Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

Okay, so I naively expected it might take some time to get shit together for this procedure. I’m not sure why I’d think that, considering Mr. Hassan is an apothecary. He has things like medical grade tubing and scalpels, disinfectant and of course a shitload of potions. Nitric acid and blood are both in plentiful supply. So… yeah… there’s not much time to second-guess my decision and jump out the window to freedom.

The old man sets me down in the corner of a bedroom where he prepares his trays of items and keeps an eye on me as I suck down more blood in one sitting than I’ve had in years. Cole enters the room and Mr. Hassan starts to ask him to donate, but doesn’t even finish the question before the demon is rolling up his sleeve for me. I take his offered wrist with a nod of gratitude before the bite. His blood is smoky and sweet, but not rich like Ashen’s. There’s no hum in my veins when his arm leaves my lips.

Thank you, I whisper as he gives a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder before turning to press a facecloth to the puncture.

Cole gives a gentle smile and steps back, his interest drawn to the apothecary’s work. “Don’t mention it.”

“Try mine,” Eryx beams with a helpful smile, holding his arm out as he walks forward into the room.

“Bad idea,” Cole says.

I shake my head, agreeing with Cole.

Ediye huffs. “Ye of little faith. Give it a shot.”

Cole and I grimace at one another as Eryx holds his cinnamon-scented skin beneath my nose.

“Try it, I want to know what I taste like,” he chimes. My fangs are still coated in venom and blood when I mouth an apology to Cole through a doubtful grin. He rolls his eyes, preparing to catch his boyfriend as I bite the offered arm.

I draw in a long pull of the angel’s blood. It’s as thick as honey and ten times as sweet. I glance up at Eryx’s hopeful smile and choke down a second swallow before letting go.

“Well?..”

I try to contain my expression but Ediye cackles and I lose the battle, scraping my tongue across my teeth like a dog eating peanut butter as I attempt to rid myself of the cloying flavor.

Too sweet, I sign, taking Cole’s offered arm once more to wash down the angel syrup with something more palatable. Fucking vile is what it was.

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re just too pure for such a deplorable creature,” Cole says to his boyfriend who looks genuinely disappointed, casting a wink down at me.

“Take some of mine next,” Ediye offers, but Mr. Hassan grunts from his table of supplies.

“Keep your life force, sahira. You’re going to need every ounce of strength. Besides, we are ready to begin.”

The old man’s solemn words suck the jovial atmosphere right out of the room. As if on cue, the sweat seems to double its efforts to increase my discomfort. It’s like a parasite that refuses to let go of its host.

I let Cole’s arm go and he pulls me up by my slimy palm, directing me to a narrow bed that’s been covered with fresh linens. I unbutton my shirt then lie down on the table.

We start with the gastrostomy, Ediye numbing the left side of my abdomen with a potion that smells like antiseptic and willow bark and other random, witchy shit like feldspar and burnt reptile skin as she chants a spell in a low and focused voice. She helps to guide Mr. Hassan with the incision and placement of the tube. His hands are steady and sure, and though I smell my own blood, all I feel is pressure. Eryx keeps me distracted with stories, Cole sets up blood bags on IV stands for gravity feeding. Each person has a role to play and when I really think about that it nearly overwhelms me.

After about forty-five minutes, the tube is set up and connected to the first bag of blood. My little medical team moves to the tracheostomy next. They approach the procedure with the same focus and precision as the last one. Having them work so close to my face feels ironically suffocating given their end goal, and the fear that coats my brain like a film is climbing through my body, shaking my fingers. Every moment is another step closer. And it doesn’t take many moments at all until I’m breathing through a tube.

When the work is done, Mr. Hassan steps back and gives me a firm nod and a pat on the hand before turning his back to prepare the first in a row of glass syringes filled with nitric acid.

“Okay, babe, doing great so far,” Ediye says as she hovers over me. I tie my gaze to hers like a boat to the shore in a raging sea. My heart is knocking on my bones, roaring in my ears. Ediye gives me a smile that splits me right in two. “You fight, Lu,” she whispers, her voice fierce. “You fight and when you think you can’t, you keep fighting. I’ll be right here fighting with you.”

I try to smile. My lips quiver.

Time to suck it up and fight like a vampire. Again.

Promise, I mouth. I’m ready to pay for my word with blood. Love you.

“I love you too.”

Mr. Hassan turns to us, the syringe in his hand filled with yellow liquid. I smell the acrid scent of acid. A surgical suction machine clicks on, whispering at my left.

