Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

Eryx leads me to a dais near the place where we arrived, a portal back to the Living Realm. A waterfall of light envelops us, depositing us in utter blackness, the scent of limestone dust swirling with the smell of the angel’s cinnamon skin. I open my eyes to darkness so complete it feels like it has weight. It presses on my face. Before I can draw a breath, a dim light starts to shed light on the shadows. Eryx glows, the flesh beneath his skin illuminating the darkness. It throws light on the ancient paintings adorning the walls that surround us. I take his arm and marvel at the way the veins are visible paths of darkness over the light, tracing one with my finger to watch the light brighten beneath my touch.

“Cole calls me his glow stick,” he says.

I snort a laugh. I’m sure he does.

Eryx rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless, taking my hand and leading us from the antechamber of the Pyramid of Userkaf. “My glow stick will lead the way.”

We follow the long and narrow passage that leads to the entrance of the structure. The morning light starts to reach into the shadows, the heat of the desert creeping closer. Eryx dims until he returns to normal and we step outside just as dawn breaks on the horizon. We look around but see no one.

“Come on,” Eryx says, turning toward me with open arms in an invitation for me to grip on. “Let’s get you better.”

I give him a troubled smile in reply and press my cheek to the muscle of his angelic chest, wrapping my arms and legs around his back as he lifts us into the air. We take off over the Serapeum and I wonder how long it took my blood to dissolve in the sand, if it still stains the grains of sand where I knelt next to Ashen. Asallah libakkunu, I remember thinking, over and over as we drove into the city on our motorcycles that day. I overpower your heart.

Eryx lands us on the roof of Mr. Hassan’s building, and we descend two flights to arrive at his doorstep. When he opens the door, his face splits into a sympathetic grin that dissolves almost as quickly as it appears. Ediye and Cole appear behind him, both looking relieved as the elderly apothecary ushers us inside. After a swift introduction to Eryx, we settle in his living room as he makes a fresh pot of mint tea and one of blood for me.

“Azizati,” he says, patting my arm as he sits next to me on the green velvet settee. He pushes a mug into my hands and I relish the warm scent, spiced just right, heated to perfection and sweetened with a drop of manuka honey.

Thank you for having us here, I sign, Ediye translating the motion of my hands. I’m sorry to put you in this position.

The old man lets out a warm laugh and taps my arm to encourage me to drink. “Nonsense. I’m glad to see you again so soon.”

Funny, to him it’s only been a month or so since I was last here. To me, it feels like a century has passed. It makes me think about time, how so many years can pass feeling like not much changes from one day to the next, and then all of a sudden life is thrown upside down and back again.

I look at the apothecary and try to smile. I’m not well. I’m not able to heal like I should. I was wondering if you might be able to help.

“Yes, your friends told me everything they knew. Let me see you, tifl alshaati almashur.”

I cast a nervous glance over at Ediye and she gives a reassuring nod before I set my mug down and turn toward the old man. Mr. Hassan’s crooked fingers take mine and he examines the unhealed wounds on my hands, the cuts and scrapes and scabs on my arms. His watery eyes flow over my throat, his thumb pressing the spot where the injection of silver scraped my voice away.

He begins a quiet chant as his hand unfurls and lays gentle pressure on my neck. His words grow louder, clearer. With them a fiery pain increases in my throat, beyond the ever-present discomfort I’ve tried to become used to. It burns hotter and hotter. Sweat beads on my hairline and drips down my temples. My breath comes faster until I hold it, gritting my molars against the pain. When I can’t stand it anymore I grip the old man’s wrist and pull his hand away, shaking my head.

“Dhiaab alshaytan,” he says with a mock spit at the floor. He sighs and picks up my mug, pushing it into my hands and prompting me to drink. When I’ve had a long sip he pulls it from me and sets it on the coffee table, taking both my hands in his. My eyes dart to Ediye and she looks serious, her expression worried but contained. I can tell it takes effort. “Azizati. The silver keeps your body from healing itself. No matter how much blood you consume, it will not fix you. There is a spell there, attached to the metal itself. The only way to remove it is to dissolve the silver.”

Dissolve it… for fucksakes. That does not sound good. At alllllllll.

