Lifeblood
Page 61
I don’t care! “I still don’t understand,” I say, managing to temper my voice.
“I saw the Myriad soldiers you slayed. You should be proud. You should be celebrating.”
My hands ball into fists. His words are a slap in the face. Killian is the one who killed the soldiers, but I can’t praise him without exposing his secret, and that I will not do.
I want to scream. I want to scream until my voice is gone. I’m supposed to save us all, but I couldn’t even save my grandmother. I couldn’t save one person. A person I loved. A special woman with a special purpose of her own.
Everything starts and ends with one. If I’m Troika’s last hope, we’re all doomed.
I can’t deal with this. It’s too much.
“I’m going home,” I croak.
“You can’t. We have to visit the Sanatorium. The Troikan version of a hospital. After every battle, we’re required to see a Healer.”
I have zero desire to undergo a physical checkup, but I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy.
Thankfully, as Victor herds me to the nearest Gate, a sheen of ice numbs me. The only way I can get through this.
The Grid attempts to warm me, gently prompting me to feel and heal, but I don’t want to be warmed. I don’t want to feel or heal.
Victor is silent as we exit the Gate in the Capital of New. Other soldiers stride ahead of us and behind us, and everyone is headed in the same direction.
In every section of the realm, the people who stayed behind line the streets, cheering us for our efforts.
Fatima rushes from the crowd to throw her arms around me. My cold threatens to crack.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she says, her dark eyes filled with relief.
I wish I could say the same.
She rushes off, then, to rejoin her group.
The Sanatorium is housed in a building similar to the cathedral, with a plethora of stained-glass windows, a pergola covered in clinging ivy and a rose garden leading to the entrance.
Dogs and cats play chase along the cobblestone paths, pausing to offer licks and purrs—and conversation—to anyone willing to stop.
It’s true, then. The animals talk. I’m amazed, fascinated and curious, but I don’t deserve their brand of comfort and sidestep the creatures in my path.
As soon as we enter the cathedral, two Healers step forward, as if they’ve been waiting for us. We’re led down a hallway. Victor is escorted into a room on the left and I’m escorted into a room on the right.
The word room is somewhat inaccurate, however. Closet works better. There’s enough space for a gurney and a medical cart with wheels, nothing more.
Despite the diminutive size, the area is designed to inspire relaxation; a waterfall cascades down the center of each wall, splashing into bowls of amethyst geodes.
My Healer removes the belt around my waist and in a gentle voice says, “Lie down, please.”
Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with. I peer up at the ceiling mural. Doves in flight.
She checks my vitals and injects me with liquid manna. She asks me questions—how do you feel, what happened, what do you need? I remain silent. Answers will only invite more questions.
She refills the vial around my neck. When she lifts a rag to clean Meredith’s Lifeblood from my skin, I latch on to her wrist, stopping her. She flinches.
“Sorry,” I say and release her.
“I only wish to cleanse you,” she says in her gentle, soothing voice.
“No.” The Lifeblood is all I have left of my grandmother. I’m going to wear it with pride.
The look she gives me is filled with tenderness. “Visit the Baths of Restoration, then. The water will buoy you, spirit, soul and body.”
I have no desire to be buoyed. “Are we done?”
She sighs. “Yes.”
I thank her, stand and walk out. I don’t wait for Victor; I go home.
By the time I’m locked inside my apartment, the ice is threatening to crack for good. I want to cry. Oh, I want so badly to cry, but tears are a luxury I shouldn’t be allowed to experience.
The sunlight streaming in through the window calls to me. I need it like air, but I avoid every golden, glorious beam. Another luxury I shouldn’t be allowed. I flop onto my couch.
When the Book of the Law appears, I stab at it with my fingers until it fades. I hate this. Right now I think I hate myself, too. If I’d taken Levi’s out and refused the mission, Meredith would still be alive.
A hard knock sounds at my front door.
“Go away,” I call.
Someone picks the lock, or maybe uses a key. Hinges squeak as the door opens.
Levi leans against the frame, his arms crossed. “We have Mr. Diez. Two of our Laborers followed the group hiding the human. They called for backup, and a new team of Laborers swept in to squire Mr. Diez away. He’s staying in one of our safe houses, away from other humans.”
So I wasn’t needed, after all. Meredith wasn’t needed.
My nails bite into my thighs. “Thanks for the info.” I motion to the hall; a not-too-subtle hint I’d like to be alone.
“I’m not done,” he says, unaffected by my rudeness. “We suspect we were given Mr. Diez’s location in the first place, and told another human had been infected, in order to lure you out of Troika. I apologize for asking you to fight.”
My throat tightens, air wheezing in and out. He has no reason to apologize. My decision, my consequences.
