Page 66 of The Light Within

Julien narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips in his telltale sign he was about to argue, then disappeared without a word.

Lingering uselessly on the periphery, Cinn steadily retreated until he had his back against the curtains, well out of the way. The urgent flurry around him was a dreamlike bubble that he was very much on the outside of.

Keeping remarkably calm, Darcy and Fiona tried to keep Alexander conscious, speaking to him in soothing tones. When Alexander’s head lolled to one side, however, Fiona let out a small cry, composure cracking.

Cinn found himself clutching the curtain, the fabric crumpling tightly in his grip as he fought to keep his own rising panic at bay. Was he about to watch Darcy’s father die, right before his eyes? The man who’d spent thirty minutes with him in the middle of the night, helping him drag out baking ingredients? Who was so clearly adored by his wife and daughter?

Cinn’s own breathing became unsteady as the corners of his vision swam.

No. Not now!

Instinctively, he glanced down at his wrist, where his warding band was conspicuously absent, smashed to pieces by the umbraphage yesterday.

The last thing everyone needed currently was for Cinn to shadowslip, and become another unconscious body, causing a scene. His headphones were in the other room. He could go get them. Though, what would it look like if he started listening to music through all this?

Julien burst back into the room, sending Darcy’s small blue suitcase sliding across the wood towards her. She kneeled, her hands shooting straight to the seam where the zipper would be, her fingers fumbling desperately to find it, her entire arms visibly shaking.

One moment, Cinn was clutching the curtains, then the next, his knees were hitting the floor alongside Darcy, pushing her hands out ofthe way to swiftly unzip the bag. She offered him the quickest flash of a smile before she tipped the contents onto the floor, immediately sighting her target: a transparent organiser stuffed with tiny pots and vials.

“The ambulance will be another twenty,” Elliot said from the doorway. “I tried telling them it was an emergency, and they gave me lip back.”

All eyes drifted back to Alexander. Had his breathing grown even shallower? His face was certainly paling as he lay slumped in the chair, his eyes fluttering weakly. He was trying to say something—Fiona’s name?

His wife took his pulse with two fingers against his neck. Then her gaze levelled with Darcy’s, who was holding a vial containing a clear liquid. Fiona gave her one decisive nod, though she didn’t look happy about it.

“What is that?” Cinn asked Julien quietly. “Do you know?”

“Something Darcy and her friend cooked up the other day. It’s perfectly safe. Probably. Worst-case scenario, it doesn’t do much. Hopefully. It’s some sort of blend of mote-enhanced extracts, to stimulate cardiac function.”

Fiona produced a syringe, needle, and tourniquet. Darcy passed her the vial.

“It should temporarily improve blood circulation. She’s just trying to buy time.”

From the other side of the wall, Elliot’s voice rose even higher, still arguing with the emergency dispatcher.

“Someone take this,” said Fiona, holding up the used needle.

Cinn’s arm shot out to grab it. He wrapped it in a piece of bubble wrap being kicked around before placing it in the small waste bin. His light-headedness had completely cleared—if anything, his senses had sharpened.

“They’re a minute away now,” shouted Elliot. “I threatened them,” he added proudly.

They allowed Elliot to pretend his demands had been met.

Cinn moved closer to Alexander’s rocking chair. “Is he doing any better?”

Taking her father’s pulse again, Darcy made a non-committal sound.

The minute passed quickly. The paramedics let themselves in, strapping Alexander to their cart in seconds. Fiona relayed information about his condition as they wheeled him outside. A small argument erupted about Darcy travelling in the ambulance as well as Fiona, her voice getting increasingly insistent until they gave in. They said a speedy goodbye to her tear-streaked face as she climbed into the vehicle.

“He’s stable for now,” Darcy reassured the three of them. “Stay here.”

Once the noise of the siren faded along with the blue lights, Cinn, Julien and Elliot went inside to a starkly quiet kitchen.

“I need another drink.” Julien poured out the dregs from the mulled wine jug.

Although Cinn had never felt so sober, he had no desire to numb the sharp sting of reality. He slid down the wall to slump on the cold tiles, resting his head against the fridge.

Elliot wound a piece of confetti string from a cracker around his finger. “They really need that pacemaker to go through, huh? Can’t you tap up your MEET connections, Julien?”

---