Текст книги "Burning Blood"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Fifteen

HE LOOKED DEAD.

One second, two seconds, three...

He lay completely still on the table—head turned toward me, eyes closed, the rise and fall of his chest unnervingly not there.

Letting Whisper go, I ran to him—

But Roger stepped in front of me and held up his hands. “Wait.”

Whisper roared and pawed at the ground, snapping at air.

Four seconds, five seconds, six...

Bolting around Roger, the panther launched toward his unconscious master just like I wanted to do. Balancing on his hind legs, he planted both paws on Lucien’s bare chest as if he could give the Heimlich manoeuvre and bring him back to life.

Harry reeled backward, the defib paddles still in his hands.

The panther looked as if he was moments away from slaughtering everyone.

Which...if Lucien didn’t wake up, was a very high probability.

Seven seconds, eight seconds, nine...

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I stepped toward the desk—

Lucien jerked, his spine arching off the blood-soaked desk, his lips parting wide as if his soul slammed back into place.

The two doctors tried to go to him, but Whisper roared.

Lucien gasped again, deeper, harsher, dragging air into his lungs and clawing his way back to life. His fingers twitched. His eyes snapped open—wild and unfocused—before locking onto the beast looming over him.

He blinked once. Twice.

His hands came up and he smooshed the giant cat’s face. He tried to speak but coughed instead. “T-Trying to eat me...while I’m still warm, huh?” He coughed a second time, then smacked another kiss—just like he had in bed—right on Whisper’s nose.

My heart swelled until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I planted both hands over my mouth to hold back the sobs.

Did this mean everything would get better now?

Is he free?

“Fuck me that hurt,” Lucien groaned.

Whisper snorted as Lucien pushed him away and...sat upright. Slow and shaky, but with raw determination and abnormal strength. No one who’d gone through what he had should be able to sit up so quickly...should they?

Whisper dropped to all fours as Lucien pressed a trembling hand to his chest, the glint of white bandages thick and tight around his wrists, his fingers trailing over that awful thing trapping his heart.

Harry muttered something under his breath as Roger stepped gingerly toward the desk. “How are you sitting up? Lie back down. You just took a full shock.”

“Yet another sign that whatever the hell is going on around here, you most definitely are not normal.” Harry stared at Lucien as if he was a freak of nature. “You should be barely conscious, let alone upright. You should be disoriented, hypotensive, confused. Yet...you’re acting as if I just gave you a shot of coffee.”

Lucien’s lips twitched. “It was the biggest caffeine shot I’ve ever had, but...I feel fine.”

“You feel fine.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. Sure, you do. That just proves my point.”

“What point?” Lucien narrowed his eyes.

“That whatever you are isn’t like the rest of us.”

“Or my threshold is just better than other people’s.” Lucien ran his fingers over the red patches on his chest from where the defib paddles had shocked him. “I actually feel rather refreshed.”

Harry returned the paddles to the case before reaching for a stethoscope. “Stop freaking me out and let me monitor your vitals.”

Lucien shoved himself off the desk instead. “No need.”

He wasn’t clumsy or confused—his bare feet hit the decorated carpet with a dull thud, planting down like tree roots.

Both doctors froze.

“That’s...you shouldn’t—” Harry started, then stopped as Whisper stepped closer, fangs gleaming wetly in the lamplight. “You know what?” Tossing everything into his medical bag, he shook his head. “I’m done. We’ve gone above and beyond what was expected. I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” Looking down the expanse of his bandage-wrapped chest, Lucien tapped the metal disc. He waited an age for the lights to flash but they didn’t. A dark chuckle escaped him. “Did it work? It’s not flashing. Does that mean it’s dead?”

Roger finished packing his bag. “I have no idea. But...if there are none of the usual signs of it working then yes...it’s dead.”

Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. His shoulders sagged as a full-body shudder worked through him.

I’d seen this man full of murderous rage, burning temper, livid distrust, and on guard every second of every day, but...I’d never seen him like this before.

Never seen him so relieved.

His fingers pressed against those dead little lights, daring them to turn on. When they didn’t, another wave of devastating gratitude washed over his face.

I drifted forward; my gaze locked on the metal embedded in his chest.

No green or red.

