Next, Jessica emerged from the back of the vehicle, walking in a shuffle because of the restraints around her ankles. She didn’t glance Lucas’s way, preoccupied with helping the three boys out behind her. Through the glass, Lucas heard Jessica’s assurances and the boys’ crying.
“Oh my God…Lord Jesus, what will we do?” Abena whispered, her face pressed to the window as she squeezed beside Jared and Lucas. Her skin was hot. Fevered.
“Easy…,” Lucas said softly. “They’re fine, Abena.”
Long-legged Natan came first, looking taller than his ten years, and then the younger two. The boys had not been shackled when Teka had first taken them from their mothers, but they were tied together now. Just like Lucas and Jared, they were bound by a wrist and ankle to the one behind them, a human train. They nearly stumbled out of the SUV, their balance was so hindered.
Lucas’s vision blurred as ancestral memories filmed his eyes with tears. The shackled children reminded him of a horrifying photograph he had seen of the hold of a slave ship crowded with nothing but the faces of the young, an image he’d wanted to forget as soon as it had polluted his eyes. That photograph had filled him with rage, but not as much as this.
Abena was breathing so fast that she was close to hyperventilating. Whimpers bled from her throat. Lucas held her shoulders tightly as Sharmila held her waist from behind. When Jima glanced in their direction, Lucas’s body went cold.
“It’s OK,” Lucas whispered, desperate to soothe Abena. “They’re fine. See? They’re fine. Shhhhhh. It’s OK.”
Lucas didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Jima looked away from them, back toward Jessica and the children. As the group ascended the metal stairs, vanishing inside the plane, Lucas wondered if this was where they would be separated for good.
This time, no one emerged.
Should they try to run? Was that their only option?
Lucas leaned forward to check the ignition, just in case the keys were still there. No keys, of course. As soon as he moved, Jima came trotting back down the steps. If he jumps back behind that driver’s seat, the only place he’ll take us is a mass grave, Lucas thought. He sat back quickly, watching Jima’s approach with a chest-rattling combination of fear and hopefulness that paralyzed his higher thinking centers; he was only a beast in a cage, like any other.
Jima flung open the SUV’s passenger door beside him, filling the vehicle with sunlight. Abena gasped, squirming beneath Sharmila’s strong grip.
“Come out one at a time,” Jima said. “You will board the plane. Move quickly.”
Thank you, Lucas thought, testing a prayer as his fingers tightened around his seat’s fabric. Thank you, God.
All the while, he knew they should be anything but grateful.
Far beneath them, the woods were burning. Her home was afire.
As the jet soared over Toledo with clamoring engines, Jessica couldn’t see the Big House or the school in the sprawling acreage of green woods. But she guessed that the sudden wildfire sending smoke to chase them into the sky was neither coincidence nor accident. Besides, her heart knew: Yet another blood mission had ended in destruction.
Everything she and David had built was gone. Again.
Aren’t we doing your bidding, Lord? Why are we punished so?
Jessica’s eyes ached. Mercifully, the plane’s ascent stole her into the clouds, and the world below yielded to white sky. But there was no reprieve from the sound of the children’s frightened cries, or from her mother’s dying face.
Jessica was alone in the plane’s rear section with Bea, who lay on the leather sofa, her face twisted in pain. As the plane shuddered, climbing, Jessica sat on her knees on the carpeted floor beside her mother, holding Bea’s clammy hand.
Teka and Jima had closed the doors to cordon off the plane’s three sections: Abena, Sharmila and the children were in the first-class section closest to Teka and Jima in the cockpit—most vulnerable to an attack. Lucas, Jared and Alex were in the middle section, with Alex’s seat fully reclined to make her a bed as she slept. Jessica had hardly had the chance to ask Lucas’s advice before they’d been shut away from each other, the doors between cabins closed. Watch her monitor, was all Lucas had said before Jima had snapped him silent. But watch it for what?
Jessica didn’t have to understand the monitor’s staccato signals to know what impending death looked like. Bea was sweating profusely, and her struggles to breathe were torture to Jessica’s ears. Bea would die on this plane unless they intervened.
Jessica’s ankles were bound together with a six-inch cord between them, so she shuffled to the cabin door that separated her from the rest of the plane.
