Chapter Twenty-Four
The next few seconds were terrible. They were filled with a sudden and awesome silence in which it seemed that every single person in the auditorium had turned to stone—had stopped even the necessary intake of breath as they waited in paralyzed shock. It was a silence in which the resonating crack of Justyn’s body hitting the ground seemed to echo over and over in her ears.
Rebecca was the only person in the room who was moving—or more appropriately, flying—down the platform stairs. All thoughts of her own clumsiness were forgotten as she rushed to Justyn’s side, even when she tripped near the bottom. She hardly noticed the bruises on her knees as she pulled herself back to her feet, only to fall back down beside the shattered remnants of the wooden flames next to Justyn’s body—Justyn’s still, unmoving body. Rebecca pressed her hand against her mouth and gasped, terrified.
“Justyn? Justyn, are you all right?”
The voice she heard was so tight and scratchy; she could hardly believe it was her own. Around her, other people were repeating the same question, but she was having trouble focusing on them. All she could see was Justyn. All she could hear was her own heart pounding in her chest as she waited. She wanted to touch him, to roll him over. But some small part of her brain that was still functioning rationally knew it wasn’t a good idea to move people who had fallen, especially from a large height. The less rational side of her was afraid that if she dared to try, she would find him impaled by the splintered wood. Afraid he might turn to dust before her very eyes, thus fulfilling the fate of a vampire once and for all.
“Justyn . . . please . . . .”
Why wasn’t he moving? Was he even breathing? He couldn’t be . . . couldn’t be . . . No! She wouldn’t even think it. It was too terrible. Justyn was fine. He had to be fine. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to take him away from her when they only just found each other. She had never spent much time thinking about divinity, but Justyn’s Goddess would never be so cruel.
“Someone . . . someone call 911.” Miss King’s voice cracked the order from the sidelines, and all at once at least half a dozen cell phones were flipped open and started beeping as a multitude of trembling fingers fumbled to press the three simple digits.
“No, no don’t . . . .” The muffled reply came from the crumpled black heap on the floor. It was a voice she would know anywhere. Justyn’s voice, sweet and melodic even though it was strained, and he seemed short of breath.
“Justyn . . . ?”
Unbelievable relief flooded through her when he rolled over, and with a small groan managed to pull himself, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet. “I’m fine. Just winded,” he croaked.
Rebecca immediately reached out a hand to help him up, as did several of the stagehands, but he brushed them all away, looking undeniably annoyed by their efforts. Rebecca could understand him wanting to play the tough guy when his ego had been so horribly bruised. But she would have thought he would have accepted at least her help, even if it were only to get back at Tom.
Tom had at some point climbed back down the stairs as well, and was visibly relieved to see Justyn on his feet. Justyn glared at him from across the stage. But for once, neither of them took it any further. She didn’t think they could have started fighting again, even if they wanted to. She wasn’t quite sure which one of them looked more wobbly-legged. She could still sense as much as see the anger radiating from Justyn, a wave of dangerous heat that might drown them all in its intensity if she didn’t intervene.
“Justyn, are you hurt?”
Miss King was fretting around him like a typical nervous Nelly. What kind of stupid question was that to ask anyway? Obviously he was hurt. He had just fallen fifteen feet. Already Rebecca could see an ugly black and purple bruise appearing on his left temple. And blood was running down his chin where Tom had split open his lip. But when she watched him close his eyes and grimace, and was pretty certain she saw him sway just a little, she echoed the same rhetorical question as the teacher.
“Are you okay?”
Justyn turned, and seemed to notice her there for the first time. The blind fury had faded from his eyes, but he remained silent. He looked like he wanted to say something. His mouth even opened and closed a few times. But instead of talking, he nodded his head and climbed down the stage steps, albeit very slowly and with some difficultly. He didn’t acknowledge the shocked stares of his cast mates as he walked out the door without a backward glance.
Rebecca was probably the most shocked of all, staring at his retreating back with her jaw very nearly touching the floor. But then she collected herself, and without taking a moment to wonder what anyone thought about it, she moved forward to dart after him. She hadn’t even made it to the steps before Tom stepped in front of her and blocked her path.
She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to scream every nasty four-letter word she had ever heard while she pummeled him with her bare hands. But she only wanted to do that for about a millisecond. Then she looked at his face which had already been a mask of pain and grief before the incident, but which now had the added lines of deep regret. How could she scream at him when she knew he was already berating himself for what he had done? Besides, she knew in her heart that Tom had never had any intention of doing any more than throwing a few punches. And even though someone obviously had worse intentions when they sawed the platform railing, she couldn’t for a second imagine that person had been Tom.