Nothing flashing, nothing monitoring...

His chin shot up as he glowered at the doctors. For a second, it looked like he’d give Whisper an order to kill but then he bowed his head and said sincerely, “Thank you. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

“The only reward I want is safety for me and my family.” Roger hoisted up his bag.

“Same.” Harry slung his satchel over his body. “Forget we even exist.”

“You have my word that Marcus won’t harm you.” Lucien balled his hands. With black trousers clinging to his trim waist and white bandages covering his chest and wrists...he looked as if he’d finally stepped out of the crypt he’d been living in for so long. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“In that case...” Roger arched a chin at the door, the crow’s feet by his eyes more pronounced than before. “We’ll just get going.”

Lucien held his stare, once again seeming to hover on that line of trusting these men or ending them before they could betray him. But then his shoulders drew back and his lips quirked at the corners. “Go on then. Get out.”

Both men sucked in a breath as if they hadn’t quite believed they’d be leaving this room alive. The sounds of last-minute latches and zippers being done up on their bags braided with the thunderous rumble coming from Whisper. He seemed more on the ‘kill the witnesses instead of letting them go’ team.

Clicking his fingers, Lucien summoned the panther to his side.

I went to join him as if he’d summoned me instead. The instant I was close enough to touch him, Lucien’s heat buffeted me. Delicious, comforting warmth soaked into my bones as if he was already holding me. I couldn’t explain the way he made me feel—how just being near him made me feel so...safe.

His eyes met mine, and I desperately wanted to be alone with him.

His gaze searched mine, dark and unguarded. The air thickened as something tightened in my chest, pulling so fiercely it hurt.

He opened his mouth to say something—

“Where do you think you’re going?” a man barked. “Is he still alive?”

We froze as our attention flew to the open door where two burly guards leered in. Harry and Roger braced themselves in their blood-splattered smocks. Roger still had his hand outstretched as if he’d been the one to open the door. “Yes, he’s still alive. Which means our job is done and we’re leaving.”

The two guards looked at one another as if this went against protocol. Both were fair-skinned and obvious regular gym-goers, their biceps bulging in black t-shirts hugging muscular torsos.

Stepping into the room, the guards glanced past the two doctors. Their eyes flashed around the rearranged space—noticing bloodied towels, shoved aside furniture, and—

Lucien.

A flash of heat escaped him. With a dramatic groan, he swayed and fell.

I cried out as I caught him the best I could.

He sagged heavily in my arms, giving me most of his tall weight. I braced to collapse to the floor like we had back in Cinderkeep, but his muscles tensed, holding his own weight, only pretending to be on death’s door.

He’s...faking it.

“What’s wrong with him?” the guard with arms full of tattoos asked. “He looks like he’s about to kark it.”

“Really?” Roger turned with a gasp. “Goodness. What’s going on? He wasn’t this bad a second ago.” Clutching his medical bag, he stepped toward us. “I knew you shouldn’t have stood up so fast. Come...let me check—”

“He’s fine,” I blurted, widening my eyes and shaking my head just a little.

Don’t. Please don’t.

Lucien twitched in my hold, his arms dangling and legs at an odd angle but most of his weight braced instead of broken. I hoped to God that Roger would get the hint that Lucien only pretended to be weak as a newborn kitten and left him alone.

“He’s fine,” I repeated. “You’re right that he stood up too soon, that’s all. He just needs to rest.”

“Roger, let’s go,” Harry ordered, cottoning on far faster than his older colleague. “It’s just a case of lightheadedness. He’ll survive.” Harry grabbed him by the elbow, dragging him to the exit.

“Hang on.” The two guards blocked the threshold, their hands on their holsters. “No one is allowed to leave until Mr. Ward returns.”

“You can tell Mr. Ward that we’ve fulfilled our side of the deal,” Harry snapped. “We were assured we could go the moment our patient was stable. Well, he’s stable. And we’re tired and hungry and have families to return to. We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“Move aside.” Harry just shouldered his way out, dragging Roger with him.

The guards broke apart, granting them passage as if they weren’t entirely sure if they should.

But it was too late.

The doctors vanished without a backward glance, leaving the two guards staring at each other.

The taller, lankier one shrugged. “I suppose we just let them go?”

