I raise my eyebrows. “They probably haven’t seen a helluva lot of expulsion marks from the Angel of Death.”
She shakes her head. “Not at all.”
“Can I see him? Will they let me in there?” I ask, desperation filling my tone.
“I think so,” she nods. “Let me see what I can do.”
With that, she gets up, marching herself over to the receptionist. The lady who was there when I first got here is gone and in her place is a man with cropped black hair and dark skin. As Mom approaches, he grins wide at her. I watch the exchange with bated breath, hoping like hell this guy will be more helpful than the last person.
“Thanks, Gary,” Mom says, her voice carrying across the space. She taps the countertop and spins around, giving me the thumbs up as she approaches.
“So, they’ll let me in?” I say, shooting to my feet.
“Give them a second. Gary has to go find the doctor on call,” she says. “But he seemed to think they can get you in there.”
I exhale in relief, but I’m too nervous to sit back down. Instead, I pace back and forth, waiting for someone to come out and talk to me.
Finally, a woman in a bright-white smock comes out of the locked doors beyond, clipboard in hand. Her black hair is piled in a messy bun on the top of her head, giving the impression she’s much taller than she actually is.
“Ms. Blackwood?” she asks, eyeing me for confirmation.
I extend my hand and nod. “Yes.”
She shakes my hand and nods to herself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Lockstad, the attending physician. I understand you are Mr. Hoffman’s girlfriend?” she says, flipping through the paperwork on her clipboard.
“I am,” I say, trying not to sound too abrupt. “But I’m the closest thing he has to family.”
“I see,” she says, clearly stalling as she reads more of his paperwork.
Surely it has to say his family is gone.
My mom stands up, placing her hand along my back in support.
“Well, our hospital policy is that only next of kin—”
“With all due respect, I don’t give a damn about the hospital policy, Dr. Lockstad. I’m not letting the father of my child go through this alone,” I say. “I need to be with him.”
Her dark-brown eyes widen, and she lowers her voice. “The two of you share a child?”
“Not yet, but we will,” I say, my hands falling to my stomach. “I’m pregnant.”
She inhales slowly. Though her eyes hold a hint of suspicion, she nods. “All right. Come with me to his room. We can go over some of the details. Of course, some things will have to be confidential unless he wakes up and authorizes more.”
“Understood. As long as I can be near him, that’s what matters.”
“I’ll give you two some space,” Mom says, leaning in and kissing the side of my cheek. “I’ll run home and grab a few things for you. Is there anything specific you want?”
I shake my head, unable to think about anything I need more than Wade right now.
“Okay, well, call me if you do. I won’t be gone long,” she says.
I nod, reaching for my keys and handing them over to her. “I will.”
With that, Mom heads out the door and the doctor tilts her head toward the intensive care ward. “So, Wade is doing better, but we aren’t certain how to treat him. The infection is spreading and his body is working overtime to try to fight it off,” Dr. Lockstad says, leading the way beyond the double doors.
“My mom made it sound like he had gotten worse. Is that not the case?” I say, watching her closely.
Her forehead creases and she winces slightly. “He goes through unusual episodes. One moment, he’s stable and comfortable. Then, the next his heart rate and temp spike. He almost seizes. It’s had the nurses in a panic more than once.”
My eyes widen and all I can think to say is, “Oh.”
“What do you know about the mark on his chest?” she asks.
“Honestly, not much. His father gave it to him a couple of months ago.”
Concern flits through her features and she makes a face. “I thought you said his family was gone?”
“I—they are. Wade’s an unusual supernatural,” I say, running my fingertips along my forehead. “His father is the Angel of Death.”
Her dark eyes widen and her lips transform into the shape of an O. “Well, that explains a few things.”
“It does?” I ask.
Dr. Lockstad stops and faces me. “The mark has an ouroboros, and we were trying to understand its significance.”
“A what?” I say, tugging my eyebrows in.
“An ouroboros. A snake eating its tail. In some mythologies it symbolizes the cycle of birth and death. But the circle can also mean protection, too. So, the fact that it was snakelike had us a bit confounded,” she says. “I’ll make sure to pass this information along to our supernatural team right away.”
“Good,” I say, hoping like hell this new information is beneficial to them.
“Well, this is his room. He seems pretty comfortable again, but don’t be surprised if he goes into another one of his episodes. It seems to happen more and more frequently,” she says, patting my shoulder and walking away.
I turn to face the small window on his door. For some reason, I’m suddenly scared to open the door. I want to see him back to normal—back to the way he should be.
All of this is my fault. Had I kept my distance, none of this would have happened. The Moirai wouldn’t be after him. His father wouldn’t have expelled him.
He wouldn’t be fighting for his life.
I swallow hard and push open the door. My heart thuds awkwardly as I move closer, practically tiptoeing to Wade’s bed. He doesn’t look well. Instead of the usual soft wave in his dark hair that brushes over his left eye, his hair is matted against his forehead. The rosy color of his cheeks is practically gone, replaced by an eerie pale white, like all of his blood has somehow hidden itself deep under the surface.