“Good luck, azizati. I am sorry for this pain,” he says. I give him a nod and turn my attention back to Ediye, whose eyes fill with the darkness of deep space, the mysteries of the cosmos. Galaxies and gasses and alien planets spin in the universe of her power. It is raw beauty, both terrifying and magnificent. If it’s the last thing I ever see, I think that’ll be okay.

“En alsikunusi ilimes musiti ittikunu alsi musitum kallatum kutumtum,” she says. Her voice twists around me in layers of sound. Her words spread a warmth that snakes through my veins.

I have called upon you, Gods of Night, with you I have called upon Night, the Veiled Bride.

The apothecary presses the tip of the needle into my skin. It follows the path of the curse that stole my voice.

“Alsi bararitum qablitum u namritum.”

I have called on Twilight, Midnight, and Dawn.

The apothecary meets my eyes. I see a flash of sorrow. I know in that instant he doesn’t think this will work. He thinks he’s sending me to death.

It’s ok, I whisper to him with a smile. The only sound that comes out is the breath through the tube in my throat. This is a chance I want to take, no matter if it might fail. I have little else left to lose. I fold my hand around his as he keeps the needle steady in my flesh.

“Tuub libbi tu seri liirtedaani, ema usaammaru suummiratiia luuk suud.”

May happiness and good health ever accompany her; whatever she wishes, may she attain her wish.

I keep my reassuring smile on the old man as I press my thumb down on his, depressing the first drops of acid into my throat.

For a second or two, it burns no more than it does all the time. It’s no different than the pain of the silver lodged in my throat.

But it doesn’t last.

The burn grows hotter. My breath comes faster. My heart punches my ribs in alarm.

The pain. The pain swells like a rising tide. An inescapable tsunami of suffering. It burns so blinding hot that I think even my eyes are scorched. I want to claw it out of my throat but Cole grips my arm.

My eyes stream. I fight to stop from coughing. The taste of blood creeps up on my tongue.

More acid is pushed into my throat.

Ediye keeps chanting. I don’t hear her words.

Mr. Hassan barks orders to the others. I don’t know what they are.

A suction tube slides into my mouth. More acid is plunged into my neck. I want to scream but I can’t. I want to thrash but my limbs are held down.

More acid. More blood. More pain, so hot. Like swallowing fire. Like drinking lava. The suction gurgles. I smell melting flesh.

The edges of my vision blacken in distress. I push the darkness away. Made a promise. Must keep fighting. You keep fighting, Lu.

Another syringe. More acid. How can there be more? I swear it’s burned through the surface. I hear Cole curse. Mr. Hassan snaps at him. Suction, boy.

“She’s not healing fast enough.”

“Change the blood bags.”

The pain is crushing. Desperate. I would do anything. Give anything. My life. My soul. I beg for them to stop. Mr. Hassan sees it in my eyes.

“We have to finish what we started, azizati,” he says. I dissolve into tears when the needle presses into my throat. So much worse than the silver. Like the metal doesn’t want to let me go.

The suction struggles. Something clogs the nozzle. A piece of my throat. It’s burning apart. I can’t keep up. I can’t. I can’t.

When you think you can’t, you keep fighting.

“Why is it not working?”

“Change the bags again. We have to keep going.”

“But she’ll die.”

“We have to keep going.”

I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.

I want them to stop. Just stop. Stop.

I wish there was something good. I wish there was comfort. There is only pain. There can’t be more. But there is.

A crash sounds from another room. Something breaking apart. Wood shattering.

The world goes still. Eryx lets go of my ankles and darts to the entrance of the bedroom.

The angel comes face-to-face with a furious demon.

Smoke billows across the floor. A light brightens. It comes from Eryx, his skin glowing. His wings unfurl. He blocks the Reaper from entering the room.

My eyes lock with Ashen’s over his shoulder.

An angel of light, an angel of death. It must be time for my soul to go. Someone heard my offer. They’ve come to collect.

“You’re killing her,” Ashen seethes. I think there’s desperation in his voice. And rage. He’ll burn the world. Maybe. I remember thinking that once before.

Ashen’s blade erupts with flame. I try to yell for Eryx to get out of the way. A garbled spurt of liquid sputters from my throat.

Ediye’s spell starts to change but Mr. Hassan pulls her back. “Keep her alive,” he says. He turns toward the door. “Anunnaki, let him pass.”

