A World of New
Page 45
Lawrence’s breathing was becoming more like… rattling.
“What is going on with him?” I stammered. I hated to be a distraction but I simply couldn’t help myself. Nobody answered me as they moved around his bed.
Shayla emerged from the group and came to me. Gripping my hand, she took me to the door and said, “Grace, wait out here, okay? There’s nothing more you can do right now. We are doing all that we can for him.”
She closed the door on me again. Dammit. Tears of panic brimmed in my eyes as I gazed desperately at the door, wishing that I had X-ray vision. What on earth did Shayla expect me to do? Where was I supposed to go now? Lawrence had become my life the past few weeks. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. I shuffled up and down just outside the door for God knew how long. I lost all sense of time.
Then a familiar voice called to me from the other end of the corridor.
“Grace?”
I whirled to see my mother striding toward me, my father at her side, my grandparents Derek and Sofia behind them. Micah also accompanied them, carrying what appeared to be a wounded, unconscious Bastien. Micah took the werewolf into one of the spare rooms while my family continued approaching me. They all looked surprised to see me, and their eyes widened even further as they realized the state that I was in.
My mother reached me and clutched my hands. Her turquoise eyes roamed my face, her dark brows knotting. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.
Oh, God. My throat choked up just at the thought of explaining it all. Where do I even begin? I looked helplessly from my mother to my father, then to my grandparents, who were eyeing me with equal concern.
I was surprised that they were back so soon—I had expected them to be gone longer, given that they had also planned to visit the ogres’ realm while they were in the supernatural dimension. Perhaps the journey had been cut short for some reason. In my anxiety, I couldn’t even bring myself to ask what had been going on with them. My mind was too rooted to the present. To this hospital. To Lawrence’s room.
“What’s been happening?” my father pressed, kissing the side of my head.
“Lawrence,” I managed.
“Who’s Lawrence?” my grandfather asked.
“The boy we rescued… E-Everything’s gone wrong with him!”
At this, I could no longer hold back the tears. My mom gathered me in her arms and took me to sit down on a bench in the hallway.
Please be okay, Lawrence. Please be okay.
I managed to compose myself enough to speak. I filled my family in briefly on what had happened since Shayla and I had parted ways with them, even as question after question continued to assault me. What is so different about Lawrence that the jinn and witches are finding so hard to treat? They’d had so little luck in treating him until this point, would they even be able to treat him now?
I didn’t miss how taken aback my parents looked at how strongly I was reacting to Lawrence’s plight—the plight of a man who, only a short while ago, had been a complete and utter stranger to me.
In truth, I was confused myself. But everything was confusing to me in that moment. Everything was a mystery. Everything was…
My heart jolted as the door to Lawrence’s room opened. Shayla emerged, her hair disheveled, her face ashen. I ran to her as she approached us.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“We’ve managed to stabilize him,” she replied. “He’s breathing somewhat normally again. He’s stopped shaking but…”
I held my breath.
“He’s become completely paralyzed. He can no longer even move his arms. He came to briefly, and all motion in the upper portion of his body has gone.”
It felt like somebody had just punched me in the gut.
Complete paralysis.
His arms.
Oh, no. No.
“Let me see him,” I breathed.
Shayla allowed me into the room, where the jinn and witches were still hovering around his bed. I squeezed in next to them, and stood by his head. His eyes were closed. He was apparently unconscious again.
“Those hunters were apparently not lying after all,” Safi muttered.
“What is happening?” I looked to each of their faces desperately. “Why did this happen? What is it in his system that’s causing this?”
Safi shook her head. “There are lots of strange, artificial substances circulating in his body. It could be any one of them.”
“I can’t help but feel that removing that tracker had something to do with it,” Shayla added in a low voice, eyeing the unconscious Lawrence.
I turned on her. “What? How?”
“I destroyed it, so I cannot check it now. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it served two purposes. Not only to trace his location, but also as some kind of regulator. There was an immediate difference in him after I took it out, wasn’t there, Grace?”
I nodded slowly, realization dawning on me.
“He looked much more ill the next day,” she went on, “and his appetite, which had been building up slowly, vanished. And it never recovered. Perhaps, in time, he would have gotten this way even with the tracker still in him, but whatever that thing was, removing it seems to have hastened his degeneration.”
“So what now?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer. Is he actually dying?
When nobody replied, my knees felt weak. I gripped my mother’s arm. She stood beside me for support. We all fell into silence, staring down at Lawrence. If Shayla’s speculations were true, he was a ticking time bomb. He had already lost the use of his limbs, how much longer before the rest of him gave way? Would whatever was breaking his system down attack his vital organs?
