my waist. The purples and pinks of the sunset beyond the window washed the room in vibrance and beauty.

"Lucie? You up?" came Vinny's voice from no particular direction.

There was muffled shouting behind the bedroom's door. I thought I recognized Cian's voice somewhere in the ruckus. I rubbed my eyes as Vinny floated down to my bedside, brushing flaxen hair from his eyes. "Hey," I said, not recognizing the fatigue in my voice. I managed a smile. "You're alive."

He cocked his head. "You could say that."

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He scoffed, folding his arms. The joy I felt at his regained strength was at an immeasurable amount, like the cells in my veins. "Forget about me. What we need to talk about is you, missy."

I had only been called "missy" by old elementary school teachers who got angry at me for making kids cry, which hadn't been a rare occasion. I didn't know how to put a cap on it then, and that hasn't exactly changed. For this reason, I chuckled again, leaning back against the headboard. Regarding Vinny from underneath my eyelashes, I admitted, "I guess. I fainted, didn't I? I think I fainted."

"Yeah, you fainted," Vinny answered. Concern flickered over his expression. "Cian says he knows why, but..."

"He wants to tell me himself."

It seemed like something Cian would do.

There was a long pause before Vinny spoke next. His voice was suddenly mournful, a frown on his face as he looked at me. "Lucie, there's been some things he hasn't been telling you."

I bit my lip. There it was again: the fragility of trust. "Like what?"

Before Vinny could answer, the door to the bedroom swung open, striking the wall with its force. Cian strode into the room, his head down and a frown on his face. His gait was unusually speedy as he entered, ceasing for a moment to look from Vinny to me and back to Vinny again. He exhaled, pointing in my direction. "You gave me a heart attack, woman."

"I did not," I countered. "Wouldn't that mean I was dead?"

The scarred side of Cian's lips snuck up a bit, a dimple forming in his cheek. "Well, I'm glad you're not. You're okay, right?"

I nodded. "How long was I asleep?"

Cian sat down on the edge of the bed, beside his younger brother. "Not long. An hour and a half, at most," he answered, and raked a hand up through his hair, gaze momentarily on the ground. I noticed the unrest in his expression, the subtle twitching of his mouth, the turmoil struck in his eyes. It made me wonder what the shouting had been about. "Look, Lucie, I think I've figured it out. Why you can see Vinny, I mean."

The room regressed to silence.

Cian reached out, hesitated, and took my arm in his hand, the one with the fleshy scar splitting my forearm in half. His thumb pressed right where my pulse beat, fingers curving respectfully around my skin. He lent me a wary look, running his tongue briskly over his split lip. "You see that, don't you?"