Chapter 7 - Byron

When I walk into the medical bay, Olivia is laid out on a cot, her eyes closed, her arms at her sides. I hate how my breath catches in my throat when I see her, but, luckily, nobody is looking at me.

She's dressed for the event—wearing a skin-tight dress, her makeup done, that dark brown wig on her head. I notice her heels sitting at the end of the cot, and wonder who took them off for her.

"—ran all her vitals, they're completely normal," Maisie is saying. "I can do an MRI, but I'm not sure what we'll find. I don't know if she's—"

"It's a curse," I say, crossing my arms and walking into the room. I glance at Bigby and Rafael, who are standing against the wall. "It would have got me, too."

"You were monitoring the mission?" Bigby asks, raising an eyebrow at me. "Does Aris know?"

"Yeah," I say, narrowing my eyes at him and trying not to let my anger get the best of me. I'm pissed all the time lately, and Bigby may be annoying me right now, but he doesn't deserve full-on anger. "And we're all pretty lucky I was, or she wouldn't be here right now. She'd be wherever the hell that guy was going to take her."

"Fair," Bigby says, after holding my gaze for a moment. He takes a deep breath, then shrugs and turns back to Olivia, who looks like she's only napping and could wake up any moment. "A curse?"

"Yeah. As soon as the guy started saying it, I took my headphones off."

"What guy?" Percy asks as he walks into the room. It's just like him to enter mid-conversation and pick up without hesitation. "Do you know who it was that said the curse?"

"No, he was obscured by the door frame. But it was the mayor who was trying to get her out of the building."

"That's weird, that a politician would risk doing it themselves," Bigby muses, his hand to his chin. "Why not just have someone else do it for you?"

"Yeah," Percy says, "most politicians we've met on our missions send other people to fetch their drinks. Hard to imagine them taking matters into their own hands."

"But if he was trying to kidnap her, does that mean we think this is our guy?" Rafael asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. His long, brown hair is tied into a knot on top of his head, and the scar running through his left eyebrow shimmers faintly in the light. "The one connected to the vampires and moving all this money on their behalf?"

"No," Percy says, shaking his head, "it couldn't be him—the person we're looking for would have been in attendance at all of the events. They're @BatStoker online, and we're pretty sure their posts are spiking the vampire activity. They've posted about every event. Posted pictures—just never of themselves."

"Are you sure it's a person you're looking for?" Rafael asks, tilting his head. "Do we have any idea what paranormal status we're looking at? Shifter? Vamp?"

"We'd assume vamp," I say, anger spiking inside me. Of course it's a vampire—they tend to be the root of most problems. "Based on how the vampire activity spikes when they're in town."

"But why would they try to take Olivia?" Bigby asks, pulling a marble from his pocket and rolling it between his fingers. "And what was it that compromised her identity?"

"Why must everything with you guys happen so late?" Triste asks, startling everyone as she pushes into the room in her pajamas.

"It's only eleven," Maisie laughs, glancing at the clock as though she can't be sure she remembers the time correctly. When I look closer at her, I see bags under her eyes, and her full figure slumps slightly. The poor girl hasn't gotten a break since she started working as the pack nurse. I think back to the night we brought Percy in here, steeped in the serum. How Maisie and Rosa had worked tirelessly to cure him. Since then, it's been fighting and wars and trying to find antidotes. When this mess with the vampires is over, Maisie needs a vacation.

I look around the room, noting that everyone looks tired, and wary. Maybe we all need a vacation.

"And I've been in bed for hours," Triste sighs, pulling me out of my thoughts as she rubs a hand on her forehead. She takes a deep breath, then comes to Olivia's bedside, setting her hands lightly on the bed. After a moment, she starts pulling out little bottles and setting them on a medical tray. "Aris said it's a curse?"

"Yes, I heard it myself," I say, meeting her eyes. Anything to keep myself from staring at Olivia. "Through my headphones."

For the second time since walking in, I have to stand and wait while everyone processes the fact that I was watching Olivia during her mission tonight. I clench my jaw, daring any of them to say something about it.

I was just protecting a member of the team. I've told Aris time and time again that we need to up our tech team, improve our capabilities. We need more people who know what they're doing, and we need to incorporate surveillance into each mission.

It's invaluable to have someone protecting you. Someone who isn't present, who's safe from the current threat, and can manipulate your surroundings.

Maybe this will finally convince him. Or, maybe he'll tear my head off for defying him in front of everyone.

"Do you remember any part of it?" Triste asks, that odd lilt to her voice as she stares at me. I hate the way she raises her eyebrows; her eyes are so serious and deep that it feels like they're boring into my soul.

"No," I say, shaking my head, hands starting to shake at the thought of what might have happened if I'd been cursed, too. At this moment, Olivia could be anywhere. With anyone. "I took my headphones off as soon as I heard the start of it."

"Damn," Bigby says, shaking his head and staring down at the little marble in his hand. "I guess the commanders training on curses actually came in handy. Sucks that he turned out to be a total dick, huh?"

"Who is the commander ?" Rafael asks, looking around the room, confusion clearly on his face.