An IV is hooked up to his wrist and a small tube vanishes into one of his nostrils.
When I reach him, tears cloud my vision, and I can’t stop my chin from trembling. For the longest time, I stand there, watching him through the tears and listening to the metronome of his heart monitor as I try to regain some composure.
A small v forms between his eyebrows and I wish like hell I could take the pain away for him.
“Wade, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something—” My words get stuck in my throat and I clamp my mouth shut. Instead, I reach out, taking his hand in mine. His skin is cold and clammy, but there’s no way I’d ever want to let it go.
With my foot, I tug the small hospital chair closer, and I take a seat at his bedside.
It’s almost as if hospitals are portals to a realm where all time slows down. For what seems like days, I sit there, vaguely aware of the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the machines monitoring Wade’s condition.
Every once in a while, someone wanders in, checking on Wade’s vitals. They smile apologetically at me and leave as quickly as they come.
The only saving grace is the fact that Wade seems more relaxed than before. The crease in his forehead has diminished a bit and luckily, he hasn’t had any of his episodes.
I lean forward, resting my head on the edge of the bed. But I no sooner set my forehead against the blanket than I hear the door to the room open.
I glance up and find Mom walking into the room.
“Here’s your backpack, sweetie. It has some essentials in it. Clothes, toothbrush, that sort of thing. I even dropped a few snacks in there in case you get hungry,” she says, shooting me her worried-mom face. She passes the backpack to me and I set it on the floor by my feet.
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it,” I say, trying to smile.
Her lips curve upward slightly, and she walks to the other side of Wade’s bed. Placing a hand over his, she looks up at me. “How is he doing?”
&n
bsp; I shake my head. “I don’t know. It’s been relatively quiet since I got in here. They keep checking his vitals, but he hasn’t really moved or anything.”
“That’s the hardest part, for sure. The waiting,” Mom says.
I nod.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to get a bite to eat in the cafeteria before they close up for the night?” she asks, eyeing me. “We never got to eat our turkey, and I’d be surprised if you ate anything after you left.”
I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Autumn, you need to keep up your strength. Besides, you’re not just eating for you.” She tips her chin toward me and raises her eyebrows.
She’s right, I know she is. But I don’t want to leave his side.
As if sensing my apprehension, Mom says, “How about this… I’ll run down and get us something to eat. You stay here and keep an eye on things. Deal?”
Relief spreads through me and I nod. “Yeah, that would be better.”
She winks at me and without another word, she walks out. Time spreads out again while she’s gone, and I find myself unable to keep my eyes open while I wait.
I drop my head again to the side of the bed, resting my forehead beside our hands.
Focusing on the hospital noises, my body is suddenly drifting…
Once again, I’m sitting on the edge of the dock.
My bare feet splash in the cool water, and I can’t help but feel somewhat happy in the way the water droplets cascade across the surface. They ripple outward, interacting with each other the way we ripple across the lives of those we meet.
Suddenly, the Angel of Death is by my side and I’m once again seven years old.
“Big things are coming your way. You know that, right?” he says to me. His words are soft, spoken the way a kindergarten teacher speaks to her students.
“I suppose,” I say, unsure what response he’s looking for. In my hands is the wooden box he’d given me. For some reason, I can’t stop staring at its unique carvings. “What does this do?”
“There is plenty of time to puzzle on that,” he says, smiling softly.
“That doesn’t help, you know,” I say, frowning.
He chuckles. “Understanding its purpose isn’t all that hard, Autumn,” he says, his voice still soft and deliberate. “You just need to read its inscription and it will tell you everything you need to know.”
I wake up with a jolt.
Beside me, Wade’s forehead is beaded with sweat and his lips have taken on a bluish tinge. I feel absolutely useless. There’s nothing I can do to help him—but I can’t just sit here and wait, either.
Inhaling sharply, I glance down at my open backpack. The box is tilted on its side, half-buried by my sweatshirt. Reaching it, I pull it out, turning it over in my hand.
Maybe Mom was right about the sigils. I wish I’d had more time to look into it. Along the edges, there are markings that look like words from some sort of long-lost language. I continue to turn it over, eyeing it from every angle.
If the inscription is the key…
How in the hell do I figure out how to read the damn thing?
Chapter 19
Merry Christmas
The etchings on the outside of the box make absolutely no sense in my brain. But in a strange way, the longer I stare at them, the more they remind me of a combination of hieroglyphics and modern-day Chinese. Beyond that, it’s like no kind of writing I’ve ever seen. Yet, my mom seems to think that’s what it is. Assuming she’s right, and assuming the dream was real, I need to learn what this means. Fast.
If I could just understand why the Angel of Death gave me the box, or hell, wiped my memory, maybe things would start to make sense. I wish Wade was better so he could make his dad come to us, since the Angel of Death clearly doesn’t answer to me at all. Of course, that’s only one of the many reasons I wish Wade was better.
Setting the box aside, I lean forward and pick up Wade’s hand. His palm is cool and almost clammy, but as soon as our skin touches, he sighs. It’s as if he’s somehow aware of my touch and it comforts him. At the very least, it lightens my heart to know that even in this state, even in whatever pain he must be in, I bring him a little bit of peace. I only wish this wasn’t all my fault.
