There was no time to waste. He picked her up and ran, kicking open doors until he found a restroom. Sitting her on the wide black ceramic benchtop beside the sink, he waved his hand for warm water. Keiko stared blankly into space, her mind stuck on whatever horror movie was playing inside her head.
“Hey, princess, come back to me.” There was no response. He wanted to roar, but he kept his voice gentle and his movements nonthreatening.
Brushing her silky hair back from where it’d fallen over her face, he tucked it behind her ear and let his fingers find the pulse in her throat. It was racing out of control. Her pale, almost translucent skin was ice-cold to his touch. He shrugged out of his shirt and wrapped it around her before it lost its warmth. Her breathing was shallow and fast. If it didn’t slow, she’d hyperventilate.
“Keiko, baby, I need you to focus on me.” He kept his tone soft and soothing, when he wanted to shout and rail.
There was no response.
Her pupils were enlarged, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Wherever she was, she was stuck there. His stomach twisted tight, and his hands shook as he picked up a soft cotton hand towel from the folded pile beside the sink. Recalling everything he’d gleaned about shock during his time in the army, he knew he had to calm her, ease her heart rate, slow her breathing, and keep her warm.
Running the towel under the warm water, he added several pumps of fragrant soap in the hope that the scent would fill the air and take away the metallic smell of blood. She didn’t move, didn’t register his presence at all. Gently, he lifted one foot and then the other, taking care to wash every trace of blood from them.
“You need to come back to me, baby. We’re in trouble here, and I can’t get you out of the building without your help.”
There was no response.
Mace felt something race through his body, straight to his heart, where it slammed into him. He stumbled back a step. It took a second for his stunned mind to realize what it was, because the last time he felt it was when he’d watched his mother die.
It was fear.
He was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to bring Keiko back to him. Afraid he couldn’t protect her.
Afraid.
With shaking hands, he tossed the blood-soaked towel into the basket beside the sink and grabbed a fresh one to dry her feet.
He couldn’t understand it. He’d sworn to himself as a child that he’d never let anyone make him feel afraid again after his mother died. And they hadn’t. When his grandfather had beaten him, he hadn’t been afraid. He’d mainly felt acceptance, because he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. When he’d been kicked out of foster home after foster home, again, no fear, only acceptance. There’d been no fear on the battlefield with his Army Ranger unit, either. No fear in the few minutes after the bomb hit and he knew his country had betrayed him. And no fear when he woke a century later, in a different world from the one he’d known, with different genetics than he’d been born with.
But in that bathroom, standing before Keiko, he found he was terrified. All because of a tiny woman with a big personality who had somehow worked herself under his skin in a way no one else had ever managed.
“Please.” He finished drying her feet, inspecting them to make sure there wasn’t even a speck of blood on them. “Keiko, come back to me. The blood is gone. It’s okay now.”
Lifting her, he cradled her in his arms, pressed his back to the wall, and slid down to sit on the floor, holding her tight in his lap. He wrapped himself around her, using his body heat to chase away the deadly chill that had her in its hold. He pressed her cheek against his chest, over his heart, hoping the sound would somehow, miraculously, help her calm her own riotous beat. His other hand stroked her back. Comforting her, soothing her, coaxing her back to him with his touch.
What’s wrong with her? The bat sounded lost.
“She’s in shock. I think stepping in blood was the last straw for her. She’s been through a lot.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the century.
Fix her, was the imperious demand.
“I’m trying,” he hissed instead of shouting, which was what he wanted to do.
He searched for something to tell her. Something beautiful to replace the horror in her mind. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t think of any pretty imagery to give her. There were no halcyon childhood stories to tell. No tales of wonder he could weave for her. All his traveling had been done in the name of war. His childhood had been a series of nightmares that became normal. And now, now he lived in the most dangerous area in the world and earned a living as a mercenary and smuggler. There wasn’t one memory in his mind that wasn’t tainted with violence, suffering, or the grime of survival.
Mace had never felt more helpless in his life.
“Help me.” He forced the words out, asking his other half for something beautiful to share with this woman. Something that would give her a reason to come back to him.
To them.
The bat didn’t hesitate. Tell her this.
Mace focused as a series of images and words appeared in his mind and he translated them. Whispering them to the shivering, unresponsive woman in his arms.
“The night is beautiful,” he said. “It’s a secret place. When the world sleeps and the noise of the day fades to nothing. It’s the time when creatures like me come out to play. We dance in the air, looking for food, for company, for a mate to share the magic with. There’s color in the night. People don’t realize because they’re used to the luminous shades you see in the sun. But there are lots of subtle colors to see in the soft glow of the moonlight, too.”
Mace felt her relax into his body a fraction. It was enough to keep him talking.