“Who are these guys?” I asked when the song finished.
“They’re a band called Blood Lust. They have this gothic vibe – they have lots of operatic songs like this, and they even dress in old-fashioned frock coats when they play live. People on the internet love to say the lead singer’s a vampire. He does kind of look like one. Do you want me to turn it off?”
“Hell no.”
We sped down the M1, our heads banging in unison to the pounding music, my mind gloriously empty, my eyes dry. When the Blood Lust CD finished, Arthur put on a band called Broken Muse. “Rumor has it all the guys in this band are in a polyamorous relationship with the same girl,” he said.
“Oh. Cool.” I expected him to say more, to try to talk to me about what happened yesterday. But he just hit play and a great and beautiful blasphemy rose from the speakers and hit me in the face, obliterating every thought.
By the time we pulled into the parking building at Heathrow, my ass hurt from the uncomfortable seat, but my head felt light.
I pointed to the CD player. “Can I bring that on the plane?” I asked.
“What about Spotify on your phone?”
“I kind of dig the old-school tech.”
“Sure.” Arthur gathered up the cords and a pair of headphones. “But I don’t have any non-metal CDs?—”
“That’s okay. I want these ones.”
He grinned as he lifted our bags out of the trunk (or boot, as he called it). I clutched the Discman to my chest for dear life as we ran toward the terminal. That music might be the only thingthat got me through the next fourteen hours – an eleven-hour flight, plus waiting time and travel to the hospital.
Fourteen hours before I could see Kelly. It was hardly any time at all and yet, it was a whole world away. My stomach squirmed, and I squeezed Arthur’s hand.
We didn’t have any checked luggage, so we went straight through security and headed to our gate. There was a candy shop opposite the gate (‘lolly shop’, according to Arthur. Have you ever heard such a thing?), and Arthur dragged me inside and helped me fill a huge bag with weird English candy I’d never heard of before. He was being so nice, but every sugary lump he placed on my tongue tasted like coal.
Our flight was called, and I shuffled from foot to foot as we waited in line, my body an agitated wreck. Arthur let me have the seat by the window. I watched the plane take off over London and saw the glittering lights of the spinning Eye, which only made me think of the burning Ferris wheel that killed my parents.
Now that I was on the plane, Briarwood and the guys and magic and the fae seemed like a million miles away. The last two weeks felt like a dream, and now I was waking up to the real, living nightmare.
I started to cry.
The cabin lights went off as we soared over the Atlantic. They served some cardboard food and alcohol that neither of us touched. I cried and listened to music while Arthur watched some dumb action film with lots of explosions. I tried to close my eyes, but all I saw was Kelly’s face, bright and bubbly, and my gut twisted.
I shoved Arthur’s earbuds into my ears and blasted Blood Lust all the way into Phoenix.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
MAEVE
“I’m here to see Kelly Crawford,” I gasped as I gripped the edge of the nurses’ station counter and struggled to catch my breath.
We’d got an Uber to the hospital straight from the airport. There was road construction going on right outside the hospital, so the driver wouldn’t even drop us by the entrance. He’d left us on a street corner a block away, and I’d sprinted all the way here with all the speed and none of the grace of an Olympic athlete. Lucky Arthur was as fit as he was, or I would’ve lost him. As it was, he was only just now puffing down the hall after me.
The nurse thumbed through a stack of paperwork. “What did you say the name was again? Hospital policy only allows family members to visit?—”
“She’s my sister!” I yelled. I tossed my passport across the table at her. She took her time opening it and checking the image while I drummed my fingers against the counter with the rhythm and ferocity of a Blood Lust song.
Finally, after an entire Ice Age had passed, she read a room number off her clipboard.
“Immediate family only,” she wagged a finger at Arthur, who looked ready to argue. I placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay. I think I need to do this alone.”
“I’ll be right here.” Arthur settled down in a plastic chair in the waiting room. His bulk spilled over the edges. “Are you going to be okay?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m going to have to be.”