“You should have stayed away from me,” I whisper, stroking the edge of his thumb with my pointer finger. As much as I knew it—as much as he knew it—we just couldn’t seem to do the safe thing.
Wade groans, arching his back slightly.
I run my hand across his forearm, but his face crumples and his head tips backward. He practically buries the top of his head in the pillow as his torso lifts off the bed. Suddenly, the monitor with his heart rate shows a sharp spike and the rest of the machines all around us spring to life.
Still holding his hand, I kick my chair back, letting it skid across the tile floor. Before I can make any other moves, two nurses rush in from the hallway.
“Take a step back, please,” one of them says, sliding between me and the bed. Her arm is forceful as she practically knocks me back.
I clutch at the edge of the deep window well, staring in horror as the two of them hover over Wade. The second nurse rotates away from him, turning to the readouts from the heart machine and checking them over.
The next thing I know, Doctor Lockstad hurries in. She marches straight to Wade, but there’s no hint of panic in her face at all. It’s as if, at this point, she’s used to whatever this is. In some small way, it takes a bit of the edge off my own panic. Her eyes narrow as she pulls out a small pen light and lifts his eyelids, shining the light in his eyes with a quick flick of her wrist.
“He needs his next round of steroids and some sedation. Make sure his fluid intake is increased as well,” she says to the nurse who took my place at the bedside.
“On it,” she says, nodding to the doctor and pivoting to one of the plastic bin units beside the bed. She pulls out a number of medical supplies, then exits the room quickly. When she comes back, she has a couple of small vials in her hand.
Dr. Lockstad slowly checks over Wade’s vitals as he flails hard against her. “Hang tight here, Wade. It’ll be all over soon,” she says, her voice calm and steady.
It doesn’t seem like he hears her at all. He continues to arch his back, rocking from side to side as if fighting an imaginary beast. Then, one of his arms flies up to the mark on his chest. He claws at his hospital gown, tugging at it until the gown releases slightly, revealing angry red lines surrounding the mark. The black webbing is etched deeper into his skin, like a poison trying to infect the rest of his body.
The nurse who had been checking the machine readouts grabs his arms, trying to keep them down.
“Where are we at with the restraints?” Dr. Lockstad asks, her forehead now a cluster of concern.
“I’m sorry. The ward has been so crazy today. You know how it is on Christmas. I’ll go get them now,” the nurse responds.
As she disappears down the hall, I step up, grabbing onto Wade’s wrists and holding them so he can’t hurt himself. My thoughts are a tangled mess, but I can’t help but be surprised by the single word. “Restraints? Are you sure that’s necessary? He’s been so quiet up until now,” I say, struggling to keep his arms down.
The nurse hands the doctor a needle.
“Just until we can get these episodes under control,” Dr. Lockstad says, injecting the medication into Wade’s IV. The nurse hands her a second injection and she goes through the motion all over again.
It takes a few minutes for whatever they gave him to work, but I can tell the instant it does. The rigidity of his muscles relaxes and the fight left in his arms dwindles.
“It’s okay, Wade. We’re here,” I whisper, removing my right hand to run it across his cheek. “I’m here.”
He sighs, his forehead relaxing slightly.
“He knows you’re here,” Dr. Lockstad says, her lips turning up slightly.
“I wish I could do more,”
I say, refusing to divert my gaze from his face.
How could we have come this far? This morning he was fine. More than fine, he was perfect. And I was just about to tell him about the pregnancy…
I’d give anything to be back at that point. I wish I had told him.
The nurse who left to find restraints returns, holding them up for all to see. “Found some down on the third floor.”
“See, he’s calmed down now. Does he really need those?” I ask, wishing I could throw them in the trash.
“It’s for his own safety. If he strains himself too much or claws at his skin before we can make it in here…” Dr. Lockstad begins, her voice trailing off.
“I’m not going anywhere. If that’s all it is, I’ll be here to keep him from harming himself,” I say, pleading with her with my eyes. “It’s the least I can do.”
Dr. Lockstad shifts her gaze from me, to Wade, then back again. She sighs. “All right. If you think you can handle this task, we’ll give it a try.”
I tip my head and exhale in relief. “Thank you.”
“But if it gets to be too much…” Dr. Lockstad warns.
I nod. “Then I know what comes next.”
She smiles warily at me but dips her chin.
The nurse’s arms drop to her side, and she walks over to one of the cupboards on her right. “I’ll place them in here, just in case.”
The doctor nods at her but turns back to Wade. She checks him over once more, running through what looks like a well-worn sequence of checkpoints. As he relaxes back into a quiet state, I pull my hands from his arms and stand up straighter. My fingertips trace his arm, floating back to his hand.
“You will not believe how long the lines were down there. I had to fight off an old lady for the last bit of turkey….” Mom says, entering the room with a tray stacked high with an assortment of food and drinks. As soon as she takes in the scene, her eyes widen and she says, “What’s happened?”
Cursed Legacy: The Windhaven Witches Series Page 13
