This is not happening, Beth thought.This is absolutely not happening.
L.W. was the one who was supposed to be at risk for death. Not a perfectly healthy Chosen who had been up in the Sanctuary, resting and getting ready for her sacred duty for weeks.
“Stop.” Doc Jane put her stethoscope to Salima’s chest.
The sharp shake of her head restarted everything—
“Noooooooooooooooo!”
L.W.’s scream was so loud, it echoed down the hall, and he tried to get to the Chosen again, thrashing through the bedding, throwing off bloodstained sheets. Good thing he couldn’t control his new body yet, or he would have flattened Beth, and on her side, she just stayed where she was, holding him in the only way he would let her while he struggled against her. As her eyesight went blurry, she knew she was crying, but she couldn’t feel the tears on her face.
And then everything went still. No more resuscitation, no more L.W. fighting her.
That was when she heard the chime of a clock.
Glancing out into the hall, she looked at the old-fashioned gold one that she’d tacked up on the wall. It had been a relic of the past, a holdout from the bejeweled First Family suite that she should have left behind where it had been mounted. She hadn’t understood why she’d taken it when she had, but now, as the discreet ringing of bells intruded with the time, she thought,Of course.
Midnight. It was telling her that the new day had come.
A day she always dreaded and hated every year—
Down on the floor, V and Jane fell back at the same time, the two of them hitting in a pair of thumpsthat were rather like what had announced the Chosen’s collapse. Meanwhile, Ehlena laid the blood-stained mask carefully to the side, and it was then that Beth saw the full extent of the damage to that wrist.
The hand was barely attached to the forearm.
“Help her!” L.W. yelled as he made another sloppy, uncoordinated attempt to get off the bed. “Why are you stopping! You have to save her!”
As he began to weep in great, hoarse exhales, she closed her eyes, held her son and whispered, “Happy Anniversary.”
Chapter Twelve
“Leelan?”
Beth came back to the present with a jump, and as her eyes focused on Wrath, she was totally confused. Somehow, she was now standing in the open door to Jane and V’s bedroom, having clearly moved across the floor without being aware of walking. As she glanced around, everybody was staring at her.
“You’re looking pale,” V said in a nasally fashion as Wrath’s nostrils flared in that way they did.
She looked at the bite mark on Wrath’s neck. “I’m fine. I’m just…fine.”
Bullshit, she thought.
“When was the last time you ate?” Jane asked. “Food, that is.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
Wrath came over and put his arm around her shoulders, and then George was the eyes for the both of them, the golden taking them back down the hall of diplomas and out through the maze of duffels. Rhage was somewhere around—oh, he was in the kitchen, in front of the open freezer door.
“Why is there only Grey Goose in here,” he muttered as he slapped things shut. “We need Breyers to make a booze line of ice cream—oh, are we going?”
The shot of normal was kind of nice, actually, a palate cleanser to everything in her head, and things were going pretty well as they went out into the Wheel’s corridor. She even made it a couple of yards in the direction of their residence.
But then she stopped short and looked at Rhage. “Will you, ah, will you give us a minute?”
The Brother glanced at Wrath. “Yeah, absolutely. And I think I’ll just head back and hang with V. He’ll feel better if he’s irritated at me. Call if you need anything?”
“Thank you, my brother,” Wrath said as he offered his palm.
After the two went chest-to-chest for a moment, Rhage turned away and disappeared through the residence door.