Jessica pounded on the locked door, calling out. The doors weren’t metal, but they were sturdy. “Teka!” she yelled. “Fana’s grandmother needs medical attention! If you care about Fana, you’ll let Lucas help her!”
Silence, except for the engines.
“Teka, you’ll answer to Fana if something goes wrong!” As if Fana was Vengeance itself. Could Teka even hear her? Jessica closed her eyes. Teka? I know you can hear my thoughts, even if you don’t hear my words. Please let me save Fana’s grandmother.
Only the hum of the plane’s Rolls Royce engines answered her, along with a muffled sob from little Debashish, who was inconsolable at the front of the plane even in his mother’s lap.
Jessica banished her panic. She didn’t have Lucas’s medical expertise, but she had the Living Blood. Jessica looked at her fingernails, which were uneven but long. If she had to claw her skin until she bled, she wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing while her mother died.
“Jessica.” Bea’s wind-soft voice.
Bea’s eyes were bright, struggling to stay wide open. Her knowing gaze made Jessica remember that her mother had been the first mind reader in her life. Bea held out her unsteady hand, and Jessica stumbled toward her.
Bea squeezed Jessica’s hand, her grip firm. “You remember…that promise…you made me?” An unfamiliar rasp, and that horrible gurgle underneath.
Jessica’s strength melted. She shook her head so violently that her neck hurt. “No. Mom, no! Don’t say that again now.”
“You…look me…in the eye…and promise, Jessica. No…blood.”
Childish tears fell. “Why? Why can we give it to everyone else—”
“Because…they don’t know.”
“They don’t know what?”
“It’s…stolen. And…besides…it’s all right.”
“It’s not all right!” Jessica heard herself shriek. For an instant, she broke away from herself, as if she were floating on the ceiling staring down at her own face, red and knotted. Her joints shook, and she lost her balance as the plane pitched slightly sideways. She fell against Bea’s chest, and her mother held her there. The monitor chattered in Jessica’s ear.
“Yes…baby. It’s…all right,” Bea said. “I’m…tired. I’m ready to see…Kira. And…Randall. And…your daddy.”
Jessica sobbed from a place so deep that the cry felt ripped from her, as if by a claw.
“Trust…in Him, baby,” Bea said. “We can’t…see…everything…from where we’re…standing.”
Jessica could barely hear her. Her frame shuddered with another sob.
Bea squeezed her hand again, harder. “Jessica…promise me. Hear?”
Jessica couldn’t form any words. Instead, she nodded her head against Bea’s breast. No blood, no matter what. The thought dug free a sob more painful than the one before.
Suddenly, like a miracle, Teka’s voice boomed on the plane’s loudspeaker: “Lucas? You and your son may join Fana’s mother and grandmother in the rear.”
Jessica sat straight up, electrified. Everything around her had been dimming down, burying her, but suddenly she could breathe again. Thank you, Teka. Bless you. Bless you.
I AM NO MONSTER, JESSICA. YOU MUST BELIEVE THAT.
Jessica fought against her ankle restraints to make her way to the door.
“Hurry, Lucas!” she called, and an eternity of silence passed. “Lucas!”
The door finally clicked, unlocking. Lucas and Jared opened the door and shuffled through, still bound together. As soon as Jessica saw Lucas, she understood the delay: Lucas had retrieved the plane’s large black medical kit. His eyes were clear, fixed on Bea.
“Her heart…,” Jessica said.
Lucas nodded curt assurance. “I’ll see to her, Jess.”
Jessica felt the universal relief humankind has experienced since the first shaman was summoned to a sickbed. She’ll be fine. He’ll take care of her. The fervor of her wishing squeezed her hands into tight fists. Lucas gazed at the wrist monitor’s readings, then he lifted Bea’s blouse to press his old-fashioned stethoscope to her chest. He trusted his ears best. Bea’s shrunken breasts fell apart, nearly weightless.
“Don’t see…all the fuss,” Bea panted.
