Parahuman (Parahuman Series) Read online

  When the man was done cleaning he picked up a surgical staple gun and began closing the most severe of Devan’s gouges. Laney winced each time a staple snapped into his skin. Feeling a soothing rub against her wrist Laney looked down to see Devan’s thumb stroking circles on her skin.

  She looked up to see that Devan’s eyes were open, and they were focused intently upon her. The clicking of the staple gun faded into the background as Laney was sucked into magnetic golden eyes; unable to look away.

  The color reminded her of an owl she’d once seen, but unlike that animal’s vacant stare Devan’s held a multitude of emotions. There was pain, pain that he kept rigidly maintained, and anxiety.

  What really caught her attention was the longing. Laney recognized it because she felt it in her own heart, and she knew it was reflected in her eyes the same as his. That might be where the anxiety was coming from because she was feeling it also. It disturbed her, the powerful feelings she had for Devan, but even though she might be somewhat disturbed by it she knew it wouldn’t stop her from helping him in any way she could.

  “Devan; I’m going to turn you over on your side so I can get your back.”

  Devan’s gaze suddenly broke from hers causing Laney to blink in bemusement. Looking around she noticed that the man—she really needed to find out his name—was finished with Devan’s arm and was observing them both with what looked like astonishment and confusion.

  Laney’s face reddened in embarrassment at the thought that her feelings were stamped across her face for all to see. She didn’t need others observing and speculating over her thoughts and feelings before she was able to figure them out for herself.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Devan pulled his gaze from Laney with difficulty and settled it on Brett who was finished with his arm, and was now staring at Devan with anxiety, confusion and astonishment. Brett’s eyes flickered down and Devan knew that he was taking notice of his and Laney’s entwined hands, and even though Devan felt the weight of the apprehensive gaze he didn’t let go. It felt...nice; more than nice actually. Serenity and a sort of completeness enveloped him.

  Still holding Laney’s hand Devan rolled over so Brett could clean and bandage the claw punctures in his shoulders.

  After a few minutes he tapped Devan’s back. “All done.”

  Devan rolled to his back.

  Brett raised his gaze. “I’m going to wrap your arm and you need to take these antibiotics.” Brett handed over two pills. Devan popped them in his mouth and swallowed them with the help of the glass of water Brett passed him.

  Brett picked up a roll of medi wrap and iodine for his arm. “This could have been a really close call.”

  Devan heard Laney’s breath catch softly. He looked over at her to see her giving him a frightened and accusatory expression. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he looked into her eyes. “I was monitoring my vitals.”

  She gave a shake of her head and a ‘humph’ in response, and the accusatory expression on her face said she wasn’t impressed with his abilities.

  “I was monitoring your vitals too, on the way here, and your pulse was really weak.” Laney accused with a catch in her voice.

  Devan heard acute anxiety in her tone and a heavy weight settled on his chest. It felt like…guilt. Devan thought he had felt a touch while in deep meditation. He had slipped into it to slow his heart rate, which therefore decreased his blood flow resulting in less blood loss. He hadn’t expected that she would worry about him to this extreme, so even though guilt weighed him down another emotion settled in his chest that she cared so much, and it felt nice.

  “My pulse was slow because I went into a deep meditative state.” Devan explained, hoping to alleviate her concern. “The meditation slows my physiological functions, reducing my heart rate and blood flow. I’m sorry; I should have explained to you what I was doing.”

  Laney’s reproachful expression didn’t lessen. “Well…whatever it was you still looked like you were dying on me.”

  Devan might have stared at her for an indeterminate amount of time if Brett hadn’t coughed indelicately next to him. He turned to see Brett looking at him in nervous astonishment; eyes conveying his concern at what Laney might know and what else might be revealed.

  “When you called me from the school you omitted the severity of you wounds.” Brett’s commented as he finished wrapping Devan’s arm.

  Devan looked back at Brett. “The severity of the wounds was irrelevant at the time as you could do nothing about it. You only needed the generalities.” When Brett leaned back Devan sat up and tested his arm, grudgingly disengaging his and Laney’s hands…the loss of her touch was like disconnecting a vital part of himself.

  The injection Brett had given him earlier had held only a minor dose of pain inhibitor so there was still some soreness, and the typical swelling from any injury plus the stitches in his arm caused a sensation of tightness. In all, it was uncomfortable, but manageable.

  Brett stood and began to gather up bloody rags and used needles with a pensive look on his face. “Do we have anything to worry about?”

  Brett’s concerns centered on whether anyone could have seen Devan do anything out of the ordinary. Well…it was rather obvious that someone had seen something anomalous.

  “I’m pretty sure that no one saw Devan. When I was questioned his name never came up and if someone had seen anything they would have said. They think I was alone in that building and that I killed the wolf.”

  Devan and Brett turned to Laney as she answered the question that troubled both their minds. Her expression was grave and confident, validating her words.

  She looked Devan in the eye. “They won’t hear anything different from me.”

  Devan’s heart tripped at her words. She was telling them she would keep their secret. Why would she do that?

