Ten shook his head, so Caden decided he wasn’t willing to argue. If the freaky boy wanted to believe it was real, who was he to disagree?
“Did you want some water?”
Ten turned and looked at him. “There’s juice in your refrigerator. Top shelf, left side, behind the soy milk.”
“No, I don’t have anything.”
Ten sighed, got up, walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He rummaged around for a minute, then stood up, a bottle of orange juice in his hand. He opened the cabinet to the right of the refrigerator, took out two glasses, poured the juice, then put the bottle away before he went and handed one to Caden before he sat and chugged the other.
Caden could only stare at his visitor.
“This is good juice. You should drink it. Your body needs the energy.”
So many questions flitted through Caden’s mind, but he went with the most pressing one. “How the hel—eck did you get in here?”
Ten gave Caden a curious glance. “I asked the door to let me in.”
Right, of course. “Do you think the door would let me out?”
Ten turned his gaze on the door, cocked his head, and then looked back to Caden. “It says it’s not allowed.”
“It says it’s not allowed….” Man, this place was a funny farm. A lycan, a kid who talked with doors, and bruises that healed faster than they should. What the hell kind of place had he been dragged into, and why wasn’t he more freaked out about it?
“But it also says it doesn’t think it’s fair. It says you seem nice, and it wishes it could help, but it only follows orders.”
“And yet it let you in….” Caden couldn’t believe he was having such a surreal conversation.
“Sure. I asked nicely.” He pointed at the juice. “Are you going to drink that?”
“Uh, no.”
“Okay.” He bent over and retrieved the glass, then sat back and sucked down the contents.
“So you can talk to doors.” It sounded insane the minute he said it.
“I can talk with most things. They like it when I talk to them, because they’re very lonely. Of course, they have to have been alive at some point. I can’t talk to, say, this glass or anything.”
“No, silly me. Why would I think you can talk to glass if you can talk to a door? What the he…” Caden stopped himself, not wanting to swear in front of a kid. “What were you doing in my room?”
Ten’s gaze dropped. “Your dreams were hurting me.”
“You said that before, but how could my dreams hurt you?”
“I work here in Sanctuary with the doctors to deal with patients have bad memories. I can’t get rid of them, but I help people lose the pain associated with them. I’ve been working with you since you got here last night.”
“Working with me how?”
Ten’s face scrunched up. “I’m not sure how I can explain it. I pulled the memories out so they stopped having power over you. When I met you, your psyche was torn apart. Too many bad things had happened to you. I took them, rolled them into a ball, and put them in a box, then locked it away in your mind. They’re still there—you’ll remember them, but eventually they won’t be as bad. When that day comes, the box will dissolve and you’ll have them back.”
Caden wondered why he’d been so calm. He didn’t even believe in the supernatural—not like Kieran—but the kid and the things he knew was living proof.
“While you were sleeping, I also told you some stuff about us so you wouldn’t be afraid. It’s why Mr. Martin doesn’t make you afraid.”
No, he pissed Caden off was what he did.
“I can stop if you want. I’m sorry if I scared you, but the pain was unbearable. I thought I had it under control, but it looks like you need more help.” He leaned forward and touched Caden’s temple with his right hand. “I can try again, if you want.”
It wasn’t even something Caden needed to entertain. The dream had been bad enough for him, but to have it causing Ten pain? No, that wouldn’t do at all. And if Ten somehow kept it from morphing into crippling fear, he’d take what help he could get.
“Yes, please.”
“Good. It’s easier when you’re awake. Then they’re not the fragments of memories I see in dreams.” Ten smiled as he stood up, then reached out and put his left hand on Caden’s other temple. As he watched, Ten’s silvery eyes rolled back in his head. Caden’s face warmed, like he was sitting out in the sun.
The images flashed through his mind again, but as quickly as they appeared, they were whisked away.
“Ten….”
The warmth grew, becoming almost uncomfortable. Caden wanted to pull away, but the residual fear of the dream diminished, becoming a vague unease and then nothing but a distant memory.
When the heat became unbearable, Ten stumbled away, his skin chalk-white. Caden reached out to help him, but Ten brushed him away.
“No, don’t touch me. It’s too soon.”
“What do you mean?”
Ten collapsed onto the couch, his body rigid. “I need to purge the memories first. I can’t be touched until I get rid of them. I should go.” He got up, swaying as he stood.
“Sit down, Ten,” Caden growled.
“But—”
“Sit. Down. Now.”
Ten didn’t sit, he collapsed, dropping back onto the sofa, his head lolling from side to side.
“You had so much pain. I never tried to help anyone like you before. I’m sorry I couldn’t take it all away.”
This boy, this child, was apologizing because Caden had been brutalized and he couldn’t help him get over it. Ridiculous. Caden went to the chair, careful not to touch Ten, knelt down, and spoke softly as to allow him to rest.
“Thank you for what you did. If I’m honest, I shouldn’t have survived, and knowing what happened, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to. You literally gave me my life back, so I can’t tell you how grateful I am. What can I do for you?”
“Some juice would help” was the whispered reply.
“Anything you need.” Caden stood, went to the refrigerator, and grabbed the whole container. He snapped off the lid and brought it back to Ten, who took it with a shaky hand. He held it to his mouth, his throat working as he drained what was left in the bottle. It fell from his grip as Ten’s eyes shut.
“Is there anyone I should call? Your parents?”
“Both dead. Everyone in Sanctuary takes care of me.” He groaned. “Maybe you should call Mr. Martin. I don’t feel well.”
“I don’t have a phone.” He scanned the room and saw a phone, but he didn’t have the number. He looked at Ten, who seemed even more pale than he had a few moments earlier. Desperate, Caden rushed to the door and slammed his palm on it. “I need help! Ten is sick. Where’s Quade?”
The lock clicked and the door opened wide. There wasn’t anyone on the other side, and Caden wondered briefly if the door had let him out because of Ten. Caden hurried into the hall, looking around wildly. He needed to find someone who could help Ten. He started pounding on other doors, hoping to hell people lived there. On the fifth one, the door opened and a disheveled looking Quade peered out, his dark hair stuck to his head.