“I saw the Myriad soldiers you slayed. You should be proud. You should be celebrating.”
My hands ball into fists. His words are a slap in the face. Killian is the one who killed the soldiers, but I can’t praise him without exposing his secret, and that I will not do.
I want to scream. I want to scream until my voice is gone. I’m supposed to save us all, but I couldn’t even save my grandmother. I couldn’t save one person. A person I loved. A special woman with a special purpose of her own.
Everything starts and ends with one. If I’m Troika’s last hope, we’re all doomed.
I can’t deal with this. It’s too much.
“I’m going home,” I croak.
“You can’t. We have to visit the Sanatorium. The Troikan version of a hospital. After every battle, we’re required to see a Healer.”
I have zero desire to undergo a physical checkup, but I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy.
Thankfully, as Victor herds me to the nearest Gate, a sheen of ice numbs me. The only way I can get through this.
The Grid attempts to warm me, gently prompting me to feel and heal, but I don’t want to be warmed. I don’t want to feel or heal.
Victor is silent as we exit the Gate in the Capital of New. Other soldiers stride ahead of us and behind us, and everyone is headed in the same direction.
In every section of the realm, the people who stayed behind line the streets, cheering us for our efforts.
Fatima rushes from the crowd to throw her arms around me. My cold threatens to crack.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” she says, her dark eyes filled with relief.
I wish I could say the same.
She rushes off, then, to rejoin her group.
The Sanatorium is housed in a building similar to the cathedral, with a plethora of stained-glass windows, a pergola covered in clinging ivy and a rose garden leading to the entrance.
Dogs and cats play chase along the cobblestone paths, pausing to offer licks and purrs—and conversation—to anyone willing to stop.
It’s true, then. The animals talk. I’m amazed, fascinated and curious, but I don’t deserve their brand of comfort and sidestep the creatures in my path.
As soon as we enter the cathedral, two Healers step forward, as if they’ve been waiting for us. We’re led down a hallway. Victor is escorted into a room on the left and I’m escorted into a room on the right.
The word room is somewhat inaccurate, however. Closet works better. There’s enough space for a gurney and a medical cart with wheels, nothing more.
Despite the diminutive size, the area is designed to inspire relaxation; a waterfall cascades down the center of each wall, splashing into bowls of amethyst geodes.
My Healer removes the belt around my waist and in a gentle voice says, “Lie down, please.”
Fine. Whatever. Let’s get this over with. I peer up at the ceiling mural. Doves in flight.
She checks my vitals and injects me with liquid manna. She asks me questions—how do you feel, what happened, what do you need? I remain silent. Answers will only invite more questions.
She refills the vial around my neck. When she lifts a rag to clean Meredith’s Lifeblood from my skin, I latch on to her wrist, stopping her. She flinches.
“Sorry,” I say and release her.
“I only wish to cleanse you,” she says in her gentle, soothing voice.
“No.” The Lifeblood is all I have left of my grandmother. I’m going to wear it with pride.
The look she gives me is filled with tenderness. “Visit the Baths of Restoration, then. The water will buoy you, spirit, soul and body.”
I have no desire to be buoyed. “Are we done?”
She sighs. “Yes.”
I thank her, stand and walk out. I don’t wait for Victor; I go home.
By the time I’m locked inside my apartment, the ice is threatening to crack for good. I want to cry. Oh, I want so badly to cry, but tears are a luxury I shouldn’t be allowed to experience.
The sunlight streaming in through the window calls to me. I need it like air, but I avoid every golden, glorious beam. Another luxury I shouldn’t be allowed. I flop onto my couch.
When the Book of the Law appears, I stab at it with my fingers until it fades. I hate this. Right now I think I hate myself, too. If I’d taken Levi’s out and refused the mission, Meredith would still be alive.
A hard knock sounds at my front door.
“Go away,” I call.
Someone picks the lock, or maybe uses a key. Hinges squeak as the door opens.
Levi leans against the frame, his arms crossed. “We have Mr. Diez. Two of our Laborers followed the group hiding the human. They called for backup, and a new team of Laborers swept in to squire Mr. Diez away. He’s staying in one of our safe houses, away from other humans.”
So I wasn’t needed, after all. Meredith wasn’t needed.
My nails bite into my thighs. “Thanks for the info.” I motion to the hall; a not-too-subtle hint I’d like to be alone.
“I’m not done,” he says, unaffected by my rudeness. “We suspect we were given Mr. Diez’s location in the first place, and told another human had been infected, in order to lure you out of Troika. I apologize for asking you to fight.”
My throat tightens, air wheezing in and out. He has no reason to apologize. My decision, my consequences.