“Becca, I’m so sorry. But you have to know . . . I mean, you understand . . . I didn’t mean for him to fall. You do believe that, don’t you?”
“I know, Tom,” Rebecca told him. “I know it was an accident, but I can’t talk about it now. I have to go.”
“You’re going after him?”
It was half question and half accusation, but Rebecca didn’t have time to explain things to him. Even though she hated the hurt look she saw in his eyes, she brushed past Tom and was down the stairs in a flash.
She heard Carmen calling, saw Debbie watching tight-lipped and shaking her head in the shadows behind the curtain. She even noticed Wendy scowling at her as she ran past her. She ignored them all as she followed the path that Justyn had taken. It didn’t take her long to find him. He was at his locker, leaning his bruised head against the cool metal. One hand was clutching his side. Rebecca felt an immediate rush of concern that bordered on sheer terror. Justyn, her mystical, beautiful creature of darkness, couldn’t be hurt. It just didn’t seem possible that a fairytale creature could get hurt.
She approached him with caution, like she would a wounded animal. But she was certainly not very stealthy because even though she tried to inch up on him slowly and quietly, he heard her soft footsteps. He knew immediately who it was without turning around or even opening his eyes, giving even more credence to what she truly believed were supernatural abilities of perception.
“I’m fine, Becca.” She didn’t need to see his eyes to know that on some level they were rolling. She heard the exasperation in his voice. “You don’t need to worry about me. Go back to Tom. I’m sure he’s not going to be happy that you came after me.”
Rebecca felt the ridiculous urge to stomp her foot, to have an all-out tantrum. How could he be so stupid, so blind, so downright annoying? For someone that she knew for a fact was highly intelligent, he sure had a strange habit of acting like a moron.
“I don’t want to go back to Tom,” she informed him as she crossed her arms defiantly.
“Really?”
He turned his head around so he could cock his eyebrow, but he still leaned heavily on the lockers. She wouldn’t have thought it was possible for him to be any paler than his normal shade, but his face was a ghastly white, except for the areas that were bruised and bloodied. Yet, although she knew he had to be hurting physically, the pain, the yearning, in his eyes was so much more intense. It made her heart swell with emotion. That stupid lump was back. She had to clear her throat.
“Look at you. You’re a mess.” She gestured towards his face. “You’re bleeding.”
Justyn looked confused at first, like he hadn’t even realized he was hurt at all until she pointed it out to him. He flinched a little as he gingerly fingered his broken lip. When he lifted his hand away and saw the bright red stain on his fingers, his already chalk white face turned an awful combination of gray and green. Rebecca only barely caught hold of his arm as his legs gave way beneath him. She did her best to gently ease him to the ground, even though he was almost twice her size.
“Justyn!” She exclaimed.
She was already digging into her handbag for her cell phone, sure that she was going to have to call for help after all. For a split second, she imagined him completely passing out, slipping into a coma, and never waking up again. She pulled the phone out of its casing, and was just about to start dialing. He stopped her before she hit the first digit. Then he gently pulled the phone free from her fingers, closed it back up and handed it to her.
“I’m okay. Really.”
Was it her imagination or did he actually sound a little sheepish? Well, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t falling for it.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I swear that I’m fine. It’s just that I’m . . . .” He looked like he was fighting back the urge to gag as he looked at the blood on his fingers again. “I’m not really good around . . . blood.”
If he wasn’t so pale, he might have blushed. Rebecca felt a little relieved, and had to smile, even though he was completely mortified by his confession. She couldn’t resist the urge to tease him just a little.
“You’re afraid of blood? What kind of vampire are you?”
Now there was no denying the fact that he looked sheepish. He was even pouting a little. “The kind that’s a vegetarian.”
She actually laughed out loud which coaxed the smallest of smiles out of him. “Okay, tough guy, stay here. I’ll get something to clean this up before you go and pass out on me.”
Rebecca ran across the hallway to the nearest ladies’ room, grabbed a few paper towels, and wet them under the sink before emerging to play Florence Nightingale. Justyn was sitting on the hallway floor, with his head between his knees. Somehow seeing him so wretchedly human for the first time since they had met made her want him that much more. She smiled as she knelt down by his side, and gently lifted his chin. He grimaced a little as the cold water stung the open wound.
Rebecca gave an exaggerated huff. “Come on, now. Don’t be a big baby.”