"The commander," Aris says, breezing into the room, "was our old contact at the Agency. I'm the Alpha of this team, and have been since it was formed, but the commander directed our activity. Communicating information. He gave us the goals, and I determined how we would reach them. We all trusted him with our lives, and he betrayed us. He's part of the reason Percy was hit with the serum. He's part of the reason why Varun was developing one in the first place. One of my other contacts at the agency reported that he ran the moment details about his activity came out."

"That doesn't surprise me," Percy says, barely contained anger and grief thick in his tone. "Someone like that would run, rather than facing up to what they've done."

Aris meets my eyes, and I can see there that he plans to chat with me later about my unsanctioned surveillance of Olivia's mission. I give him a little nod, clenching my jaw.

I don't care if he's pissed at me. I'm the only reason Olivia is alive right now.

"I'm surprised anyone continues to use curses," Triste says, clearly not listening to our conversation. She has one hand over Olivia's forehead. Triste's palm is glowing with a faint white light, and she has her other hand to her chin. After a moment, she drops her hand to her side, shakes it out, and continues staring at Olivia thoughtfully. "They're so unpredictable. So many factors to contend with, including the state of the person you're cursing, and whether they hear all the words or not."

"So, what are you going to do?" I ask, eyes darting between Olivia and her.

"Well," she says, clearing her throat and holding her hands out to the side. "I don't even know where to start without hearing the curse."

"You can't hear the curse," I mutter, "or you'll fall asleep, too."

"That's a good point. But I need to know the words used in order to strategize."

"Give me one second," I say, pulling out my laptop. I click over to my cloud storage and find the footage from tonight. Realizing the audio is separate, it takes me a moment to locate it, but when I do, I run it through software that provides a transcript for the audio, all while keeping my laptop firmly on mute, just in case.

Then, I have it.

"Here," I say, showing Triste the laptop. She comes over eagerly, her eyes widening when she sees the words on the screen.

Numina divom accerso. Damnant te dormire. Somno aeterno, nuptae, perduint te.

"I see," Triste says, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. "This is an ancient curse. Powerful and based in blood magic."

Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time tonight, a real shot of fear courses through me. Over the years, working with this team, we've overcome so many obstacles that I've started to just assume that we can handle whatever comes our way. That no matter what happens, we'll be okay.

Even Percy turned out okay.

But now, looking at Triste and the expression she wears, it dawns on me that there may actually be nothing we can do to save Olivia, and the thought of that makes me feel like I'm melting. Malfunctioning. A bug I'll never be able to find in my code.

"There must be something we can do," I say, not missing how choked my voice sounds, or how everyone in the room is looking at me, pity on their faces.

"There…is," Triste says, finally, nodding and rolling her lips into her mouth. "But you are not going to like it."

"Alright," Aris says, "if you are not unconscious, here to help, or Byron, get out. Go back to your families."

"You got it," Percy says, turning on his heel.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Bigby says, clapping me on the shoulder before he goes.

Everyone clears from the room until it's just me, Maisie, Aris, and Triste standing around Olivia's cot.

"There is a ritual we can perform to wake Olivia from her sleep," Triste says, clearing her throat. "But due to the nature of the curse, she will not survive if she has a mate, and is not blood-bound to that individual."

Aris's face goes pale. It feels like my stomach is full of rocks.

What the fuck is it with this pack and blood bonding? Growing up, we were taught that it was an ancient practice, practically extinct, akin to arranged marriages or royals having babies with their cousins.

And now, here we are, two pairs in our pack already blood bonded.

I stare at Olivia, heart skipping in my chest. When I bring my fist to the spot and start rubbing it, Maisie looks alarmed.

"Your heart?" she whispers, and I nod, then shake my head, eyes darting up to meet hers.

"It's fine," I gasp, putting a hand to my head. Then, looking at Triste, I say, "You're sure? It's the only way?"

"As sure as I can be," she says, nodding. "I could travel to Europe, spend a few days reading through ancient tomes in Rome, pray there's something hidden there to undo this in a different way, but I have no idea how she's reacting to the curse, and no idea how long she has been in this state. It could be forever; it could be ten minutes. It all depends on what's going on inside her head."

"What do you mean?"

"When a curse sends you under like this, it's not like a normal medical comatose state. It's more akin to purgatory. Right now, she could be reliving all of her best childhood moments or going through nightmare after nightmare. Whatever is happening to her right now, and how strong she is against it, will affect how long she can hold on."

Immediately after Triste finishes her sentence, we all watch Olivia's brow wrinkle, and something like a sob comes from her mouth.

"I'll do it," I say, quietly, knowing everyone in this room already knows the truth. It's no great secret that Olivia and I are mates—the only thing people don't know is why we aren't together.

I don't want a mate, don't want a family. I know that if I go through with this blood-bonding ritual, it will tie Olivia even closer to me. My heart squeezes, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

More than anything, she wants a big family. Lots of kids running around. Sunday mornings with pancakes and the whole thing.

But I can't give that to her. The thought of having kids makes me physically ill, makes my heart speed up, twisting, pain rippling through my chest. But the thought of Olivia dying is even worse.

