by T. A. White
We let each other go, neither commenting on how the other was discretely swiping tears out of their eyes.
“Can I see her?” I asked, hesitantly. There was every chance Jenna wouldn’t want me around Linda, even after the apparent welcome she’d given me. It would hurt but I was prepared to accept whatever decision she made.
“Of course,” Jenna said, stepping to the side. “The doctor said only two at a time. Really, he wanted mom and dad to leave hours ago, but they refused, so we’ve been taking turns.”
Liam touched my arm. “I’ll wait here.”
I clasped his hand gratefully, letting him see my gratitude. I was on borrowed time. It had taken half an hour to get here and then another twenty minutes just to find Jenna and Linda. The sun was already edging its way above the horizon. If it hadn’t been for his blood, I would be minutes away from collapsing.
“I won’t be long,” I told him.
He nodded, his face unconcerned, his gaze soft.
I followed Jenna into the room, the smell of the hospital making me slightly queasy. Why was it that every hospital I’d ever visited smelled the same? Like puke and antiseptic, sickness and death. I didn’t care what cleaning products they used, it was always the same.
I hated that Linda was here. Hated she had to smell this air, that it would linger long after she was out of here.
Her room was private at least, with a window overlooking the parking garage and a chair in the corner. A book on the table told me that was where Jenna had been before my confrontation with our mother had pulled her out of here.
The bed was the last object I took in, reluctant to see my niece so small and frail, hooked up to monitors that beeped incessantly.
This wasn’t the first hospital room I’d ever visited. I had more friends than I cared to think about who’d had stints in places like this. Most had survived, some had not.
Somehow this time, it hurt worse.
My feet took me over to Linda, but still, I hesitated to touch her. Her skin was pale with bruises around her eyes, her hair limp around her face.
“What happened?” I asked, reaching out to touch the top of Linda’s hand.
She didn’t stir, remaining locked in slumber, for which I was grateful. She didn’t need to see the fear on our faces or hear the desperation we were feeling. She deserved all things sunny and beautiful, not this sterile place that smelled like death.
Jenna shook her head, her arms folded in front of her as if holding herself tightly might keep her from falling apart. “The doctors don’t know. They said she’ll need all sorts of tests before they can tell us anything.”
Her gaze darted to Linda and back before she blurted, “I don’t know how I’m going to pay for everything. My insurance isn’t going to cover all this.”
“I thought your job had good benefits,” I said.
Jenna worked at a law firm. It had been one of the many things my mom had thrown in my face when she’d been harping on my lack of direction.
Jenna shook her head. “I don’t work there anymore. I took a new position with a startup. It has great pay and vacation, but the medical and retirement benefits are nowhere near as good as my last job.”
I hadn’t known she’d changed jobs. Just another way I had lost touch.
“We’ll figure it out,” I told her.
I didn’t have a lot of money, but what I had, I’d give her. This job with Liam would help.
Jenna nodded, though she didn’t look particularly convinced. It was hard to blame her. She knew I didn’t make much.
“There was no sign that she was sick?” I asked.
“Not that I saw,” Jenna said, her voice rising. For the first time anger threading through it. “I would have taken her to the doctor if there was.”
“I know you would have,” I said soothingly.
Jenna was a good mom. If Linda had so much as a sniffle it was off to the clinic or an urgent care. Before this, I would have said she was a little too neurotic about it. Now, Jenna would no doubt be kicking herself over supposed missed signs.
I’d had to ask though.
“What time did she start throwing up?” I asked.
“A little before ten, I think.”
That was before I foiled the assassination plot.
I didn’t know if I was hoping for a link between the two events or not. Children got sick. Sometimes they got very sick, the type of illness that would impact the rest of their lives if they were lucky enough to survive.
If this was something done to her as a result of my actions, it would kill me to know I’d caused it, but at least the solution would be much more straightforward. There would be a solution, I knew that much. Even if I had to kill every High Fae in the city.
“I get it now,” Jenna said, her voice still raw from choking back tears.
The words yanked me from my dark thoughts and I looked up. “You get what?”
“Why you were so angry every time we tried to interfere. Why you pulled back every time we pushed.”
The words were so unexpected I went silent, watching her with a careful gaze. Of all the things I’d expected from her tonight, this was not among them.
“We shouldn’t have done some of the stuff we did,” she confessed. “If you’d come into my house unannounced or rearranged my stuff, I would have lost my mind.”
While I appreciated she finally understood where they had crossed the line, I didn’t know where this was coming from.
She caught the baffled look and gave me a sad smile. There was a hint of shame on her face. “You know when I first got pregnant, you were the only one who never judged me. You just took my hand and told me we’d get through this. I never did thank you for that.”
“I wasn’t the only one. Mom was there for you too.”
Jenna shook her head. “Mom didn’t talk to me for the entire pregnancy. She didn’t let up until after Linda was born.”
That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.
“The baby shower she threw you.”
