I shivered, wanting nothing more than for his words to be true. The darkness fully vanquished, gone from my life and my mind. But the battle I’d fought was only the beginning of what I knew would be a very long and terrible war. Unless we found that cure.
Slowly, I peeled open my eyes to gaze up into his face. The ceiling of his loft passed overhead as he carried me toward his bedroom. “It isn’t over though, Caim. The darkness is still very much inside of me. I don’t think this is going to be over for a really long time.”
“You’re wrong.” His jaw flickered. We reached the door, and he kicked it wide, his arms still firmly around my body. “It’s almost over now, Eva. You can trust me on this. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”
But he couldn’t stop this. No one could.
“I know you want that to be true, Caim, but—”
“But nothing.” His voice was insistent as he lowered me onto his soft mattress, and then he pulled his dark silky sheets across my body. “No more messing around. We’re going to go see the fae just as soon as you’ve had a rest. By tomorrow morning, you’ll be cured.”
* * *
Machines beeped. Carts squeaked by. My mother peered up at me with tired, red-streaked eyes. She’d spent so many days in the hospital before, but never like this. Something was wrong.
I perched on the uncomfortable, utilitarian chair beside her bed and squeezed her hand. She smiled, and my heart clenched tight.
“I know you’re scared, but everything is going to be fine,” she said, her voice scratchy and raw. “You’ll be okay without me.”
“Please don’t say stuff like that,” I whispered as my hands fisted around the sterile sheets. “You can fight this. You always have.”
“Not this time.” Sighing, her eyelids fluttered shut. “They’ve realized the truth. They chose wrong.”
I frowned. She’d been doing this a lot lately. Speaking in riddles that made no sense at all. I hadn’t mentioned it to Dr. Wilkes. I was afraid of what he might say—that she was losing control of her thoughts in her final days.
Because I had to cling on to the hope she’d survive.
Dr. Wilkes poked his head through the door. His gaze latched on my mother’s face. “Everything alright in here?”
“Everything is fine, Steven.” Mom never liked to call him by his last name. It was her way of throwing him little barbs. Even though she’d chosen him as her doctor, there was some unspoken animosity between them that I didn’t understand. A few times, I’d asked her why she didn’t find another specialist for her disorder. She never answered why.
He narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t pry. Instead, he gave me a solemn nod and backed out of the door.
Mom’s hand suddenly gripped my arm and she tugged me down to the bed. Her eyes flipped wide. They were wild with fear.
“I need to tell you something, Eva,” she whispered into my ear. “But don’t say anything out loud. He’s keeping watch. Just listen to me.”
My heart thundered in my chest.
“You need to leave now. Before he gets to you, too,” she breathed fiercely, fingers tightening into claws. “Run. I saved up some money for you. It’s hidden in a compartment beneath the floorboards in the living room. Take it and go to Canada. And don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not even Sarah and Anya.”
A set of heavy footsteps cut through Mom’s words. Dr. Wilkes strode into the room and hovered just behind me. He dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder, and I flinched. My cheeks burned, both from fear and shame. How much of that had he heard?
None of it could be true...right?
“Your mother is having an episode,” he murmured as he slowly twisted her hand away from my arm. “I’m sorry, Eva. I know this is upsetting. Please go to the waiting room. I’ll call you back in after I give her a treatment.”
“Steven,” my mom hissed. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she shot him a glare so full of venomous heat that I was surprised he didn’t melt beneath it. “You cannot do this. Let Eva go. Someone else will do.”
“You’re not well,” he said sadly. “And you’re scaring your daughter.”
Swallowing hard, I stood and backed out of the door. Dr. Wilkes moved toward Mom’s IV bag and called a nurse. Heart throbbing, I eyed the exit, pondering my mom’s words. Should I go like she’d asked? Should I run?
No. I squeezed my hands into fists and settled into one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. Dr. Wilkes was right. Mom was unwell. She had been my entire life. I couldn’t leave her side now to chase after ghosts, despite how much I desperately wanted to believe this was all some grand conspiracy.
Because if it were, then it meant I might be able to save her. And I knew that was impossible.
23