I can feel Cole tense beside me. I know he wants to go to Eryx. “But-”

“This is my house,” Mr. Hassan booms. “Let the Reaper pass.”

Eryx looks over his shoulder at the old man. He gives a solemn nod. He withdraws his wings enough for Ashen to get by without being cut.

“Come between us again and I will rip your wings off and feed them to my jackal, anunnaki,” Ashen growls. He knocks his shoulder into the angel as he strides into the room.

The Reaper stops beside me. He takes only a moment to survey the macabre scene. He glares down at my throat, then at Ediye. He turns his fury to the needle in Mr. Hassan’s hand. His gaze darts to the feeding tube and the bag of blood hanging from the IV stand. He looks back to Mr. Hassan with a question in the black flame of his eyes.

“Second drawer from the left,” Mr. Hassan says, nodding to a dresser. I think I hear approval in his voice. Maybe even the hint of a smile.

Ashen’s eyes narrow in determination and he turns to the drawer. He rifles through the contents until he finds whatever he’s looking for.

“What are you doing?” Cole asks.

“She needs my blood.”

Ashen drags a chair toward my bedside and sits, leaning toward me. He struggles with the sterile packaging of a butterfly needle. His hands are shaking. I’ve never seen them shake before. But I’m not sure this whole thing is real. Only pain is real. The scent of burning flesh. The wisps of acrid smoke. These are real. The Reaper might be a hallucination. I’m in agony. I’m delirious with suffering.

I hear another sound at the door and see Davina standing at the threshold. She looks around the room. Her eyes are innocent and wide. They land on Ashen and rest there.

Fucksakes. I wanted something good, not more pain. The acid feels like it’s burning through my heart.

“Eryx, get her out,” Ashen says, nodding at the door. He doesn’t look up from the work of his hands. Eryx hesitates, his gaze is tangled with Cole’s. Ashen seems to sense the inertia. The smoke and cinders of rage erupt from his wings. He lifts his unforgiving glare and pierces each of them with it. “Get. The fuck. Out.”

Eryx and Davina leave without a word. Cole stays to suction more of my throat away. Ashen connects the feeding tube to the needle. Ediye’s chants continue to fill the space between us but I see her glare at Ashen. She’s ready to send all her fury his way. He ignores her, his eyes fixed only to mine.

Mr. Hassan readies another syringe but the Reaper stops the old man’s hand. Smoke fills the space around us. Ashen’s face comes closer until he’s all I see. Those warm cognac eyes that are alight with black flame. The dark hair that falls across his brow. The muscle that ticks in his jaw as his gaze sweeps across my skin.

I should push him away. There’s already pain in every piece of me. I don’t need even more of it in my heart. But I just can’t seem to do it. I can’t.

His warm hand caresses my forehead. Sweat slicks across my skin beneath his fingertips. “All right, vampire?”

I press my eyes closed. Tears spill from their corners and he brushes them away. I remember every time he’s said those words. The fight when we met. The Shadow Realm.

I want him as much as I ever have. I need him now more than ever before. And I hate myself for it.

I smash my fist against the bed. I give him the finger. The huff of his laugh is warm on my wet skin.

“That’s my vampire. Now put that fight where it counts.”

The rich aroma of Ashen’s blood finds its way to me through all the terrifying scents that surround us when he drives the needle into his vein. I watch as he holds his arm aloft. The blood flows down the tube toward me.

The second it passes from his body into mine, I feel it. An effervescence. A hum in my veins. Like stars exploding in my belly and hope igniting in my chest.

Ashen takes my hand and I put my hurt aside. My sorrow and rage. The betrayal that burns like venom in my veins. I just want one good thing to hold onto, even if it’s only a memory.

I squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

The Reaper leans in close, his lips next to my ear and his breath warm on my skin. His face rests against mine as Mr. Hassan presses the needle into my flesh. My shoulders shake with anguish and fear.

“Stay with me, vampire,” he whispers. His words are just like acid. They dissolve all thought and reason. They bring both pain and possibility.

The apothecary presses down on the plunger and my flesh dissolves into liquid. The suffering is more than I could ever bear. The world blackens. The Reaper chants in my ear, a soft lullaby. A spell. I don’t catch every word. But do catch some. Baltu. Live. Mamitu. An oath.

I am consumed by pain and shadows. As the world fades into darkness, I think I hear something that could only be imagined. Something impossible. Something magical. Something lethal. Something a demon should never feel for a creature bound to the Living Realm.

Arammu.

Love.