“Dad made her. If you recall, she didn’t invite any of her friends or most of our family. She didn’t even talk to me during it. She spent the whole time cleaning and setting up,” Jenna said, seeming resigned.
I sat down on the chair next to the bed. I did remember that. I thought it was just our mom’s usual neurotic antics before a party. She had to have everything perfect. She always had. Mom loved to entertain, but she was a pain during the preparation and decoration phases. It might be one of the reasons I hated parties or any entertaining that was more complicated than popping open a beer and a bag of chips.
“How did I not see this?” I asked myself.
“Because you were always the strong one,” Jenna said. “You never tolerated her silent treatment. Whenever she tried, you just went your own way and never even noticed, or you just pestered her until she reacted.”
Still, I wasn’t an unobservant person, you would have thought I’d remember.
“She tried to get me to put Linda up for adoption,” Jenna confessed.
Shock held me immobile. I hadn’t known that. I knew Mom hadn’t been exactly thrilled to learn her daughter was pregnant by a married man—especially given how young she’d been—but I hadn’t thought she’d go that far to correct Jenna’s mistake.
“Then after Linda was born, she was always there with her tips and opinions,” Jenna said.
Yes, and Jenna had always taken them, but perhaps not for the reason I’d always assumed.
“I was so happy she was talking to me again that it was just easier to do things her way,” Jenna said.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Jenna sniffed. “Because you were there for me. You never wavered even when I was being a bitch. I wish I could have done the same for you.”
I stood rooted to the spot, not knowing how to respond. It was true. My family had been difficult when I got back. They’d sensed something was wrong, and I couldn’t tell them what
that something was. Not without risking their safety.
Instead, they had jumped to conclusions. They thought everyone who came back from serving there had PTSD and other issues. They assumed I had a drinking problem.
PTSD is a real and very present issue with service members. I had friends who suffered from it.
Most who came home were affected by the war in some way. It didn’t have to be PTSD, though that is where civilians’ thoughts always seemed to go.
Simply put, war affects you. It changes you. It should.
It’s hard to put into words for people who’ve never experience it, but being over there was like having every nerve in your body stripped raw and then wound tight. So tight that just the smallest pressure could send you to angry town.
Time and distance helped with recovery. Pressure from the people who should accept you and their relentless pushing for you to be just as you were, didn’t.
Tears welled in Jenna’s eyes, “I’m sorry, Lena. Can you forgive me?”
I crossed to my sister and pulled her into a hug. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
We held each other for several long minutes. I felt the sun rise, that burning ball of fire reminding me why I’d had to pull back, had to let them keep their misconceptions.
I drew away and gave Jenna a shaky smile. “How about you go find mom and dad and get something to eat? You’ll need your strength for today. I can sit with Linda until you get back.”
She hesitated, the struggle between staying with her daughter and finding something to eat visible.
She nodded, crossing to Linda and bending down to place a kiss on her forehead, her pain obvious to anyone watching.
She squeezed my arm as she went by.
I waited until she was out the door before going to Linda’s bed and taking a seat beside her. I reached for her hand. “You’re going to be okay, little girl. I know this might seem scary right now, but your Aunt Aileen is going to figure this out.”
Even if she had to kill a lot of people to do it. My niece was not going to lay bedridden a minute longer than she had to.
Liam entered seconds after Jenna left, his thoughtful gaze taking in the two of us.
“Could your old girlfriend have done this?” I asked, not wasting any time.
I needed to know.
Liam moved closer, his path silent. His hand went to Linda’s forehead, the touch surprisingly gentle for the deadly enforcer.
“The Fae have many ways to hurt the young,” he said, his voice serious. “Some consider children to be the most delicious of delicacies.”
My hands tightened into fists at that news. My fangs slid down and I let out a small, enraged sound. Liam noted the action but didn’t comment on it.
I closed my eyes and repeated to myself. Linda was safe. We didn’t know yet if the Fae even had anything to do with this. It could be some crazy coincidence.
“What else?” I asked after I’d calmed sufficiently.
“There are those who place changelings in the child’s place so the parents don’t miss them,” Liam said softly.
“Changelings.” My voice was flat.
“Sometimes they’re lesser Fae who stay for a time. Other times it’s a piece of wood. Always the child sickens and dies after a while,” Liam said.
We both looked at where Linda lay on the bed. The only sign of life the lift of her chest and the persistent beep of the machines.
“You think she’s a changeling,” I said, the question a statement.
“I don’t know. It is a practice that has fallen out of favor, though there are occasionally instances where it is still done,” Liam said, choosing his words carefully. “Do you see anything to suggest that might be the case?”
I got up, pacing away. “Nothing. There’s nothing there. Not even a shadow. She looks just like my niece, feels just like her.”
She looked perfectly normal in my othersight. There was no trace of magic.
Liam watched me, his expression sad. “Then you must consider the possibility that this is a human ailment. Not everything has a magical explanation.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted this to be something I could fix. I wanted to take that look of fear from my sister’s eyes.