“I don’t remember being given orders to detain them so...I guess?” The muscular one scratched his chin. “The important thing is that Lucien Ashfall is alive.” Stepping into the room, he never took his hand off his holster. “You heard the doctors, Mr. Ashfall. You need a good sleep. Mr. Ward has gone to deal with a few things and will be back in the morning. Rest assured, there are multiple guards keeping you safe. We won’t let anyone breach the boundary so you can rest easy.”

The other guard said, “Have a good sleep, sir, and then you can go home.”

Lucien stumbled, making both of us sway.

He groaned again, loudly.

Whisper snarled as if understanding exactly what his master was doing and decided to play along too.

“Can you leave?” I snipped at the guards. “Go away.”

The taller, leaner guard raked a hand over his shaved head. “I dunno. He didn’t sound very good. Perhaps I should—”

“He’s weak and just coming out of surgery,” I snapped. “Of course he doesn’t sound good. He needs to be lying down. Get out.”

“You’re right. I’ll help you carry him to bed.” He stepped over the threshold as if intending to scoop Lucien into his arms, but Whisper snapped.

With a roar, the panther switched from house cat to slaughtering storm.

The guards leapt back.

The door slammed closed.

And the moment it shut, Lucien swooped to his full height, stalked across the room, and flicked the lock. Planting one palm against the wood, he bowed his head for a moment as if he wasn’t as strong as he looked. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sucked in a breath, and dropped his arm with a heavy exhale.

Whisper nudged his hip.

Lucien petted him distractedly as both man and beast turned to face me.

My heart skipped a beat.

Shirtless, his shredded abdominals flexed every time he breathed. The thick bandage over the dagger wound offered a morbid symmetry to the no-longer-operational piece of metal over his heart. And the bandages around his wrists were a damn sight better than the silver cuffs that used to bleed him every three days.

“You put on that little show to make them believe you won’t be up for any escaping tonight, didn’t you? You want them to lower their guard so you can sneak out easily.”

He just stood there—chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths, his eyes diving into mine.

My knees threatened to buckle beneath the weight of his stare.

The room tightened, air sparked, and the longer we stared at each other, the more I tripped into him.

Into all those feelings from before.

Into all that heat and tension and—

He pushed off from the door.

He came toward me, one careful step at a time.

I sucked in a breath at how breathtakingly gorgeous he was but he was also dangerous and scary and no longer restrained.

Which was a horrifying, terrifying thing.

“W-What are you doing?” My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

He didn’t stop until he was close enough to bow from his tall height and press his forehead to mine.

I froze as stinging, sizzling connection erupted between us. He sucked in a breath as he cupped my cheek, walking me backward as if he fought both good and bad, evil and innocent.

I bit my bottom lip as my spine hit the wall. “Shouldn’t we be plotting our escape...”

“Probably,” he purred. “But don’t worry. I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

“I just needed you to get me out of Cinderkeep. I’ll handle the rest.”

“You’ll handle it?” My eyes popped wide. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But—”

“Thank you for being willing to kill me.” His nose brushed mine as his voice barely rose above a roughened whisper. “And thank you for doing such a bad job at it that I’m still alive.”

I coughed a little laugh, not expecting his thanks or for him to crack a joke.

I couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle my nose against his, flooding with yet more heat and need and longing. We could delay running for a couple of minutes, couldn’t we? “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

He just nodded.

Did that mean he was okay or was he in pain? How much pain? How long before he finally managed to live without pain?

Pressing his entire body against me, his hand slid into my long, rain-crinkled hair.

I gulped and licked my lips, melting on the spot. “What-What are you doing?”

He paused as if battling with himself, but then his eyes flashed with black determination. “I need to know if it’s really dead.”

Before I could ask what he meant, his mouth crashed on mine in a wicked kiss.

His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back just enough to deepen, to take, to test.

He used me.

Completely broke me as he hurled me into all those feelings I’d done my best to ignore.

His mouth opened wider as the kiss turned reckless and cruel.

My spine bruised against the wall. His hips pressed against my belly, revealing how quickly he went from healing to hard. His tongue grew rougher, deeper—like he was daring himself to lose control. Pushing himself to the threshold that always knocked him out.