“What is going on with him?” I stammered. I hated to be a distraction but I simply couldn’t help myself. Nobody answered me as they moved around his bed.
Shayla emerged from the group and came to me. Gripping my hand, she took me to the door and said, “Grace, wait out here, okay? There’s nothing more you can do right now. We are doing all that we can for him.”
She closed the door on me again. Dammit. Tears of panic brimmed in my eyes as I gazed desperately at the door, wishing that I had X-ray vision. What on earth did Shayla expect me to do? Where was I supposed to go now? Lawrence had become my life the past few weeks. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t stand. I shuffled up and down just outside the door for God knew how long. I lost all sense of time.
Then a familiar voice called to me from the other end of the corridor.
“Grace?”
I whirled to see my mother striding toward me, my father at her side, my grandparents Derek and Sofia behind them. Micah also accompanied them, carrying what appeared to be a wounded, unconscious Bastien. Micah took the werewolf into one of the spare rooms while my family continued approaching me. They all looked surprised to see me, and their eyes widened even further as they realized the state that I was in.
My mother reached me and clutched my hands. Her turquoise eyes roamed my face, her dark brows knotting. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked.
Oh, God. My throat choked up just at the thought of explaining it all. Where do I even begin? I looked helplessly from my mother to my father, then to my grandparents, who were eyeing me with equal concern.
I was surprised that they were back so soon—I had expected them to be gone longer, given that they had also planned to visit the ogres’ realm while they were in the supernatural dimension. Perhaps the journey had been cut short for some reason. In my anxiety, I couldn’t even bring myself to ask what had been going on with them. My mind was too rooted to the present. To this hospital. To Lawrence’s room.
“What’s been happening?” my father pressed, kissing the side of my head.
“Lawrence,” I managed.
“Who’s Lawrence?” my grandfather asked.
“The boy we rescued… E-Everything’s gone wrong with him!”
At this, I could no longer hold back the tears. My mom gathered me in her arms and took me to sit down on a bench in the hallway.
Please be okay, Lawrence. Please be okay.
I managed to compose myself enough to speak. I filled my family in briefly on what had happened since Shayla and I had parted ways with them, even as question after question continued to assault me. What is so different about Lawrence that the jinn and witches are finding so hard to treat? They’d had so little luck in treating him until this point, would they even be able to treat him now?
I didn’t miss how taken aback my parents looked at how strongly I was reacting to Lawrence’s plight—the plight of a man who, only a short while ago, had been a complete and utter stranger to me.
In truth, I was confused myself. But everything was confusing to me in that moment. Everything was a mystery. Everything was…
My heart jolted as the door to Lawrence’s room opened. Shayla emerged, her hair disheveled, her face ashen. I ran to her as she approached us.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“We’ve managed to stabilize him,” she replied. “He’s breathing somewhat normally again. He’s stopped shaking but…”
I held my breath.
“He’s become completely paralyzed. He can no longer even move his arms. He came to briefly, and all motion in the upper portion of his body has gone.”
It felt like somebody had just punched me in the gut.
Complete paralysis.
His arms.
Oh, no. No.
“Let me see him,” I breathed.
Shayla allowed me into the room, where the jinn and witches were still hovering around his bed. I squeezed in next to them, and stood by his head. His eyes were closed. He was apparently unconscious again.
“Those hunters were apparently not lying after all,” Safi muttered.
“What is happening?” I looked to each of their faces desperately. “Why did this happen? What is it in his system that’s causing this?”
Safi shook her head. “There are lots of strange, artificial substances circulating in his body. It could be any one of them.”
“I can’t help but feel that removing that tracker had something to do with it,” Shayla added in a low voice, eyeing the unconscious Lawrence.
I turned on her. “What? How?”
“I destroyed it, so I cannot check it now. But I have a sneaking suspicion that it served two purposes. Not only to trace his location, but also as some kind of regulator. There was an immediate difference in him after I took it out, wasn’t there, Grace?”
I nodded slowly, realization dawning on me.
“He looked much more ill the next day,” she went on, “and his appetite, which had been building up slowly, vanished. And it never recovered. Perhaps, in time, he would have gotten this way even with the tracker still in him, but whatever that thing was, removing it seems to have hastened his degeneration.”
“So what now?” I asked, afraid to hear the answer. Is he actually dying?
When nobody replied, my knees felt weak. I gripped my mother’s arm. She stood beside me for support. We all fell into silence, staring down at Lawrence. If Shayla’s speculations were true, he was a ticking time bomb. He had already lost the use of his limbs, how much longer before the rest of him gave way? Would whatever was breaking his system down attack his vital organs?
