Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [81]
I moved back from both of them, bumping up against the island hard enough that the dishes rattled in the cabinets.
“Anita.” Micah’s voice. He was at the end of the island looking at me with his serious kitty-cat eyes.
I couldn’t seem to get a deep enough breath. It was as if the room was getting smaller. Nathaniel was in front of me, and either side of the island was blocked by the other two. I felt cornered, trapped in so many ways.
“Boys,” Dr. Lillian said, “I think Anita needs a little air.”
“I can’t leave Damian alone,” I said, but my voice sounded choked.
She came and moved them all away from me, shooing them back. “Come on, a little fresh air and some open spaces, doctor’s orders.” She held out her hand to me, but was careful not to touch me, as if she knew what I was feeling better than I did. She eased me to the drapes and pushed me through them onto the open deck.
The light was dazzling, and I was blind with it for a moment. When I could see again, she was as far away as the wraparound deck would allow her to be and still be on it. She didn’t say anything, just looked out at the view.
I started to say something, then thought, Fuck it, she’s right. I went to the rail and looked out at the trees. The trees were a kaleidoscope of color. The wind stirred all that gold and orange, and a cascade of leaves like an upturned bag of gold showered down around me. The sky was that flawless blue that only happens here in October, as if the sky were closer, fresher, newly minted blue, as if all the clear skies until now had been practice for these few weeks of blue, blue sky. I breathed in the heavy gold of the sun, like pale syrup on the leaves. It smelled like autumn, that crisp, clean, sharp smell, that is made up of dying leaves, chill nights, and the warm breath of the day before night falls. You could taste fall on your tongue like some kind of bread or cake, something thick and nutty and sweet. I took in as much air as I could and let it out slow, as if my body didn’t want to let it go.
I stood there leaning on the railing, drinking in the sunlight, the colors, and the rich scent of autumn woods. I was smiling and calm all on my own by the time Dr. Lillian spoke. She stayed on her end of the deck, as if she wasn’t sure how much room I needed. “Feel better?”
“Yes,” and I smiled at her, though I felt a little embarrassed. “Sorry that I lost it in there.”
“You’ve had some big changes in a very short space of time, Anita.”
“How much do you know?”
“That you’ve somehow tied yourself to Damian and Nathaniel, somewhat the way that Jean-Claude tied you and Richard to him. That you did it by accident. That it’s a miracle no one’s dead.”
I sighed, and the smile was gone. “Yeah, I could have handled it better.”
“No one could handle all that you handle, Anita, better or worse. You keep surprising all of us.”
“Us, who?” I asked.
She smiled. “All of us, the shapeshifters, the vampires, all of us. I can’t really speak for everybody, but I know you are a constant amazement to the wererats. We never know what you’re going to do next.” She leaned against the rail with her arms crossed over her clean white shirt.
“Neither do I, not anymore.”
“That loss of control issue again, isn’t it?”
“You know, I really don’t want to psychoanalyze myself right now.”
“Fine,” she raised her hands as if to show she was unarmed, “but the next time you start getting claustrophobic, and you need some air, get some air, okay?”
“It was that obvious?” I asked.
“If I say yes, you won’t like it, because you hate for anyone to be able to read you. If I say no, I’d be lying, and you hate that, too.”
“I’m just impossible to get along with, aren’t I?”
“Not impossible, but not exactly easy either.” She gave a small laugh to soften it, and said, “Do you feel up to going back inside?”
I took another deep breath and nodded. “Sure.”
She nodded, too. “Good, be careful when you move the drapes. Don’t want to flash too much of this beautiful sun onto Damian.”
I nodded and felt the good air leaving me. Before I stepped back through