Lucas smiled, although his eyes weren’t smiling when he glanced at Jessica. His alarm was plain. Lucas fumbled inside the medical kit, tossing plastic-encased bandages and creams to the floor. He was in a hurry. The kit’s boxy shape reminded Jessica of paramedics trying to save Kira, a memory that tried to steal her fledgling calm. But Jessica wiped that memory away.
“Mom…,” Lucas said. “How’s that pressure in your chest?”
“Just…angina,” Bea said. But her features fluttered, fighting pain. “I’m…dizzy, though.”
“Jess? Grab me a glass of water,” Lucas said. His voice was so relaxed that it was ethereal. “Mom, I wish I had morphine for the pain, but these pills are beta blockers to help strengthen your heart, give it some relief. And we’re gonna’ throw in some aspirin for good measure.”
“She had 325 milligrams an hour ago,” Jessica said, before she turned toward the mini-bar.
“More won’t hurt,” Lucas said.
At that, Bea laughed weakly. “Aspirin? We could have…done that.”
With the sound of Bea’s laughter to buoy her, Jessica made her way back to the plane’s lavish minibar, clinging to the leather seats to keep upright. Suddenly, a day that had felt doomed was changing its mood. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
“Sometimes the old ways are best, Mom,” Lucas said behind her.
“See, Gramma?” Jared said. “Just like you always say.”
The minibar’s granite counter and gold-plated faucet promised comfort and ease. Jessica grabbed the first glass she saw—a champagne flute—and the water splashed into the sink in a strong stream. God had begun all of life with nothing but a little water, after all.
She heard Bea chatting on: “Jared…you watch out for…those kids. And…Fana.”
“I will, Gramma.”
“Mom?” Lucas said. “I need you to hush a while. Just try to take deep breaths.”
Bea never liked anyone trying to shush her, so at first Jessica thought the curdling wail from her mother was only indignation. When Jessica whipped her head around to tell Bea to stop arguing, she saw her mother’s wide-mouthed agony instead.
Bea was in a ball. Her body rippled with a convulsion, then fell still.
The cardiac monitor, instead of beeping, was suddenly the steady hum Jessica remembered from watching Emergency! as a child. A flat line, like Kira in the Louisiana motel.
The glass fell from Jessica’s numb fingers, cracking on the granite counter.
“She’s arrested!” Lucas said.
Nononononononononononononono
When the plane pitched forward slightly, Jessica’s legs nearly buckled. Her senses telescoped; all sound was buried by the plea in her mind and on her tongue. “No…no…no…”
Lucas and Jared pulled Bea down from the sofa, and Bea’s arms flopped to the carpet. Jessica noticed that her mother’s fingernails were freshly painted, a pale pink that matched her favorite Easter hat. Bea prized her vanity; she had met every stage of life on her own terms.
“CPR!” Lucas said, and Jared folded his hands across Bea’s chest, pumping. Jared was biting his lower lip hard, blinking back tears. Lucas and Alex had trained Jared in CPR in high school, when he’d insisted on being a summer lifeguard in Longview. Jared’s compressions were precise, so forceful that Jessica was afraid he would break every frail rib in Bea’s body.
“One…two…three…,” Jared counted aloud.
Working awkwardly because one wrist was chained to Jared, Lucas opened another compartment of the medical kit and brought out two glistening metal pads, one in each hand. They were smaller than the devices on 1970s television, but Jessica recognized defibrillators when she saw them. Electric shock for the heart.
“Back, Jared,” Lucas said, and Jared pulled his hands away.
Please Lord you took Kira but don’t take Mom like this pleasepleaseplease
When Lucas pressed the pads to Bea’s chest, her frame arched with the jolt, as if the pads had been magnetized. Then Bea fell back to the carpet. The monitor hummed, unchanged.
This moment had felt inevitable since the day of Bea’s heart attack. No, before then: since the day of Jessica’s wedding, when she and her mother had been getting dressed together, and she’d noticed how her mother’s skin had been gently drooping away on her cheeks, falling loose from her arms. Bea had been slowly transforming ever since, just like David had tried to warn her: In a very short amount of time—it will amaze you how quickly—one by one, they will be gone. They are mortals, and you are no longer one of them.