He certainly would have smirked if it wouldn’t have made the bleeding worse. She noted with slight humor that he actually kept his eyes closed while she dabbed the blood away, and didn’t open them again until he knew the stained paper towels were disposed of. After tossing them into the nearest wastebasket, she gave him the go ahead to open his eyes.
“There now. All better?”
Justyn notably grimaced as she helped him to his feet. She felt his hands tremble, so she knew he was a far cry from better. But he didn’t complain as he tossed a few textbooks into his bag. Rebecca chewed her lower lip nervously as she watched him. Actually, studied him would be a better way to describe it.
“Can I drive you home?” Rebecca asked when he headed toward the door without another word. She wasn’t sure what to make of his attitude. She liked it better when he was talking, even if it was sarcastically.
“I’ve got my bike.”
Rebecca felt her mouth fall back open and wondered if it might be possible for it to get stuck that way. “You can’t ride a bike home. You’re hurt.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“You hit your head pretty hard. What if you have a concussion? What if you pass out or something?”
“I said I’m fine.”
He actually had the nerve to sound annoyed about her concern. That of course made Rebecca annoyed, and she considered leaving the stubborn jerk to his bike and going back to practice. She even stopped dead in her tracks for all of thirty seconds. But then her feelings for him overwhelmed her pride and she started following him again, feeling like a lovesick puppy dog following a grumpy master that might just kick her to the side. But she was glad that she held her ground. Because when Justyn bent down to unchain his bike and than made a valiant effort to climb up onto the seat, he couldn’t deny anymore that he was hurt worse than he was letting on. The bike fell to the ground with a loud clank, and he very nearly doubled over, clutching his side and gasping for breath.
“Justyn!”
Rebecca ran up and put her arm gently around his waist, careful not to hurt him worse as she helped him to stand upright. He didn’t fight her. In fact, he leaned heavily against her as he tried to even his breathing. But he still wasn’t ready to completely let go of his stubborn pride.
“I’m . . . fine.” He insisted.
“The fact that you’re normally extensive vocabulary has been reduced to two words is all the proof I need that you’re not fine. Now let me see.”
At any other time, Rebecca would have been just as shocked as Justyn at her own audacity as she pulled his black t-shirt up to see his injured side. But she was too startled by the awful skin discoloration she saw to feel any shyness. She was pretty sure her own face turned as gray as his, and she found it almost funny that he was suddenly trying to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “Really. It’s not a big deal.”
“So you’re a doctor now?” she asked, once she had recovered the use of her vocal cords.
“It’s . . . aghhh . . . .” He bent over again. “It’s . . . nothing.”
“You’re a little off on your acting today. You’re not convincing me.” She gave him a hard stare. “I think you need to go the ER.”
He shook his head firmly. “No.”
“No?” If she weren’t afraid that she might have hurt him worse, she would have slapped him silly.
“No,” he repeated. “Just take me home. Remember, I told you my mom’s an EMT. She’ll know what to do. I don’t need to go spend hours sitting in the ER.”
Rebecca was a little appeased, but only a little. She still thought a doctor was better than an EMT. But he wasn’t giving her a choice, so she had to agree. “All right. But I’m staying with you until she assures me that you’re all right.”
He smiled a little, even though his face was still shadowed with pain. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
Rebecca smiled back. “Maybe a little of both.”
She wanted to help him to the car, which was all the way on the other side of the parking lot, but he insisted he could walk on his own. It seemed that Lord Justyn, for all his pretty poetic talk, had just as much pride as any other guy his age. But once they got in the car and pulled away, she saw him close his eyes and try to fight back a spasm of pain when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was almost more than she could bear to know that he was hurting, and that she was helpless to stop it. She did the only thing she could, and reached across the driver’s seat to take his hand. He accepted her small offering. Every time they went over a pothole, he squeezed her fingers so hard that she thought he might break them. She didn’t care as long as it gave him some comfort. She focused her thoughts on cursing whatever idiot had paved the stupid, uneven roads.
Justyn gave Rebecca directions to his house, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that they lived only a few blocks apart. What she found even more surprising was that Justyn’s mother was pacing frantically up and down the driveway with a phone to her ear.
Even without the elaborate belly dance costume, it was impossible to mistake her. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her navy blue EMT uniform didn’t make her look any less like a super model than she had when she was dancing. How weird was it to feel plain next to her boyfriend’s—well almost her boyfriend’s—mother? It was hard not be feel a little envious of her perfect figure and strange, exotic charm.