“But it could be?” I asked.
He hesitated, before reluctantly nodding.
That’s all I needed to know. I might not be able to prove it, but I knew that Fae bitch had something to do with it. I would make her pay for messing with my family.
After that we sat in silence, the sun becoming more present in the sky, turning the window outside the room into a painting that still, after all this time, managed to take my breath away and remind me humans were just a small part of the greater whole.
I’d seen many sunrises in the military, some beautiful, some lackluster, some bashful and shy. I’d missed them when I became a vampire. Now I counted each one I saw as the blessing they were.
It was while I was staring out the window, my hand on Linda’s that Jenna stepped into the room, lingering in the doorway as her gaze slid from Liam back to me.
He ignored her hint, staying by my side as she finally moved into the room after a long pause. He’d gone still, his expression cooling considerably as she approached.
I glanced at him in confusion, noting my mother peering through the window in the door. The abrupt reversal in his manner suddenly made sense.
I didn’t pay much attention to his coldness or the way his gaze had turned unfriendly, grateful for Jenna’s return.
As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t going to hold out for much longer. The sun was beginning to win out over my will. I could still function, but exhaustion lurked just under the surface. If I thought too hard about how tired I was, I knew I wouldn’t make it out of this chair, let alone the hospital.
“Aileen, can we have a minute?” Jenna asked.
The question made me blink dumbly, the fatigue slowing my thoughts. I looked up at Liam.
His answer was simple. “No.”
I frowned at him. He gazed down at me, the unhappiness there surprising me, especially considering the moment we’d just shared.
It woke me up a little, alerted me to the fact something wasn’t quite right. I straightened in the chair and looked at my sister, finally tuning into the look on her face. One that was part shame and part stubbornness. It was an expression completely at odds with the Jenna who had just left here.
I couldn’t help but brace myself. Liam’s caution invaded me and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to spend any time alone with her.
“Just say what you need to say,” I said, my voice hardening just slightly. I forgot my promise to myself, that I was going to make more of an effort to understand where they were coming from, that I wasn’t going to treat them as potential hostiles anymore.
Jenna’s lips firmed and she stepped forward. “Alright, I wanted to ask if you’d be willing to donate blood. I checked Linda’s blood type and it matches yours.”
I stared at her, processing her words. They didn’t make sense. I was familiar with blood donation practices, everyone in the military is, given what we do. You want to know the extent we’ll go to for each other, have someone call out over the base’s speaker for people with a certain blood type to report to donate for a wounded soldier, and you’ll see everyone with that blood type drop everything to run and volunteer. So many, the medics had to turn people away.
I’d even donated quite a few times both for military purposes and civilian ones. The United States had a large pool of donated blood. The only time they asked family members to donate was if there was a rare blood type or antigen in the mix.
I was A positive. That wasn’t exactly rare. There should have been plenty available unless the city had suffered a rash of incidents all involving people with that blood type.
I didn’t answer Jenna, standing and making my way to the door.
“Aileen,” Jenna protested.
I stopped and tu
rned to her, the expression on my face hard.
Jenna’s expression turned pleading. “Just donate the blood. Please.”
I turned and walked out of the room.
My mother waited in the hallway, her arms folded over her chest and an expression on her face that said I’d reacted just the way she thought I would.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, perfectly calm.
“Because she needed to know the truth,” my mother said, her face serene.
I nodded. The truth. Right.
“And what truth is that, Mom?”
My mom lifted her chin. “That there’s a reason you won’t give her daughter, your niece, your blood.”
“And what reason did you give her?” I asked, not letting myself feel. I felt detached from myself, like this wasn’t happening to me, but a different Aileen.
I was curious in spite of myself.
My dad stared at her like he’d never seen her before, meeting my gaze with a worried one of his own.
“You won’t give blood because you’re hopped up on some illegal substance or alcohol,” she said, her face hard, her expression bitter and angry. It turned her into a stranger I didn’t recognize.
I nodded slowly. She wanted truth. My lips twisted. “Well, you’re right about that. I can’t give blood.”
Her expression turned triumphant.
“I’m sick,” I told her, watching that victory freeze before turning to horror. There was a gasp from Linda’s room. “Something I picked up while in Afghanistan. I can’t give blood without getting that little girl sick too.”
In a way it was the truth. Vampirism might not be so easily caught, but it was a magical virus all the same.
“What are you sick with?” my mom challenged.
She was a bloodhound on a scent. I had to give her that.
I shook my head sadly. “No, you don’t get to know that anymore.”
I looked over my shoulder at my sister. “You know why she cut me off?”
Jenna just stared at me, her eyes wide and shocked.
I turned to face my mom. Once, the fury on her face would have stopped me. It would have sent me scurrying for cover or apologizing for disappointing her even as I begged her forgiveness. Those days were over. She’d seen to that.
