“George,” she whispered. “I’m George, Carl.”
Then she took his hand. His gentle, pale green hand.
And the world came to a screeching halt.
For a moment, there was no sound in the kitchen. There was no movement. There was only Carl’s hand in hers, a pinpoint of pure innocence and kindness that curled around her heart, pumping life into it, seconds before chaos erupted in her brain.
George’s head exploded with sound, with screams so agonizing, she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Piercing, terrified wails she somehow instantly knew were internal and silent to everyone but the person screaming.
It was as though someone were trapped in their own body with no way out. Without realizing, George found herself clinging to Carl’s hand, her heart thrashing inside her chest, her ear cocked to locate the wails of the cries she heard.
And then she realized, the screams were…
The screams were Carl’s.
She looked into his eyes, so bright and alert, and reached up to cup his cheek and choked out, “Carl…?”
He instantly looked down at his sneakers, a hot tear slipping from his eye, landing on her hand with a splash before she pulled him to her and held him close.
She didn’t fully understand what had happened to him, but every fear, all his sadness, every ounce of terror he’d experienced some time in his life landed squarely in her soul, leaving her heart heavy, her body depleted.
The only thing she did understand was his pain. She knew that pain, that soul-scorching, bone-deep pain.
“Oh, Carl. I’m so sorry,” George whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry. So-so sorry.”
The moment she spoke was the moment Carl leaned against her and sighed, as though someone acknowledging his agony was a relief.
The room stayed quiet, but George almost didn’t notice. Rather, she was too caught up in letting Carl’s feelings course through her.
All of them. The good, the bad, the almost too horrible to voice.
Chapter 7
“Bud?” Nina asked, placing her hand on Carl’s back and rubbing her palm in circles, her lean face hard with worry. “What’s happening? Tell me, so I can help.”
But Carl shook his head against George’s shoulder, reaching a hand behind him to grab onto Nina’s. “I’m…s’okay.”
Nina’s face went soft, an expression George hadn’t expected or witnessed since she’d met the hardened vampire except for when she’d met Gladys.
She didn’t understand the relationship between them, but his feelings for the vampire ran deep and grateful, but most of all, Carl had a maternal attachment to Nina. George had felt the emotions, experienced them as if they were her own.
“What’s happening, Wings?” Nina asked with a terse tone, clearly making an attempt to keep her temper in check. “He’s my kid. Tell me what’s going on.”
She didn’t make any threats, but George sensed her anguish and her ire. “Something bad happened. I think…” She tried to articulate into words the agony she’d felt pulsing through Carl. “Not recently. But maybe a long time ago?”
Marty, her eyes wet and glistening, looked at Carl in sympathy before smoothing her hand over his shiny hair. “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but Carl, the sweetest boy who ever lived, has a past we don’t know a lot about. He came to us when he was… older. We’ve always known his past was troubled, but he’s never been able to tell us because he’s only in the last couple of years just learning to speak. Am I right, sweet boy?” she asked, pressing her cheek to Carl’s shoulder.
Dex put his hand on George’s arm and gave it a squeeze, drawing her attention to his face. He smiled at her, warm and understanding. “You felt what he once experienced, I think. It appears that’s the kind of angel you are, George. Empathic.”
An empath? That meant she would feel everyone else’s feelings, right? She’d read that somewhere, or heard it on a TV show. But what did that mean for her? Would she always feel everyone’s sorrow? Rejection?
She hadn’t realized what was happening while she was in the height of Carl’s emotional thoughts, but now she was left depleted. Overwhelmed, but also a little exhilarated when Carl thanked her.
Suddenly, George needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She was raw, as though someone had rubbed sandpaper over her nerve endings. As Carl pulled away and went to Nina’s embrace, George softly excused herself and headed for the front door with Gladys right behind her.
Outside, she took deep gulps of freezing-cold air, unmindful of the snow falling or the fact that it was plastering her long hair to her head and she didn’t even have a coat. The long stretch of front yard, a blanket of white, was serene out here in the suburbs of Buffalo.
Quiet with no one for miles around, the peaceful setting soothed her bruised heart. She took deep breaths, inhaling the sharp air into her lungs and letting it go with a whoosh.
The Christmas lights around the gardens bordering the front of Marty’s beautiful farmhouse twinkled and danced in the dusk, the mechanical reindeer on the massive front lawn dipping their heads toward the ground.
Standing on the big front porch surrounded by beautiful rocking chairs and a porch swing, Christmas pillows casually thrown on its surface, George absorbed and digested those last moments with Carl as she stroked her faithful companions back.
“Hey, Wings. You okay?” Nina asked, as she poked her head out the door.
Her head moved up and down slowly. Was she okay? Of course she was physically okay. Mentally? Mentally, she was a jumble. “I’m fine, Nina. I just…it…whatever happened to Carl, it…well, it caught me off guard.”
How could she explain to someone what had just happened? God, it felt awful, and she’d only held the fear for a few moments. For Carl, she sensed it had haunted him for a very long time.