  “Why would you do that?” Brett voiced his question out loud with a frown.

  Laney looked over at Brett. “I don’t know why you need to keep away from the police, but Devan saved my life, at least two and a half times, so I have no problem doing this for you. Especially since it’s not even hurting anyone. It’s not hurting anyone, right?” She asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  “No.” Devan and Brett answered simultaneously.

  Laney’s expression displayed a measure of relief at their response. Devan felt another flicker of shock that she was putting so much faith in their truthfulness. How could she be convinced that they were telling the truth? Laney didn’t come across as gullible, but her absolute trust was disturbing a little bit.

  Laney gaze was intense. “I don’t know why I trust that you’re telling the truth, I just do. In fact, I don’t have an iota of doubt.”

  Was she reading his mind?

  A small smile touched her lips. “If that makes me seem naive then so be it.”

  What the heck?

  “Without those sunglasses hiding half your face it has become a whole lot easier to read you.” Laney said with one eyebrow raised.

  Devan’s brows slanted down in a frown. He wasn’t easy to read. It had been imparted to him many times that his face was very difficult to read. ‘A stone mask’ was a phase used often, in fact.

  From behind him Brett emitted a choked cough.

  “It’s gone suddenly, and awkwardly silent. I’m starting to miss your single syllable responses.” Laney mumbled. She stood up wearing a self-conscious grin and her posture radiated ill-at-ease. The situation was finally getting to her.

  “Devan?”

  Devan heard the question in Brett’s tone. He was troubled, and the list was long on what he was troubled about no doubt.

  “Brett, can you give us some time alone?”

  Devan asked the question of Brett with an inadequate comprehension of what he was going to do with the time alone with Laney. She muddled up his thoughts processes completely, and that was just not like him. He hated the disorder she brought to his mind…but at the
same time he liked many of the other sensations she wrought in him. It was endlessly perplexing.

  “I’m going to go make you something to eat, you need it after that blood loss…and I’ll make something for your…friend also.”

  Laney stepped forward with a smile. “I’m Laney Jennings.”

  Brett took her hand hesitatingly and the smile he returned was strained. “Brett Ferris.” Releasing her hand Brett gave Devan another pointed look before he left the room.

  Devan gazed awkwardly at Laney have no idea what to say. Actually, he was curious about something.

  “Why did you remain at the school?” Devan had thought he had been hallucinating when he’d heard Laney calling him out of his meditation on top of the school building. Looking over that roof top to see her indeed standing there had caught him a little off guard.

  She shrugged. “I thought you might find somewhere to hide as you waited for everyone to leave, so I stayed. It was a little difficult because no one wanted to leave me alone; especially my dad, but he went into the woods with a few others to look for the wolves.”

  “You wanted an explanation, no doubt?” She had to be extremely curious as to why he had to get away, why he couldn’t be on the news, and why he couldn’t go to the doctors.

  “Well sure, I would like to know what’s going on, but that isn’t why I stuck around.” She looked up, her green eyes intense with emotion. “I knew you were seriously injured and I wanted to make sure you were going to be alright. I was worried.” She sounded piqued that he had made her worry. “And then I saw you and thought…great, you’re alive at least, but then I got a look at your arm, and that you had lost a lot of blood, and it looked like you were about to pass out. There was no way you could have drove yourself home.” She stated forcefully, sounding in no way sorry for butting in on his bleeding to death moment.

  Devan really didn’t know how to reply to all that. “What does ‘coly how’ mean?” He asked instead.

  She looked up at him in surprise.

  “You said it when I climbed down.” He informed her.

  Laney looked confused, like she didn’t remember saying the words. “‘Coly how’ is actually ‘holy cow’ with the first letters switched around. My mom used to say there wasn’t anything holy about a cow, or for that matter a cannoli or crap. We discussed different options and came up with ‘coly how’.” A small smile curved her lips and Devan wondered what her thoughts were.

  Holy cannoli, holy crap? He remembered her religion and the significance of false idols. How anyone could worship a cannoli or crap was beyond even him though. “This has something to do with the golden calf parable of your religion?”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Aaron made a golden calf to worship and when Moses came down the mountain he was given a stern reprimand for it.”

  Laney’s confusion cleared and she laughed. “Reprimand, I like that. Yes, that’s why I don’t say ‘holy cow’, because there’s nothing holy about a cow.” She shook her head and grinned at him. “We are just all over the world today with our conversation.”

  Devan heard Brett coming back down the hallway the smell of food preceding him, and Devan’s stomach growled loudly in response. This caused Laney to laugh again. Her laugh set off a different rumbling in his chest.

  Brett walked in the room with two plates of food; one a heaping plate of peanut butter sandwiches and the other a plate of boiled eggs. He had three orange juice bottles under his arms. He gave them both a flummoxed look at the open amusement. Setting everything down on the dresser he turned to walk back out the door, backwards, giving them lingering looks of anxious incomprehension.

  Laney watched him leave in amusement. She turned and gave Devan an impish grin. “Is he listening around the corner?”