His tongue hunted mine.

I licked him back—

He snapped.

Slamming me against the wall, he held me prisoner as he kissed me like I was the only thing he ever wanted and the only thing he truly feared.

Fiercely. Violently.

I clung to him, begging him to give me air all while he stole it.

“Fuck...” He groaned, feeding me his voice, his hunger.

My pulse roared in my ears as my heart erupted, fissures of frost cut straight through my veins, doing its best to put out the fire Lucien conjured. I didn’t know if it was the dregs of the pill he’d given me or something else, but my broken system struggled to tell what was lust or stress, crushing me with sudden pain.

I turned dizzy.

He kissed me harder, his hands tightening in my hair.

His bandaged chest crushed mine, feeding me the rhythm of his own heart. It hammered through his ribs, wild and unrestrained.

Faster. Harder. Louder.

He seized my wrist, slamming my palm against his chest—right over the vitalsync core. His thigh wedged between my legs, rocking against the part of me that needed, needed, needed.

Grinding his hardness against my belly, he drove me utterly insane.

Was this the moment?

Was he planning on stealing my virginity minutes after being electrocuted?

“Lucien...”

He swallowed my voice, nipping at my bottom lip.

The sharp bite of teeth. The hot heat of his mouth—

Something surged inside me like a sharp winter tide, full of icebergs and snowflakes, cutting straight through the fever in my blood. Instinct had me reaching for it. To wrap myself in the crystal coolness while Lucien burned me alive.

For one impossible second, the world felt fragile. Like I could freeze it, shatter it, and send it splintering into shards. Entire glaciers frosted around my bones. Snow blanketed me like a cape.

I wasn’t cold.

I was the cold—

But then...PAIN.

The chill turned against me, hollowing me out as it rebounded with raw, excruciating agony.

I cried out as Lucien suddenly jerked against me.

A hiss tore from his throat as if he’d felt my misery but then smoke...

The acrid scent of smoke tainted our kiss.

I tried to see.

To stop.

But he didn’t stop.

He went feral.

His lips captured mine so hard, so rough, he drew blood.

His body burned against mine and not metaphorically. It was like being pressed against a living star. A pyre. A cremation—

A gasp tore from my throat as more smoke billowed. “Lucien. Wait—”

He tore his mouth from mine, breaking the kiss with a sharp, ragged breath.

His eyes were wild and unapologetic, seeing everything and nothing. He stumbled as if I’d stopped his heart, backing away from me in horror.

I wobbled against the wall, my entire body tingling. For one terrifying second, I saw exactly what kind of man he could become without being chained by pain. What sort of nightmare he could be without his leash—

But then, my jaw dropped.

I wanted to rub my eyes because...it’s not possible.

Heatwaves contorted the air above his shoulders. Actual steam rolled off his bare skin with pale wisps.

His jaw clenched so hard, the tendons in his neck stood out. His already dark eyes were pitch black as he struggled to breathe, locking onto the wall behind me.

Staggering backward, his hand planted right over the metal disc. Between his fingers, no lights glowed. No red illumination to hint he was about to be punished.

So why was he so afraid?

I followed his stare and almost dropped to my knees.

A single strip of wallpaper had ignited with hungry flames—the edges curling and charring—the silvery flower pattern engulfed as the fire continued to climb toward the ceiling.

How?!

With a savage curse, Lucien lurched toward the bathroom. Whisper streaked after him, keeping pace as Lucien returned with the glass bowl that used to hold tiny toiletries for guests, now full to the brim with water.

Throwing it at the burning wall, the flames hissed and spat as liquid splashed everything—including me.

Only once the sizzle had ceased did Lucien lower the bowl and glance at the pacemaker still embedded in his heart. “I kissed you to test if it was truly broken...” His chin tipped up, his eyes tight with questions. “I thought my burning came from that.” His hand rose to claw at the device. “I thought all my pain originated from this fucking thing but...” He looked at the dripping wall. “What if it wasn’t?”

A migraine shoved sharp daggers in my skull.

I wanted to help him.

To think about this logically.

There had to be a realistic answer for what’d just happened.

Perhaps one of the sockets caught fire? Maybe there was some exposed wiring? There had to be an explanation, but the longer we stood there, the more reluctant we were to speak.

