Even to this day, I’m fearful of heights.
I think about this now, this first memory of mine. And I realize ... I don’t know Jonah’s first memory. Or Kellan’s. We’ve known each other for years, shared so much, but I never thought to ask either of them this question. And now, I’m to never have the chance to ask, and it makes me so angry and so unbelievably desolate I can barely stand it.
The truth is, I’m living through the pain of losing not only my husband, but my other Connection as well and I am having a hard time conceptualizing that someday, I’ll come to accept I’ve gone through it, but won’t remember the specifics of just how it tears me apart. Because I’m drowning in it right now. It’s all I can see.
It consumes me.
When it comes to Connections, everyone always talks about how great they are. Soul mates, they say. Love. Acceptance. Friendship. Loyalty. There are a million great reasons why Connections are great. But no one tells you what’ll happen if the other person dies. Not really, anyway. No one tells you how your chest hollows and doesn’t fill back up. No one tells you how your will to function, or hell, even live, evaporates in less than a blink of an eye. No one tells you that your whole body feels like your funny bone has been hit, and that someone’s kicked you in the gut at the same time. No one tells you your brain short circuits, so that anything pleasurable is lost to you and that the pain is all you can feel.
“You feel different,” Cicely tells me.
Kellan feels so cold. I don’t know how long we’ve been up here, me holding him, unwilling to let go.
“You should help your friend,” she says again. “Before it’s too late.”
I open my mouth to answer, but tears come before words. It’s already too late, I want to tell her. Doesn’t she see the hole in his chest, where his heart used to rest?
“You were so brave outside. I was not scared as much when I saw how brave you were.”
I wish I could be brave right now.
She takes my hand and slides it down to the hole that used to house the muscle that kept him alive. “This is where you should fix him. He’s missing his heart. You’re a Creator. Can’t you make him a new heart?”
I cry even harder. But I do as she asks. I made Bios a body, didn’t I? I didn’t love him like I do Kellan, so I make this man a new heart, so his body is at least whole.
She smiles at me, clapping her hands together like I’ve just done a wonderful thing. “Now, make it work!”
If only it was that easy ...
Except, maybe it can be?
Enlilkian and his kind took life essences from Magicals to replace what they’d lost. I’ve ... I’ve just taken every last drop from the most powerful Creator ever to exist. He ... he had the power of reanimation, Bios said. Could it really be that easy? Just ... take what I’ve stolen and put it in Kellan?
I have nothing left to lose. So, I curl my fingers around the new heart I’ve just created in Kellan’s chest. I think, please gods, please let this work. And then, for good or bad, I force every last bit of life force I stole from Enlilkian right into that muscle.
Cicely tells me, “Quick! Take your hand out!”
The moment I do, her small hands cover the hole I’ve left behind. Her smile is so sunny in the hazy, smoking wreck we’re sitting in. “Mama was right about you.”
Wh-what?
She lifts up her hands like a magician, all voilà and flourish; shiny, pink new skin has formed over the hole. I ... I ...
Am I hallucinating? Is this real?
I touch the skin. It’s warm. Beneath my pads of my fingertips, I feel ... a heartbeat.
Oh my gods. His heart is beating.
My hand moves slowly up and then down.
He’s breathing. Kellan is breathing.
I can finally breathe, too.
Karl is the one to find us.
A helicopter sets down on the ruined lawn minutes after Cicely’s miracle occurs, like in one of those movies or books where everything happens at just the right time, exactly when it needs to. Only ... the right time never really happened for any of us. Not for all the people, Magicals and Métis, over the years who were brutally murdered and drained dry by the Elders. Not for any of the people kidnapped and murdered by them, so their bodies could serve as rotting puppets to monsters. Not for any of the people who were injured or perished in Karnach, from faceless strangers to brave Ling to Mac and Kofi. Not for my beautiful husband, whose death will forever cut me to the core with every breath I take. Not for the people who lived in this house, not for Cicely, stolen from her parents, not for Vance.
And now all the Elders are gone, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. I’ve made sure nobody else dies at the hands of these monsters, but it’s little consolation to those who paid steep prices to get to this point.
