Page 120 of Chaos At Second Sight

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I’d heard this sound thousands of times, but this time, I happened to be on the bed—the patient, not the doctor. The monitor kept counting my heartbeat, and clear fluid dripped from the IV into my veins.

When my eyelids fluttered open, what greeted me was white. White everywhere. A color easier to clean and sanitize, creating a sense of sterility.

That endless white was just a ceiling. I glanced left, and saw Mom slumped in a chair, reading the Herald Pàipear. Not that I could make out the title from where I lay; I knew it by its smell. The Herald always emanated a peculiar scent—a blend of guaiac wood and cedar, with a velvet paper.

The olfactory bulb is part of the brain’s limbic system, associated with memories and feelings. The Herald reminded me of bygone mornings with sheets of newspapers spread across the packhouse dining table, trading sections with Grandpa and Lachlan and sampling honey.

I tried to move. Nothing. My neck and my arms both refused.

For all I knew, I’d died and someone had preserved my consciousness inside a jar.

“Oh…” Mom looked up; the newspaper slid from her lap. “My puppy, you’re awake.” Her voice was different, quiet. Bad sign. She was never fragile. “What a relief. I missed you so much.”

Mom approached in slow motion, worry dripping from her. She kissed where my cheek should have been, but I couldn’t feel her touch.

Mom, I tried to say. Instead, I got lost once more in that land of dreams. It was too hard to stay awake.

When I woke up again, the white had become pitch black. Night.

This time, dark fiery hair and big elbows welcomed me back. My twin, arms folded under his head, was snoring next to me.

“Lachy…”

He jerked upright, a string of drool in the corner of his parted mouth. Relief and surprise clashed on his face.

“Oh, thank the Goddess.” His large palm landed on my forehead. “And no more fever.”

A glass of water materialized in front of me, his long fingers around it.

“What…” I tried to ask after sipping a little.

A stoic Lachlan slid an arm behind my shoulders and helped me sit up, tucking a pillow behind my back.

Finally, I managed to lift my hand, pushing a lock from my face. “Why am I here?” My dry throat burned. “For how long?”

“You’ve been out for over three weeks.” His eyes bounced between mine and below my chin. “Do you remember anything?”

“Only the dreams.”

Lucien. Blood. The bite…

Something within me stirred. A prickling sensation under my jaw.

My hand flew to my neck, and a gasp followed when I found something thick and raised.

My fingertips traced the alien bump. “He marked me.”

My eyes found Lachlan’s wary ones. His silence was answer enough.

“Mirror, please.”

“Sis, I don’t think⁠—”

“Lachlan.”

When he handed the mirror over, my hands shook and I almost dropped it.