Page 46 of Veil of Vengeance

The sound of my coffee overflowing onto the stove fills the kitchen, and I wince when I turn and see the mess it's created. Dumping the pot into the sink, I make my way back to my room, throwing on a random blue suit before leaving the apartment.

* * *

By the timethe jet lands in New Hampshire, I have a splitting headache that I have to power through to get to our house. Heading up the grand staircase toward the front door, Romiro meets me near them, a smug look on his face.

“Wipe that smug fucking look off your face before I wipe you off this planet.”

He shrugs at my threat as I head straight to the room I placed Val in, Romiro hot on my trail.

“What did the doctor say?” I pause at the top of the stairs when I don’t get a response and turn to look at Romiro. “Tell me you got a doctor to see her,” I demand. Romiro rubs his hand over the back of his neck.

“Alessia was checking on her every day…”

I can’t leave these fucking idiots for two days without them needing me to tell them what they should be doing.

“You’re more of a fucking idiot than I thought you would be.” Turning back around, my steps pound as I make my way into Valentina’s room. Mara, Alessia, and Ma are all sitting in chairs around a sleeping Valentina. But she doesn’t just look like she’s sleeping, she looks like she’s dying. Her normally tan face is a pale greenish color, and when I step closer, her pillow looks like it’s been drenched with a gallon of water.

“Oh my God, you’re finally back. Please tell me you’ll call a doctor for the poor girl.” I barely register what my Ma says as I feel a lead ball of guilt settle in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah, Romiro, go call Callahan. Tell him I’ll triple his salary if he can get here in the next hour.” Placing the back of my hand on her forehead, I check her temperature. She’s burning up.

“How did she get sick?” I ask no one in particular.

Mara is the one who answers. “We found her in the bathroom passed out in her clothes under the shower, her clothes drenched.”

My throat constricts, and I swallow, trying to elevate the pressure building.

“Alessia, do you know why she’s sick?” I ask as I turn to my cousin, who looks at Valentina and back at me.

“She most likely has a weak immune system. I’m not entirely too sure, but she probably had a virus,” she says.

I turn and face Ma and Mara before announcing, “She’s not staying in this room. I’m moving her to my room,” I say to them. Ma opens her mouth to protest, but I beat her to it. “Ma, come on, you can’t seriously expect me to let her stay here. None of you have even taken proper care of her.” That makes her clam her mouth shut, turning around to face Valentina. I slip my arms under her and lift her off the bed. Valentina stirs around and makes a deep groan at the back of her throat when I’m half-way down the stairs.

“What…no. I don’t want to.” She thrashes, and I have to tighten my grip on her so she doesn’t fall.

I lean down until I’m close enough to whisper, “Shhh. You’re fine. Go back to sleep.” Standing still, I wait for her to go back to sleep before moving off the stairs and toward my own wing.

* * *

Callahan arriveda couple of hours ago, checked on Valentina, and prescribed some medicine for the fever, which I sent Romiro to pick up. Now, it’s around midnight and everyone has retired to their rooms. She hasn’t opened her eyes again since she woke up while we were on the stairs. I’d dragged the armchair into my room next to the bed to make sure her temperature didn't rise. A groan that slips from between her lips makes me throw my book down on the bedside table.

“W…water. I’d like some water…pl…please,” she groans.

Reaching out, I pour her a cup of water and help her to sit, holding the cup to her lips. I don’t let the cup go, even when she grabs it with both hands, shaking like a leaf. Valentina’s eyes only open ever-so-slightly before they shutter closed once again as she drinks. I pull it back when she coughs and nearly chokes.

“Slow down, tiger, the water isn’t going anywhere. I promise.” Every muscle in my body pulls taut when she rests her head on my shoulder. I have to force myself to relax because she’s sick.

“You’re so nice.” Her voice is barely an audible whisper.

“I’m really not that nice.” I don’t know why I’m whispering, but I don’t want to startle her.

“No, maybe not by normal people's standards, but in our world, you are, at least compared to my Pop.”

My jaw clenches as I fight off the urge to bulldoze into asking her about what she means. Instead, I settle for, “I doubt that very much.”

“You seem to be doubting a lot of things. You know, I think I like all the green in your room. I used to think green was an ugly color, but I’ve grown quite fond of it.”

The little nugget of information she has given me feels more like a gold bar than anything else, but I don’t ask for more. As I open my mouth to reply, a snore interrupts me, and when I look down at her, I find her sleeping. Taking in her relaxed state, I lay her back down on the pillow. Her temperature has gone down, but it's still quite high.

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