Karl has brought a team with him, including familiar faces such as Giuliana, Iolani, and Kopano. They find me on what is the new roof of the house, clutching a breathing Kellan in one hand and a scared little girl in the other. They find Vance’s body, Lola’s, too—both dead as thanks for their bravery. Lola bled out, they say, and if I could, I would destroy those Elders all over again just to pay them back. Raul is hurt, but thank the gods, his heart is still beating, even if just barely. Cicely checks on him for me, says he’s asleep, like Kellan—and I can’t tell if that means he’s in a coma or just sleeping.
The team finds the neurosurgeon in a pantry off the kitchen; he’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours, as he’s no longer stiff. I think about his kindness toward me, his fear, and wish so much he and the woman in the closet could have had so many more years to enjoy their house out in the woods. Enlilkian took that from them, though.
He took too much.
I’m glad I took everything from him in return.
I refuse to let go of Kellan, even when Karl carries his body downstairs. Cicely keeps saying it’s okay, he’s just really tired right now, but I’m worried. He’s breathing, yes, his heart is strong—but his eyes haven’t opened once.
It takes too long for us to reach Annar. Cicely comes with; her parents will be contacted when we reach the hospital. She needs to be checked out, anyway. I’m worried about her. She’s gone through so much for somebody so little.
Life isn’t fair far too often.
Kate Blackthorn meets us the moment we get to the hospital; Astrid is with her. Did Karl call her in the helicopter? The journey back to Annar is a blur. The only thing that mattered was Kellan’s heart beating, his lungs moving up and down. I finally let go of him when Kellan’s mother begs me to let the Shamans help him, and then I let her hold me tight as he’s hurried off to a room. Because of me, her sons have gone through, risked too much; both paid the ultimate price for their loyalty and feelings toward me.
At least Kellan’s heart is beating. I don’t have to tell Astrid that both of her sons are gone because of me.
Karl squeezes my shoulder; I have yet to thank him. But before I can, he presses a quick kiss against my head and tells me he needs to go and make sure Raul is okay.
“Oh, sweetling,” Astrid says to me, “I am so, so glad you are okay. We have all been greatly worried for your safety.”
Her kindness is painful, like razor slices against skin that refuses to heal. I swallow hard, but the ever-present lump in my throat goes nowhere. “Kellan—”
“Shh, darling.” Her hand rubs my back. “He will be fine. Kate has him. But we need to get you checked out, too. I know that you probably want to go right to Jonah’s room, but you’ll be no good to anyone if you are in pain.”
Wait. Wait.
She’s nudging me forward, toward the Shaman waiting a few feet away, but I dig my heels in, skidding silently to a halt.
Her slim fingers curve around my arm in gentle reminder of foot in front of foot. “Cameron and the kids are with him right now. We’ll go see all of them when you’re done.”
Him.
Astrid is still talking, still pulling m
e toward the Shaman, and I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming because how could she be saying such things? My chest hurts. His pain is now mine.
The Shaman sticks out a hand, introducing herself. I leave it hanging and turn instead to my mother-in-law. Shaky hands wrap around her arms to steady myself. “Wh-what did you say?”
Confusion reflects in her purple eyes. “Cameron is upstairs alongside William and Callie in Jonah’s room.”
My heart leaps to my throat. Kellan wasn’t lying to me? “What room?”
She smiles gently. “Darling, let’s get you check out first. None of them would forgive me if we didn’t—”
Light bulbs around me pop. I choke out, “What room?”
She side skirts thin, broken glass like it’s nothing, like my shock and fears and hopes haven’t manifested themselves in destruction yet again. “Two twenty-two. First, let’s—”
I don’t wait for the rest. I’m already running to find the stairs.
Will and Callie are standing out in the hall, talking quietly. Callie’s got a hand on his chest, and he’s ... it looks like he’s got one curving the arc of her waist. In any other circumstance, this might delight me, but ...
But I need to see what’s behind door number two hundred and twenty-two.