My migraine grew worse the longer Lucien glowered as if all of this was my fault. With a groan, he backed up, dropped the bowl onto the couch, and raked both hands through his glossy black hair.

He looked on the verge of breaking.

He shook his head in denial.

His gaze landed on the fire-damaged wall again. “I...I need a shower.”

He fled.

Chapter Sixteen

THE BATHROOM DOOR SLAMMED BEHIND HIM.

A second later, the shower roared to life.

A tremor worked through me as I wrapped my arms around myself.

I couldn’t stop staring at the wall.

At the burned strip of wallpaper that’d turned into a physical scar. A wound that couldn’t be hidden—a blaringly obvious sign that Lucien had—

He can’t have.

It has to be a socket or wire.

It has to be.

Gritting my teeth, I staggered forward and ran my fingers over the still dripping, now very sooty wall. I searched for a malfunctioning electrical unit. I looked behind the luggage bench. I ducked to check the skirting boards. And...nothing. No light switches, no sockets, no hints that this was exactly what it looked like: Lucien Ashfall burned so hot while kissing me, he made the wall catch fire.

Oh God.

My heart tried to take a running leap out of my chest.

Don’t be ridiculous.

He was human. He was as real as me. Just because I couldn’t see a logical explanation, didn’t mean one didn’t exist.

And if there isn’t one?

Another full-body tremble had me shaking in panic.

He’s always been different.

Always been more.

From the very first moment I’d met him in that ballroom, he’d felt otherworldly—chained and restrained with a power clawing at his veins to get out.

What if it’d gotten out?

What if—

Whisper nudged me, interrupting my spiral. He pressed his massive head into my side, his golden eyes soft with sympathy.

“Did you know about him?” I asked quietly, ruffling his ear. “Was it him? Did he burn so hot he made the wall catch fire?”

The panther sighed heavily and pulled out of my grasp. Padding toward the locked exit, he scratched at it with a whimper.

Damn.

Did he need to go out?

Did the house-trained panther need to pee?

“Eh...” I went to him, my brain fixating on this new problem, almost as if it wasn’t ready to fixate on the one caused by Lucien.

“I don’t think they’ll let you out, tiny cat. And I don’t think I’m prepared to ask them to. What if they take it as an opportunity to shoot you? What if you’re caught and they take you away?” I shuddered at how Lucien would react. “I’m not willing to take the risk.”

Turning to face the bathroom and the still raining shower, I added, “Just wait until he’s finished and then you can pee anywhere you want in there. I’ll clean up after you, okay?”

Whisper snorted as if I’d suggested he cock a leg in public.

“I’m sorry, alright?” I spread my hands in surrender. “There’s not much else I can do right now.”

The poor panther sneezed in disgust and went to sulk by the only window.

Fresh pain throbbed behind my eyes, sharp and relentless, climbing into dangerous territory.

I need air.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

Couldn’t exist in this limbo anymore.

I need out!

Panic wound tighter and tighter in my chest.

Tomorrow we would be thrown back into Cinderkeep if we didn’t run.

My aching eyes shot to the old-fashioned cuckoo clock on the wall.

10:37 p.m.

Marcus would return in the morning.

We need to go!

My gaze dropped to the blood-soaked towels on the desk.

If Marcus found out that Lucien had removed the cuffs and fried the vitalsync core. If he knew what he’d done to the wall—

Panic.

Panic over what almost happened, what had happened, and what would happen.

Panic over what Lucien was. Not who. What.

My throat tightened as my attempt at not thinking about it unravelled.

People didn’t burn the way he did. People didn’t have blood that could heal—

Stop it.

What if Marcus had always known what Lucien was and used pain to keep him in line?

What if Lucien hadn’t just gotten free but made everything a thousand times worse?

The room faded in and out as black spots crowded my vision.

A queasy wave of vertigo played havoc with my balance, and I tripped to the closest thing that could save me.

Landing heavily on the luggage bench by the door, I tipped forward and clutched my raindrop pendant. My fingers wrapped around the cool crystal, begging it to actually work for the first time in my life and take away my pain.

With a groan, I slid sideways as faintness tried to drag me down.

