The Dead of Night

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter 23: The Cloaker.

The clock on my nightstand clicked midnight and I was still pacing the floor. My eyes trailed to the window I had left opened for a specific purpose; I was waiting for Eric. He had dropped me off, after not speaking during the ride home, and told me he'd come visit me at midnight. However, here I was, waiting, and he still wasn't here. I tried to tell myself that being here right at midnight was an unlikely expectation—especially if Lazarus was at the McRaes' house. Then again, what would it mean if that really was him? Lazarus had left in order to keep the others safe; so, why was he here? On top of that, if he was here, did that mean Ary would be coming back soon?

The possibilities had me reeling and, before I knew it, I was forced to sit on my bed. My head fell to my hands as I thought about Eric's tirade earlier today. If I was being honest with myself, Eric had terrified me. In all my experience with vampires, not once had I been scared of someone I cared for. Even Edward never made me fear him.

I was so consumed with my thoughts and comparisons that I didn't see Eric climb through my window and take a seat in my rocking chair. When I finally looked up I spied him, and, after a soft gasp, stood up.

"Hi," I said softly, not moving from my position.

"Hi," he answered, just as quietly.

We stayed where we were, not moving and not looking away from one another. My stomach was doing flips as I wondered why he had wanted to come over. He appeared so angry when he dropped me off, I couldn't fathom how he'd want to talk to me if he was so upset. A deep pain cut through me as I feared he was here to tell me goodbye. My chest heaved a bit and I lowered my eyes, allowing my arm to wrap around my midsection tightly.

My body quaked, imagining yet another family disappearing like they never existed, and I felt extremely weak. My face cringed as the pain twisted and whirled through my veins, reaching deeper than the pain over the Cullens ever had. I wasn't sure if this was because this was the second loss, or because Eric meant more. Just as I felt I was about to lose my mind, a familiar chilly touch brought me back to reality.

My eyes trailed sideways to the site where Eric cupped my cheek, and I closed my eyes, reveling in the cold sensation. The irony didn't escape me, causing me to chuckle at the pleasure I found in something frigid.

Eric's other hand found the other side of my cheek, and I opened my eyes to find his golden eyes staring into me. The loving expression on his face was comfortingly familiar. He traced my cheek and pulled his hand away, his finger glistened like it was wet. I hadn't even noticed that I had been crying.

"I'm so sorry," he said and moved his body to stand closer to me. His breath, a sweet intoxication, covered me and sent my head into a whirlwind. His arms wrapped around me slowly and pulled me in, much softer than he had back at the house, and we stayed like this for a few minutes.

It was me that eventually pulled away, wanting to know what exactly was going on. I separated our bodies and, feeling that my head was still a bit swimmy, I sat on the edge of my bed.

"Tell me what's happening," I said directly and immediately noticed the change in his expression. "If there's something going on, Eric, I have a right now know. My father's been out there in the woods nearly every day; I need to know he's safe."