Page 101 of The Last Hope
Franny’s heartbeatthump, thump, thumpsagainst my forearm, still wrapped tight along her collar. She clutches onto my arm like she’s clinging desperately to a hopeful outcome.
Storm clouds hang over Court. Unbelieving, doubtful, pessimistic, and moody, and I try to see the good for them. So we’ll all be standing upright at the end of this.
Court frowns. “But only Saltarians learned their deathdays. It never worked for humans.”
“Right.” Stork nods. “The Death Readers showed a date forhumans, but they never died on that day. You three didn’t die on your alleged deathday. See, the prongs on a Death Reader are coated in a teal pigment callednylide. It’s what reads a Saltarian’s body chemistry to determine deathdays, but Death Readers don’t read a human’s body chemistry. They change it.”
Silence drapes over the barracks.
Stork says, “Humans who were pricked with the same exact Death Reader became what is known in history as lifebloods.”
Lifebloods.Funny thinking how Court and I named our bond with a simple sort of word—thelink—and all along, there’d been a prettier-sounding name out there, something that feels fuller and as intense as the raw sentiments we share.
“Lifeblood?” Franny mutters.
Stork wets his lips like he’s trying to lick up liquor, and after a short beat, he says, “Court is your lifeblood. Mykal is your lifeblood. And you’re theirs.”
Zimmer wobbles on the board and braces himself with a foot on solid ground. “What makes them lifebloods exactly?”
“Our emotions,” Court says in a deep whisper, lost in thought.
Slowly, Franny releases her clutch on my arm. “So the date on the Death Reader…”
“Is the day your body chemistry changed,” Stork answers. “The day you became tethered to your lifebloods. The three of you share emotions andthreesenses: touch, taste, and smell.”
Zimmer is wide-eyed. Staring like we’ve gone and sprouted antlers.
“How do we reverse it?” Court asks promptly, his urgency a familiar beast. So is his guilt and self-loathing, gnawing on my muscles. I crack a crick in my neck, and I wish I could be nearer. I’d be whispering in his ear.
Telling him not to hate how we’re forced to feel his misery. His sufferings.
Because then I’d never feel the roll of his eyes. Or the flutter in his chest when he looks at me across a room. Or the strengthhe musters just to smile, and his tearful surprise when he recognizes he can and he does.
“Reverse it?” Stork repeats with the shake of his head. “You can’t go back… it’s permanent.”
His nose flares. “No. There must’ve been someone who found a solution. Over a thousand years has passed since then.”
“It’s also been over athousandyears since lifebloods existed,” Stork rebuts. “Like I said, testing deathdays on humans is illegal. No one wants to return to what happened in 2414.”
Franny braves a step forward. “What happened? All the lifebloods just died out?”
“People didn’t understand that Death Readers were the cause of lifebloods. Not at first. So humans unknowingly used the same devices.” He leaves the frosted door. Nearing Franny. “You’re only tethered to two people, dove. Think about a time where someone had fifteen, twenty, ahundredother emotions and senses from a hundred other humans in them. It led to hysteria, chaos, anarchy—and millions died…” He stops in the middle of the room, voice trailing.
Something’s scratching at his mind.
Sinking dread shackles Court at the ankles, unmoving. I suppose he knows why Stork faltered. Very quietly, Court asks, “If I die, what happens to my lifebloods?”
The air sucks out of the room.
“We’ll all be dying?” I question. Never did I think we’d all perish as one.
“Gods,” Franny inhales.
Stork shakes his head with a wincing smile. “No. The way it’s described in history…” He lets out a sad laugh that rings out like an apology. “It sounds worse than death. They say if your lifeblood dies, you lose a part of your soul forever. A… hollowness is left that can never be filled.”
Eyes are burning. Overcome with something I can’t explain, welling up my gaze. I exhale a coarse breath, grumbling, and I rub at my face with a callused palm.
Silent tears track Franny’s cheeks.