Nitric acid? I sign, looking at Ediye. She gives a solemn nod. There’s determination in her expression but fear in her eyes.

“We can keep the blood going into your system through a feeding tube,” she says. “The more silver we dissolve, the more you should be able to start repairing yourself, as long as you have a steady supply. We can put a tracheostomy in to keep you breathing.”

“Question. Why can’t we give her blood by IV instead?” Cole asks. Ediye turns to him slowly, her narrowed glare menacing and cold.

“Question. When you’re hungry does Eryx just put a sandwich in a fucking blender and shove it into your arm?”

Cole blinks, blanching under Ediye’s scrutinous glare. “...no…”

“Exactly.” Ediye turns back toward me, rolling her eyes with a subtle shake of her head. God, I love her. “We would have to get as much blood into you beforehand as we can to start the process. Then we can keep it going through the tube.”

“The sahira can spellcast to hasten the healing,” Mr. Hassan says, gesturing to Ediye. The lines in his face seem to deepen as his gaze anchors mine from bobbing away on the rising tide of panic. This sounds dire, and judging by the look on the old man’s face, it really fucking is. “There is nothing we can do to stop the pain you will endure if we dissolve the silver. The spell in your throat is a ward. No other magic will be able to ease that suffering.”

“Can’t you sedate her?” Eryx asks, his worried gaze bouncing between the apothecary and the witch.

“No,” Ediye replies. Her shoulders drop, her voice is quiet. “We could only put her into torpor, but that will slow her metabolism and make things even worse. Vampires are immune to any other sedation. She has to do this awake.”

Well, that’s a lot of fucking fear catching my sail. I’m nearly vibrating with the desire to bolt. Ediye rises from her chair and kneels in front of me, laying her hands on my knees. She gives me the most reassuring smile she can manage. But it’s still right there, nestled in her eyes. She’s afraid this could be goodbye.

“Hey, babe,” she says, her voice quiet.

I lift the corner of my lips in a half-assed smile.

“Listen up. You’ve got a choice. You can keep on living the way you’re living now. Basically a human. You’ll always be sick like you are at the moment. It probably won’t ever get much better. You won’t have a voice. And sooner or later, you’ll die.”

I gently pull my hands free from Mr. Hassan’s grasp.

Well, you’re a fucking ray of sunshine, aren’t you, I sign.

Ediye smirks. “I’m just keepin’ it real, babe.” She takes in a deep lungful of air and levels me with a look that says the time for jokes is over. My stomach twists, trapped in a tightening fist of nerves. “You’ve been through some pretty shitty stuff before. But you’ve always been yourself. Pure vampire. Able to heal. If we do this…”

My lip wobbles as I watch the tears shimmer in Ediye’s eyes. She looks down and gathers her resolve, squeezing my knees in a bruising grip. When she looks at me with those glassy onyx eyes my heart goes as cold as crumbling stone.

“If we do this, Lu, it’s gonna be rough. If it works, we might be able to find a way to reverse what Semyon did. There’s a good chance your condition will at least even out when your healing abilities return. But you need to know there’s just as much chance you won’t make it. If you can’t heal fast enough, you will die.”

A life as little more than a sick human, or suffering and a high probability of death for a chance at getting back who I used to be.

This is a real shits versus diarrhea situation, I sign.

Ediye gives a weak smile and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Maybe take a little time to think about it.”

I pull in a lungful of air that slips past the burn in my throat and seems to fuel the needling hum of pain in my head. I can feel the sweat sliding down my spine.

I look around the room, at Cole’s boyish face that hides so much sacrifice, to Eryx who was stripped from the Living Realm and still found a way to arrive at forgiveness and love. I look at Mr. Hassan, who pats my hand with fatherly affection like he knows it’s something I can’t remember from a childhood I’m not sure I ever had. My gaze lands on Ediye, my best friend, my ride-or-die. My soulmate. The woman who has had my back through the worst that life could hurtle at us.

If I take this chance, I might not just get back something I’ve lost. Maybe I can help make their sacrifice and suffering mean something. If I make it, maybe we really can find a way to keep the balance of the Realms. And that’s something worth fighting for.

No. I don’t need time.Let’s do it.