As if the memory of David’s words summoned him, Teka’s voice swamped Jessica’s head: IF SHE IS TO LIVE, SHE MUST HAVE BLOOD, Teka said, telling her what her heart already knew. THE CEREMONY CAN SAVE HER, AND YOU WILL HAVE HER FOREVER.
Yes. Just like David had tried to save Kira. Forever.
Lucas pressed the pads a second time, and Bea’s body jittered again.
“Dammit,” Lucas said.
A third time. Jessica gasped when Bea’s leg kicked out, a dance from the electricity that ended as soon as Lucas pulled the pads away.
“Go, Jared,” Lucas said. “Keep her blood circulating.”
As Jared jabbed Bea’s chest with his palms, Lucas gazed up at Jessica with an expression that might have been carved in rock. Jessica knew what his face meant before Lucas produced a tiny scalpel, flashing it in the cabin’s light. He pressed the blade to his bare wrist.
“Jess?” Lucas said.
Jessica fell to her knees beside Lucas. She grabbed Bea’s hand. Still warm. Bea’s fingers seemed to squirm inside of hers, but Jessica knew it was the illusion of her own trembling.
Lucas poked himself with the scalpel, and dark blood spurted from his skin. “Blood alone won’t do it. Her heart’s stopped. Do you know the Ceremony?”
Jessica nodded. David had taught her the Hebrew words, explaining the Ceremony he had invoked to save her life when her heart had died, and later to save Lucas, too. The Blood is the vessel for Life…The Blood flows without end, as a river through the Valley of Death….
How many times had she tried to transport herself back to that Louisiana motel room to whisper the same words to Kira and steal her from Death?
Forgive me, Mom.
Droplets of blood fell from Lucas’s wrist to Bea’s face. Crimson tears.
Jessica closed her eyes, and the sudden darkness was clarifying. “No,” she said. “We can’t.”
“What?” Jared said. Disbelief and rage deepened her nephew’s voice to gravel. “Is there some fucking rule—”
“I promised her,” Jessica said. “No blood.”
Jessica felt a hand beneath her chin, so she opened her eyes. Lucas’s stare filled her sight. “This is it, Jess,” Lucas said. “She’s gone. Do you understand?”
Jessica nodded. A fire was brewing in her lungs, but somehow she spoke. “I know,” she said. She leaned over Bea and wiped the stray blood from her face, suddenly frantic for her mother to be clean of it. “I know.” She tried to say it a third time, but the fire ate her words.
No matter. Gently,
Jessica pushed Jared’s hands aside, to stop his manic compressions. Jared resisted at first, but Lucas made a stern clucking sound, and Jared finally pulled away with an angry sigh. Then, a sob.
Jessica buttoned Bea’s blouse where Lucas had loosened it, then she grabbed her mother’s shoulders and gathered her into her arms. Bea seemed as light as a child. Jessica squeezed Bea’s body against her, rocking. A last, warm communion. Jessica cupped the back of her mother’s head, sifting through the strands of hair Bea always kept so neatly combed, textured with the Africans, Europeans, Seminoles and Cherokees who had made peace to create her.
See, Mom? Sometimes I listen. I’m not as hardheaded as you think. You see?
Jessica heard herself howl. But that was only her body, talking out its pain.
Jessica’s face was washed in sunlight from the plane’s window, and the open sky reminded her that they were thousands of feet above the earth. The plane’s urgent ascent made sense of the day: They were ferrying Bea in her gilded chariot, just like the preachers said.
Her mother was already halfway Home.
Thirty
Outside of Nogales
Sonora province, Mexico
Fana was mired in a place beyond sadness.
The pull toward trance was so strong that Fana had to fight to keep her eyes open. The surly late-afternoon sun and a monotonous, dusty mountain road conspired with her misery. Fana swayed with each bump, rescued from trance by the creaky van’s motion.
The road’s uphill climb was so steep that Fana expected the van to pitch backward. Each sharp turn on the narrow road felt like taking flight from the cliff. From where she sat in the middle passenger seat of the four-row van, Fana pulled forward to try to see through the windshield. The rest of the windows were clotted with dust, but the windshield was a panorama of lush vegetation and mountains. Another time, it might have been beautiful.
With the next bump came a jolt of dread.
Something awful had happened. Something at home.
Blood Colony Page 35