They’re startled when I jog up, and I get it, I do. I’m covered in dirt, ash, blood, sweat, and tears. One of my arms is hosting a tourniquet. I’m a hot mess if there ever was one to wear the label. Will’s saying my name, asking me how I am, and I hear all the love and concern in his voice, but I ignore him, ignore Callie, too when she asks where Kellan is.
I yank the door open and find Cameron sitting by a bed, reading a newspaper. He also says my name, but ... but ...
My husband’s lying in the bed next to him.
My good hand covers my mouth; some godsawful choking noises sound in the room and I’m pretty sure they’re mine.
Jonah’s here. In a hospital. With Cameron.
Pictures rattle on the walls, a plastic cup topples off a table, spilling water across the floor. Hope all too recently buried springs forth in a glorious blaze of color.
“Hen! I thought Astrid was getting you checked out.” Cameron rises to meet me, but I brush past him and head straight to the bed. I hope he’ll forgive me for my rudeness, hope he’ll understand.
My hands are shaking. I’m flat-out shaking and so ecstatic I don’t know what to do with myself. Jonah’s alive. Jonah’s here. Kellan wasn’t lying—his brother is here.
He’s asleep, head titled slightly to the side as his chest softly rises and falls. He looks okay, though. Not a scratch on his face. I can’t see his chest beneath the blankets, but ... his face looks so good, like nothing ever happened.
If only I could pretend none of this happened.
“I’m here.” I crawl up on the mattress next to him, grabbing the hand closest to me and kissing it before I lean over and press my mouth to his. His lips are ... cold. Is the air conditioning on too high in the room? I’ll have to fix that. “I’m here. I’m back. I’m so sorry that it took me so long. Gods, you cannot imagine how glad I am to see you. I thought,”—I lay a cheek against the back of his hand—“it doesn’t matter what I thought. We’re together again. That’s what counts.”
“Hen ...”
He must be so tired. He isn’t even stirring, even though I’m practically bouncing on his bed. “Jonah?” I curve my good hand around his face. Huh. His skin is cold, too.
Cameron runs a hand across his face and takes a deep breath. “Chloe—”
My husband isn’t waking up. Other than breathing, he’s not moving. “Jonah?”
Will and Callie are back in the room, I think; their hushed, uneasy voices blur in the background. Why do they all seem so sad?
“Jonah?” I shake his shoulders a little; it’s selfish of me to wake him up when I’m sure the Shamans have told him he needs to be resting, but I just need to know he’s okay. Even if it’s just a sleepy hi and smile. I kiss his mouth again, the force of all my love for him radiating out of me. He’s so still, though, so ... cold. He’s never felt so cold to me before.
Anxiety finds its way back to my belly. He needs to wake up. I ... I will not accept anything other than Jonah being okay right now. Nothing else is acceptable. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been though, gone through.
I do the unthinkable. I haul my hand back and smack the face of the person I love more than any other being in the entire universe, leaving behind a red mark. “Wake up!” My voice is so hoarse from the day’s events, but I’m loud enough to shake the room. Shake the bed. “Jonah Whitecomb, you need to wake up right now! Do you hear me?”
Nothing. Not a single twitch, flinch, or change of breath.
No. This is not happening, not again. Oh gods, not again. I rip the blankets back, tug up his the top of his pale blue scrubs. My fingers trace across the smooth skin there; no lines, no holes, no anything but paling golden skin. My ear drops down; his heartbeat is slow and steady, matching his soft breathing.
Why isn’t he waking up? Is this ... is he in a coma?
Cameron is saying my name, so is his son. But me, I’m considering my options. Jonah’s heart ... it sounds good. The memory of the Elders stabbing him in it lingers, though. I felt those attacks, saw them. How did he survive? Could it be possible they missed his heart, even if by millimeters? If so ... why is he still asleep? He’s Kate Blackthorn’s best friend’s son. There is no way she wouldn’t have worked her ass off to heal him. Why is he asleep?
I need to fix him, fix whatever is still wrong. I ... I brought Kellan back. He didn’t even have a heart, and now he’s breathing. I can fix Jonah, too. I just ... I just need to figure out what’s wrong. Find what’s wrong and make it better.