When Darlene saw Justyn in the passenger seat of the unfamiliar car, her face lightened with visible relief. She looked anxious as she ran up to the car. That anxiety deepened as she watched her son struggle to step onto the pavement.
“Justyn! What happened? I knew something was wrong. I sensed it. I always know when you’re in trouble. Oh, Goddess, look at your face! Look at your beautiful face! Tell me who did this to you and I’ll make sure he knows all about karma and everything coming back three times.” Darlene gave new meaning to speed talking by giving that entire speech in a single, agitated breath.
“Calm down, Darlene. I’m fine.”
Rebecca felt like an outsider in an alien world as she stepped out of the driver’s seat and turned to Darlene. Maybe Justyn was going to make light of the situation, but Rebecca was going to make sure his mother had all the facts.
“He fell off the platform on the stage.”
“Fell, huh?” She gave Justyn a suspicious look. Then she turned back to Rebecca as though she knew questioning him would be pointless. “How high up?”
“Maybe fifteen feet.”
Darlene frowned. “Follow my finger with your eyes.” Justyn moved his eyes back and forth, following the path of Darlene’s hand, though he did it grudgingly. “Did you hit anything other than your head?”
It was obvious that Justyn had no intention of admitting to anything, so once again Rebecca found herself answering for him. “He hurt his side.”
Darlene heaved a heavy sigh. “Better come in the house and let me take a look at it. You come in too, Becca. I can use your help.”
Rebecca didn’t think it was really possible that the darkly beautiful woman could need help with anything, especially not from someone as blasé as she was. She followed them inside just the same. She needed to know Justyn was going to be all right before she even considered leaving.
Inside the house, it was easy for her to lose track of her thoughts. She might not have noticed as much if she hadn’t read Justyn’s Wiccan book. She saw evidence of witchcraft everywhere. There was a broom hanging on the door. Above the door was a plaque that announced “Blessed Be”, which was a typical Wiccan greeting. There were statues of the Goddess, displayed on shelves, in many different shapes and forms, and pentacles hanging from the walls. A black cat twirled around her ankles. But in contrast, there was an everyday sofa and loveseat combination in the family room. There was a television, too. There was no bubbling cauldron hanging in the fireplace. But there was still no way Rebecca could have walked into the house and not have known that someone unconventional lived there.
“What’s all the commotion?” The new voice came from somewhere in the kitchen.
“I told you, Matt. Didn’t I tell you something happened to him? I knew something had happened. And of course he never answers his phone.”
Justyn shrugged nonchalantly. “I forgot to charge it.”
“You’re always right about your premonitions, Darlene. But he can’t be hurt too badly if he still has a smart comeback.”
A smiling, good-natured man walked out into the living room. He looked like a strange match to the Gothic mother and son duo with his shoulder length blond dread locks, hemp jewelry, and Guatemalan pants. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and even that was pushing it. So Rebecca was a little surprised when he walked up to Darlene and kissed her on the cheek. She realized that the young hippie must be Justyn’s stepfather.
Matt stepped away from his wife and circled his stepson. He examined Justyn’s bruises with concern. But when he spoke, he sounded more like an older brother than a father figure. “Got your butt kicked, huh?”
Justyn rolled his eyes. “Thanks for pointing it out, Matt.”
“Well, you still got the girl to come home with you.” He smiled at Rebecca and winked a green eye. “It doesn’t matter if you win the fight as long as you still get the girl.”
Darlene punched his arm. “Keep your words of wisdom to yourself, buddy. I guarantee Becca isn’t going to be as easy a conquest as I was.”
Rebecca’s mind was whirling from the unorthodox conversation. She still hadn’t quite gotten past the part where Justyn’s mother had realized something was wrong before they had even got there. It was a little creepy, but at the same time, kind of amazing. It made her really start to believe that magic—at least magic by Wiccan standards—really did exist.
Darlene shooed Matt away and led them into Justyn’s room. She instructed her son to remove his shirt, which he did obligingly. He had no idea the effect his perfect, muscular chest had on Rebecca’s fluctuating heartbeat. Every muscle in her seemed to ache with unfamiliar longing as she watched Darlene examine him. She had to turn her eyes away, and look around at the gargoyle and dragon statues at the other end of the room, so her cheeks would stop burning.
“Looks like we have a few broken ribs.” Darlene observed. Then she sighed in exasperation. “Only a son of mine could choose the drama club over football and still come home with broken ribs.”
“It that something serious?” Rebecca asked.
Darlene smiled at her concern. “It’s not the end of the world. They’re going to need to be wrapped. I know some doctors are against that now, but I still think it’s the best thing. It will at least make it hurt a little less. Hold on one second. I’ll be right back.”