  Devan shook his head in negation. Brett’s footsteps had headed down the hall toward the…kitchen. The rattling of utensils and opening of cupboards followed.

  Laney gazed at him attentively. “What’s he doing?”

  Devan considered her question for a second. There was really no reason to prevaricate; she’d observed too many of his abilities. “He’s cleaning up the kitchen.”

  She seemed to process that for a few seconds with only mild astonishment, nodding her head to some unobservable method of reasoning before answering. “Okay.”

  Devan reached down to remove the needles from his arm.

  “Are you sure you should be doing that, just thirty minutes ago you were passed out.” She took a step closer with a look of concern.

  “Not passed out, meditating.” Devan reminded her. “I’m fine, really. Look, the blood has all been transfused, I’m alert and coherent. It’s just my stomach that needs some attention now.” She didn’t look convinced, but Devan wasn’t going to placate her by keeping them in. He didn’t have a problem with needles per say. He’d been poked constantly with them for ten years and even now his blood was drawn on a monthly basis to be tested for anomalies and also for a fresh supply, but the less he had to do with them the better. Extracting them Devan grabbed both plates and set them in front of him on the bed. He had enough forethought to offer her one of the sandwiches and a bottle of orange juice before stuffing half a sandwich in his mouth.

  Opening the bottle of juice she took a drink and then set it on the dresser. She turned and scrutinized the room as she ate the sandwich. Devan had an idea of the questions flying around in her head, but he still wasn’t sure what he could, or should, say to answer any of them. Better to just get a more thorough understanding of the situation they were dealing with.

  “What did you end up telling everyone after I left?”

  She continued eating and examining the room. “I told them that after the wolf crashed through the window I used it as a punching bag using a couple of football helmets for a while, and then when I got bored I staked it with a ski pole.”

  Devan chewed his sandwich and contemplated her expression. She looked completely serious, could it be possible that she had really told them that and they had believed her? It seemed unlikely. Maybe she just wasn’t a good liar and had recounted what she had seen him do and thought no one would question it.

  “I’m kidding.” She said rolling her eyes. “You should have seen your face. Like anyone was going to believe I wrestled with a wolf and received no injuries during the assault. I told them I was using the ski pole as protection and got lucky when it jumped at me impaling itself on the pole. It happens all the time in the movies.” She said this casually, as if it were really so. Devan couldn’t be sure since he didn’t watch a lot of movies. “They were a little mystified though on how I got the door open. I just told them that it had been really shaky, possibly from others trying to get in and that it had given easily when I finally tried it.”

  “Did everyone seem to believe your story?” If she was doubted people would talk.

  She nodded. “Nobody questioned whether I was telling the truth, everyone was just glad I was safe.”

  “And no one made any mention of me?” This was the vital detail. If he had been observed going into that building with her then talk would abound, and that would be too much of a risk. This incident was sure to become public knowledge.

  “I didn’t hear anyone say anything, and no one approached me about it. Believe me; if anyone had seen you they would have said something. I think everyone was more focused on getting to safety then what the person next to them might have been doing.” The smile she gave him was one of reassurance.

  Unfortunately, they couldn’t be certain of that. Only after the story had circulated and everyone recounted their own narrative of the events could they be certain he wasn’t in it.

  Laney walked up to his dresser to examine three wooden animal figurines. “These are really detailed,” she observed, picking up the eagle and turning it over in her hands. Her head swung his way. “You made these?” She asked, possibly impressed if he deduced correctly from her raised eyebrow.

  Mouth fu
ll of egg Devan could only nod.

  “These are all very distinct animals; the bald eagle, a jaguar…”

  “Jaguar.” Devan corrected.

  She threw a look his way before continuing. “A lizard of some sort, and a monkey of another sort.”

  “A salamander and a gibbon monkey.” He supplied, gulping down his fourth sandwich.

  “I’ve been lucky enough to see a bald eagle,” she stated, setting down the eagle and picking up the jaguar. She ran her fingers along the spine of the animal as though petting it. “Why these animals; is there something special about them?”

  Wow! That couldn’t have been a more perceptive opening question. What could he possibly say? “I do have an affinity to them.” He acknowledged vaguely. It was hard to break years of secrecy.

  She turned around to face him; her eyes narrowed. “You seem to have an affinity for many things. You’re an amazing trekker and climber. You’ve taken on a mountain lion and a wolf. These are beautiful figurines you’ve carved. It would appear as though you play an instrument, unless it’s just for show.” She gestured toward his guitar and took a deep breath, but only so she could keep going. “The books in your room are not the normal variety seen in a teenager’s bedroom; architecture, a collection of math volumes that I’ve never heard of, science, physics, and other daunting literature. Sheesh, where’s the sports magazines and other risqué reading material.” She ended her tirade standing at the end of his bed, hands on her hips, looking at him in frustration. It was surprisingly intimidating…and she seemed to be waiting for some kind of reply. Though he doubted it was what she wanted to hear he answered the only question he heard in long-winded discourse.

  “Sorry, no sports magazines.”