Lightbulbs are popping around us, Fourth of July sparklers set ablaze as I draw every last atom and molecule toward me. I thought I put all of Enlilkian’s life force into Kellan, but ... maybe there’s something left. Something extraordinary enough to fix this man I don’t know if I can live without. If not, I will happily give him all that I have. I have the power of reanimation, right? I will just ... reanimate him. That’s all. So easy. I grab his face between my hands, ignoring the sharp spikes of pain ripping through my broken arm; I take the worlds’ largest breath, let it out slowly.
Here goes everything ...
A hand comes to rest on my shoulder just as I begin shoving every single piece of life force I have inside me into Jonah. “Hen, please, let’s get you taken care of before—”
I jerk out of Cameron’s grasp, collapsing onto the bed. I’m woozy, stars dance in front on my eyes for the second time in one day. I’m not done, though. Not by a long shot. “Let ... me ... finish.”
“I don’t know what is going on right now,” he says, and I marvel at how he can sound both curt and worried all at once, “but it cannot be good. Hen, you’ve just lost all your coloring, even more than you had when you first came in here. Please. Let me help you get out of this bed so we can get you healed and in the right form on mind.”
Laughter, wonderful, bitter laughter forces its way out. Doesn’t he see? Doesn’t he get it? Why does everybody keep worrying about me? I am not that important. I’m just a girl who keeps screwing everything up.
Will’s hand stretches out toward mine. “I cannot imagine what you’ve gone through, but you need to—”
“I don’t need to do anything other than what I’m doing!” I don’t like the look on their faces. They’re all so bloody sad. So worried. No. I can’t accept this. NO. Please let them be only worried for me. Not for him. Not now, not when I’m holding him, not when I know I can fix him. I just have to find what’s wrong. Did the Elders take something from him, too?
“Chloe, you are not in control of yourself,” Will barks. “Do you even see what you’re doing to the room? Hospital? You are scaring people!”
Oh gods. Oh gods. I force my eyes closed, count to ten. It’s not working. Twenty. Thirty
. He’s talking, he’s telling me it will be okay, Cameron too, but nothing is okay, not if Jonah has to pay for all my sins.
It’s my turn to be slapped. Shock stuns my eyes back open. Callie is standing there, shaking. The room is a broken mess. “If you think for one moment that, if J were awake, he would ever put up with you ignoring your health, you can think again, Chloe Whitecomb. You are going to get your ass up and to a Shaman, do you hear me?”
She’s not the only one shaking. My fingers curl into fists. I force more breaths in and out. Say, as calmly as I can when all I want to do is to give myself over to the rage once more, “What is going on? Why isn’t he waking up? What did those things do to him?”
All Callie’s heat leaves as her mouth falls open, wordless. Will looks over at his father, helplessness darkening his brown eyes.
“Did Kellan not talk to you when he found you?” Cameron asks me slowly at the same time Astrid bursts through what’s left of the doorway, out of breath. She takes in the room with wide eyes before sagging against the wall.
“There was fear the Elders had somehow gotten into Annar again,” she murmurs shakily. And then, straightening up. “Chloe, I know things are hard right now, but you need to take a breath.”
I’ve taken a breath. I’ve taken a hundred of them. None of them are working.
“I just talked to Karl, he told me ...” She approaches me warily. “He told me how he found you and Kellan. Sweetling, nobody can blame you for being on edge. But ... you must calm down. You must—”
“I obliterated them.” I grab Jonah’s hand again. “I obliterated them all. They won’t be coming to Annar again. You don’t have to worry about that. And I will go and obliterate all the rest of them below the city as soon as my husband is okay.”
Her lips press together. “Darling—”
“Now. I would like somebody to tell me what is wrong with Jonah.”
A full count of forty happens before she says, “I wish we could.”
Everything just kind of goes hazy. I focus on the person below me, on his still face. “Where is Kate? Shouldn’t she be in here helping him?”
A Matter of Forever (Fate #4) Page 22