Darlene stood up and glided out of the room, leaving Rebecca alone with Justyn. He was trying exceptionally hard to play the tough guy, but it was one role he was having trouble mastering. His coloring was still pasty, and he grimaced almost every time he took a breath. Despite this, he was beautiful. His bare arms rippled with muscles; every sinew and curve of his chest was masculine perfection. Tom would have had a real fight on his hands if the railing hadn’t helped him.
Justyn caught her staring, and raised an eyebrow. She walked a little closer, and sat down beside him on the edge of the bed. For the first time, she noticed the tribal tattoo laced around his upper arm in an exotic Celtic design. Rebecca was surprised. She didn’t know many people under eighteen who actually had tattoos.
“Is that real?”
He rolled his eyes again. “No, I drew it myself with permanent marker.”
Rebecca couldn’t be angry about the obvious sarcasm. She heard the hint of laughter in the undertones. Besides, it really was a stupid question. She ran her fingers along the design, feeling that familiar jolt of energy run up her arm as soon as they made contact. She felt him shiver with unexpected pleasure, and was happy to see she could have the same dizzying effect on him that he always had on her.
“Your mom let you do that?”
He laughed, and then flinched because it apparently wasn’t a smart thing to do when you had broken ribs. “She helped me pick it out. Darlene is encouraging of individuality and self-expression. She would never do anything to hold back my creativity.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?” Rebecca was too worried about the flinching to think anymore about the tattoo, even though she had to admit it was kind of sexy.
“Only when I breathe.” She must have looked completely stricken because he immediately softened his tone, and leaned over to squeeze her hand. “It’s not that bad. Really. And it helps that you’re here. To know that you care.”
“I do care, Justyn,” Rebecca whispered. “About a lot more than just your ribs.”
He seemed surprised by her honestly, but if he was going to say anything—or perhaps declare his undying love, for example—the moment was ruined when his mother reappeared in the doorway with a roll of bandages in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.
“I made you some willow bark tea,” Darlene explained as she placed the cup on his desk. “It will help with the pain. This will work better than any bottle of pills you can purchase at the drugstore. And it’s all natural, one hundred percent organic herbs.” She gently lifted Justyn’s arm out the way, and started to wrap the bandages around the darkening bruises.
“What’s willow bark?” Rebecca asked.
“Darlene’s what some people would call a kitchen witch. She’s into home remedies and old wives’ tales,” Justyn told her.
Darlene rolled her eyes. “Willow bark is just a plant. Mixed with feverfew and valerian and a few other choice herbs, it will help with whatever ails you. In this house, we’re not real big on pumping our bodies full of drugs. Though, I have to tell you, Justyn, by tomorrow you might want to pop at least a couple aspirin. If you think you’re hurting now, wait until you wake up in the morning. You’ll be lucky if you can get out of bed at all.”
Rebecca didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like that Justyn was in pain at all, especially when it was at least inadvertently her fault. Darlene finally finished wrapping his ribs and left them alone. Rebecca hesitantly reached over to run her fingers along Justyn’s back, desperate to do something—anything—to ease his suffering.
He looked up at her with a sad expression of his face. It was a strange combination of loneliness and adoration. She had never seen him reveal quite so much of himself in such a simple glance. She discovered that she was even more drawn to him in the midst of his vulnerability. She wanted to kiss him, to touch him, to feel his arms around her. But she was afraid she was going to hurt him. Finally, he took the initiative and lifted up his hand to stroke her cheek. The simple touch sent a surge of electricity through her that ignited every part of her body with fire.
“So long I’ve lived in solitude.
Love is a joy that I always allude.
All that I ask if that your love will be true . . . .”
He stopped for a minute. It must have been hard to sing, even in such a sweet and delicate whisper. He took a shaky breath before continuing, replacing her name with Christine’s in the final line.
“Becca, can I ask this of you?”
In the play, this was where she was supposed to pull off the mask, revealing the twisted horror beneath. But Justyn’s mask had already been removed. The Gothic that everyone ridiculed and feared was gone. Lord Justyn was gone. And he was simply a boy, a boy falling in love with a girl. His face shown with the brightness of that newfound romance despite the physical pain he was feeling. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, Rebecca knew there was a lighter side to his dark personality.
This time, when he leaned down to kiss her, there were no interruptions. No one pulled away. No one resisted. She felt his lips touch hers and every last shred of doubt simply melted away as she found perfection in that one, gentle, loving kiss.