Page 76 of Monsters
“Benedict!” I scream, pushing past Hayes. He must not expect my strength, because I manage to open the door and sprint toward the church as he calls out after me. I don’t care if he follows. I’ll outrun him—I have to. Nothing else registers except these damn shoes which don’t allow me to run as fast as I want to. I’m still wearing my mask and cloak, which billows behind me as I stop, throwing the heels against the wall of the tunnel. My heart pounds inside of my chest, and my throat burns as I push my body to run faster, get to him sooner. People are already being led out of the church in handcuffs. The authorities must know who I am, because none of them stop me. I push the door open and let out a strangled sob when I see Benedict lying on the ground—his white shirt bloodied and cut up. I freeze momentarily, taking everything in, but then I finally stumble forward and kneel next to him.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, my voice shaky with disbelief. An officer in a black uniform kneeling next to him gives me a pitying look. It’s then that I realize he has Benedict’s palm in his hand.
Taking his pulse.
“No,” I say out loud. My vision tilts. “No. He has to be okay.”
“An ambulance is on the way. They’ll be here in a minute,” he answers. He drops Benedict’s palm and lays it across his chest.
I look down, taking in his wounds. He has a split lip, two black eyes. I realize the inside of his palm is cut up—these fucking barbarians were doing a blood oath with him, digging deeper, cutting a ‘V’ into the tender flesh there. His skin is flayed, and I know he’s lost a lot of blood. Red liquid seeps out of his clenched fists. I see a stab wound in his ribs, blood oozing out of a small cut there. A small puddle of blood surrounds him.
“Benedict,” I beg, crying. My tears splash against his bloodied shirt. He groans, his eyes still closed, and I smile. “Oh, thank fucking god.” I pull his hand to my lips and kiss it. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare fucking die.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and I realize with horror that his teeth are stained with blood—his blood.
“Shh,” I say, my tears falling quickly. I look around, and the church is empty of Directors. A few officers are standing around, surveying the place. One of them drops something into an evidence bag. Where the fuck is the ambulance? I look at Benedict. The stain on his shirt is larger, and his hand is so sticky with blood. “They’re almost here,” I sob, pulling his hand to my heart. “I love you, Benedict Martin.”
His gaze finds mine, and he watches me—his eyes wide, his breathing labored. I bend down and kiss him, squeezing my eyes shut as one of his hands comes around to my back. The pealing sound of the ambulance cuts through the low murmurs inside of the church, and I spring to my feet.
“Hurry! He’s in here!” I run to the door and direct three paramedics to where Benedict is lying, explaining what happened. They cut Benedict’s shirt off, removing the wires from his torso and apply pressure to his wound. I see another paramedic press gauze into his hands, and then the three of them slide him onto a board to transport him on a gurney.
“Miss? Are you family?”
I nod. “Yes. I’m the only family he has.”
I follow them through the front door to the front of the church, where a white ambulance with green and yellow checkers sits with flashing blue lights. They lift him inside, and one of the paramedics holds the door open for me as I climb in. Benedict’s eyes are fully closed now, and his skin is deathly pale. My hands shake as I pick up my phone and dial Lily’s number. My other hand goes to Benedict’s face, stroking it, infusing him with anything—anything to keep him alive.
“Hey,” she answers, and I can tell by her voice that she knows something’s wrong. “What’s wrong?”
I break down into hysterics. “It’s Benedict. He’s—he’s really hurt.”
“Oh my god. Evelyn, what happened? Is he okay?”
I don’t want to get into specifics—not now. I just need my best friend.
“It’s a long story. And I don’t know—he’s unconscious. I’m in the ambulance with him. We’re in Edinburgh, and—” I look at the paramedic, “which hospital are we going to?”
“The Royal Infirmary, miss,” the young man responds.
“We’re going to the Royal Infirmary,” I add, closing my eyes.
“I’ll be there soon, Evelyn. I promise. As quick as I can go.”
“I need you,” I rasp, squeezing my eyes as tears leak through. “He has to be okay.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Lily affirms, and I can hear the worry in her voice. “Let me go find Salem, and I’ll take the first flight I can find.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
We hang up, and I hang my head, one of my hands still on his cheek, still resting there. He’s getting cooler—and I see one of the paramedics insert an IV and place an oxygen mask over his mouth. When I look at his pants, I see a piece of paper sticking out of his pocket. I pull it out and read it. Tears well up in the corners of my eyes as I realize what it is.
A Poem for Eve
by Natalie Martin
I invite you into this season of joy.
The sky above is sown with stars, with the moon.