My head fell on my still-damp rucksack. My cheek pressed against the zipper and something small and brick-like answered back.

My eyes popped wide.

Jerking upright, I tore open the front pocket where my phone rested. Out of battery and fast asleep but helpfully cuddled up next to its charger ready to be useful. Relief blanketed me.

How could I be so stupid?!

Dillon.

Dillon can help!

My long-suffering bodyguard who’d probably had an aneurysm looking for me for the past seven weeks.

Snatching the charger and phone, I went to launch upright but another small bulge in the side pocket had me freezing.

My stomach turned.

Slipping my hand into the bag, I pulled out the vial of Lucien’s blood that he’d given me this morning—just before demanding I kill him.

I swallowed hard at the thought of drinking cold, coagulated blood.

In any other circumstances, there would be no way. On any other day or in any other nightmare, I would toss it out the window and forget I’d ever been in the slightest bit tempted but...

He’d set the wall on fire.

I was moments away from blacking out yet again.

I couldn’t afford to be a burden and...we had to run.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” I grimaced as I unscrewed the stopper and fought the urge to gag. His blood had darkened, settling thick at the bottom like oil instead of liquid.

Would it still work?

Did it still have the power to take away my discomfort, even if it wasn’t fresh out of his veins?

Do you hear yourself?

My spine snapped straight because...all those moments he’d cured me with his life-force. All those times he’d made me drink straight from him—that should’ve been the first warning sign that he wasn’t...human.

I choked—

Whisper padded toward me, smelling Lucien’s blood.

I tensed as the huge predator towered over me, his nose pressing against the vial before glaring at me with questions.

“H-He gave it to me,” I stuttered. “For emergencies. And I think...” I gulped as I clutched the cold vial with two hands. “This qualifies as an emergency.”

He snorted as I looked toward the bathroom.

The shower continued to fall.

I didn’t give myself time to think.

With a gasp, I jerked the vial to my lips and upended it.

The blood hit my tongue. Thick and cold, slick and syrupy. I gagged as it slid down my throat. It tasted of iron and ash, bitter and strangely alive, leaving a faint burn in its wake.

My system tried to evict it.

My stomach hurt and my temples throbbed and I hugged myself as I tipped over my knees, trying to think about anything else. Flowers and butterflies, summer storms and snow bunnies. Anything apart from oily, icy blood.

Unfolding, I kept my teeth clenched tight against my body’s urge to retch and snatched my phone again. Needing the distraction, I forced my legs to move and headed toward the bed and the socket above the side table. With shaky hands, I plugged it in, attached it to my phone, and turned it on.

It took an age to reboot.

A century to come reluctantly alive.

And every minute that I waited was a minute that Lucien’s blood worked its magic.

It started subtly...a soft soothing behind my eyes, an easing of the pressure in my head.

As my screen flared bright and mobile data connected, my muscles steadied as strength flooded my veins, humming and potent, like I’d been the one plugged in instead.

Messages and notifications came flying in, making my phone jump and jive.

I dismissed them as fast as I could, unable to keep up as the network kept delivering.

Frank: Hey, hey. When are you coming back? We have spas here too, you know.

Frank: Rook, this isn’t funny anymore. Where are you?

Frank: Call me. Urgently.

Frank: ELARA SNOWFLAKE, ANSWER YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW!

I scowled.

He actually went there.

He used my corporate world pseudonym when he knew how much I hated it.

Dillon’s messages crowded over Frank’s. Messages that were far, far worse.

Dillon: Give me your status or I’ll hack your phone and turn on your location.

Dillon: Frank is freaking the fuck out. Give me your location. Right now.

Dillon: Give me an update, Rook. NOW.

Dillon: I’m in England. Call me.

Dillon: Respond. This is your final warning.

Dillon: You didn’t respond. I’m now fully authorised to use whatever means necessary to find you.

I gulped.

Frank would never call the police on me—even if I went missing for a year—but only because that would shine far too much attention on Snowflake Corp and all the things we definitely shouldn’t be tampering with.

But Dillon...he was just as ruthless as Lucien when he put his mind to something.

I gasped as my phone suddenly gave up delivering messages and flashed with an incoming call instead.

From Dillon.