I hold my hand out over her cot. Triste, without ceremony, grabs my wrist and slices my palm through with her knife, then does the same to Olivia, before joining our hands together and whispering a few words under her breath.

When it's done, I gasp and step back, and Maisie is there, wrapping my hand with a bandage. I expect to feel sick, to feel worse than I did a moment ago, but inside, it's like a storm has finally started to abate, a hurricane turning to a drizzle, my heart finally relaxing and taking a breath.

"Okay," Triste says, wiping her hands on her palms. "Now that's done, I need a few things to complete the ritual."

***

"I am so sorry to bother you," Aris says, clearing his throat. He's on the phone with a local spiritual, who is not happy at being interrupted from their party. I stare straight ahead, holding a box with various supplies.

In the box are hemlock and wormwood. Ado and Rafael are collecting the rabbit teeth and bark from a very specific tree. The final thing we need is a blessed blade, which Aris is trying to obtain.

"…yes, of course, I could compensate you very well. Okay, perfect! Perfect. Yes, I can meet you. Ten minutes."

Aris ends his call and jams his phone into his pocket.

"Okay," he says, breathing out and running a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go meet with the spiritual; you head back to Triste and double-check that we have everything."

It takes me ten minutes to get back to the pack center, where I find Triste and Maisie working Olivia over. She's crying now, her eyes still shut, but tears running down the sides of her face, smudging her makeup.

"I should teach her how to use a spell," Triste says thoughtfully, "magical makeup never runs."

"Here," I say, setting the box with the plants down just as Ado and Rafael appear.

"Rabbit teeth," Rafael says, "not fun to acquire."

"You love hunting rabbits," Triste says, dismissively, "You're a wolf."

"But I'm also a man, and I'm not sure I can ever enjoy a good rabbit stew again after that. I might actually need to become a vegetarian."

"And you are also a vampire," Triste says, turning to him, her eyes sharp. "So, one would think you had a stronger stomach than that."

Rafael rolls his eyes at her, and I clench my jaw. It's taken a lot of time to get used to the "vampires" among us, and to convince myself not to leap to anger every time it's mentioned. Though Rafael and Veronica aren't actual bloodsuckers, I've spent so long hating vampires that it's hard to shake away the immediate anger.

A shifter, like us, Rafael's mother was attacked by vampires when he was near delivery. He survived, but she didn't, and the venom in her body gave him vampiric powers without the bloody drawbacks.

Veronica is a human—or, at least, started that way—and her mother was attacked much earlier in the pregnancy. She managed to survive, but died during childbirth. That long gestation with the venom made Veronica particularly powerful. Where Rafael has just a few additional quirks to his normal shifting, like being immune to the venom, Veronica has basically all of the strengths of a vampire, without having to hunt or feed from humans.

Still, I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, when my heart starts to beat a little too fast again. It's difficult to keep the images from flooding back to me, the blood and gore, how fast it happened. My mother crumpled to the floor, her hand over her heart. Their joint funeral, relatives who came from out of town, then left without looking back at us.

I can still hear my mother's screams. Piercing, heart-wrenching.

" Olivia ," someone says, running through the door, and I turn to see Rosa, looking like she just woke up. She has eye patches under her eyes, and her long, blonde hair is in two loose braids. And she looks equally pissed and upset as she runs to Olivia's side. "Oh my god, what happened?"

"Curse," Triste and I say at the same time.

"I didn't know people used curses anymore," Rosa says, shaking her head. "Bigby is so fucked for not telling me. He just said Aris called him for an emergency meeting. Let it slip that it was Olivia—the fucking bastard."

"He probably knew that too many people in the room would make things more difficult," Triste mutters, and Rosa fixes her with a piercing glare.

"She's my best friend ," Rosa says, her voice breaking. Then, she seems to compose herself, standing up a little straighter and looking Triste up and down. "Besides, how are we even supposed to be sure that this nonsense about a ritual even makes sense?"

"I still struggle to understand how you can be skeptical of the arcane as a were."

"I'm not were— I'm a shifter. And that's genetic. Genes are science. Provable."

"Someone whispered words to your friend and put her under," Triste says, quirking one eyebrow coolly at Rosa. "If you can explain that with science, then go right ahead."

"Could be…hypnotism," Rosa says weakly, her hand on one of Olivia's. "Or—"

"Got it!" Aris says, entering the room, slightly out of breath. He looks like he ran the whole way here, and stops briefly when he sees Rosa standing there, then seems to decide it's not worth it to fight with her. Turning to Triste, he holds out his hand. "Here's the knife."

"Perfect," Triste says, taking the blade and moving to the cot. Without meaning to, I walk to the other side, my body guiding me over to Olivia. I watch as Triste makes a paste with the plants, arranging the ingredients around Olivia's, whose face is twisted in pain.

I don't even want to imagine what she's going through.

When Triste starts to chant something in Latin, Rosa rolls her eyes, and I reach out and take Olivia's hand. I feel everyone in the room watch the movement but ignore them.

"… surgit! " Triste says, heaving with her effort, her chest rising and falling quick. We all stare down at Olivia, waiting, watching, praying she will wake up.