Chapter 2 #2
Briar shuddered. His voice? Her imagination? The line between them blurred, and she couldn't tell which frightened her more.
The elevator ride up to pediatric intensive care stretched eternal.
Every reflective surface seemed to hold shadows that moved wrong, depths that shouldn't exist in polished steel.
The mark on her wrist ached beneath her sleeve, a constant reminder of what she'd done. She’d sold her soul to the devil in the forest.
Not your soul, she corrected herself as the elevator climbed. Your life.
Somehow that felt worse. A soul was abstract, theological. A life was every sunrise she'd never see, every birthday she'd miss, every ordinary moment stolen away to feed an immortal's patience.
The elevator dinged. It was time to save her sister.
Everything else would have to wait.
A nurse smiled at her in the hallway as she made her way towards Allegra’s room, and Briar had to force her face into something resembling normal. Had to pretend she wasn't carrying impossible fruit and binding marks and the memory of inhuman beauty that made her stomach flip.
The hospital room was eerily quiet when Briar slipped inside. No alarms, no rushing staff, just the soft hiss of oxygen and her sister's too-still form in the bed. Allegra looked like a porcelain doll against the white sheets, all translucent skin and blue-veined eyelids. So small. So fragile.
Their mother was nowhere to be seen. Probably in the chapel again, bargaining with a different kind of deity. One that didn't require blood prices and forest vows.
Briar approached the bed on unsteady legs, the fruit heavy in her hands. Under the fluorescent lighting, it looked wrong—too vibrant, too alive. Its glow seemed to pulse in rhythm with the mark on her wrist, two pieces of the same impossible whole.
What if it doesn't work? What if it's poison? What if—
The mark flared hot, cutting through her spiral of doubts. She'd already paid the price. This had to work. There was no alternative now.
With trembling fingers, she split the fruit.
It came apart easily, too easily, revealing flesh that shimmered like liquid ruby.
Seeds gleamed within like drops of fresh blood.
The scent that rose from it defied description—summer rain and dark honey and something achingly sweet that made her mouth water despite her fear.
Juice on her lips first.
Briar squeezed a single drop onto Allegra's pale mouth. For a heartbeat, nothing. Then her sister's lips parted slightly, tongue darting out to catch the sweetness.
"That's it," Briar whispered, her voice thick. "That's my girl."
Allegra's eyes fluttered without opening.
A soft sound escaped her—not quite awake, but reaching for consciousness like a swimmer breaking for air.
Briar pressed the fruit to her sister's lips, feeding her small pieces, watching her swallow instinctively.
Drop by drop. Seed by seed. Every last shred of glowing flesh, until nothing remained but stained fingers and the lingering scent of impossible summer.
Then... nothing.
Allegra lay still as before, though perhaps her breathing seemed deeper. Less labored. Briar took her sister's small hand between both of hers, careful of the IV line, and settled in to wait.
"Come on, Ally," she whispered. "Come back."
Minutes crawled by. The mark on her wrist settled into a dull ache, almost companionable now.
Outside the window, afternoon bled into evening, painting the sky in shades of amber and rose.
Briar's eyes grew heavy. The chair was uncomfortable, but her body knew its contours intimately after days of vigil.
She knew exactly how to curl into the least painful position, knew which armrest to use as a pillow.
She didn't mean to fall asleep.
Small fingers flexed in her grip.
Briar jerked awake, disoriented. The room had dimmed, machines casting their blue-green glow across the walls. But Allegra—
"Bri?" Her sister's voice was hoarse but beautifully, wonderfully there. "Why are you crying?"
Briar hadn't realized she was. She touched her cheek, found it wet. Allegra's cheeks held color now—soft pink instead of dying gray. Her eyes were clear, focused, tracking Briar's face with the sharpness of health.
"Hey, sweet girl." Briar squeezed her hand, afraid to let go. Afraid this was the dream and everything else the reality. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry." Allegra wrinkled her nose. "And you look terrible. Have you been sleeping in that chair?"
A laugh bubbled up, half-hysteria, half-relief. "Something like that."
"Where's Mom?"
"She'll be back soon." Briar smoothed her sister's hair, marveling at how warm her skin felt. Alive. Whole. The price suddenly seemed insignificant. "You've been sick, Ally. Really sick."
"I had the weirdest dream." Allegra's eyes drooped, but it was normal exhaustion now, not the terrible pull of dying. "There was a forest, and a man made of shadows and green things. He said..." She yawned, jaw cracking. "He said to tell you 'three days is a gift, not a suggestion.'"
Ice flooded Briar's veins. "What?"
But Allegra was already drifting back to sleep, peaceful and easy. Healed.
The mark on Briar's wrist pulsed once, a reminder and a warning. Even here, even now, he was watching. Waiting.
Twenty minutes later, Allegra stirred again, eyes fluttering open. "Bri? Is someone—"
She stopped, focusing on the figure frozen in the doorway. June Delarosa stood there, keys clutched in white-knuckled fingers, staring at her youngest daughter like she was seeing a ghost.
"Mom?" Allegra's voice was soft with confusion.
June made a sound Briar had never heard before—part sob, part prayer, all desperate relief. She stumbled forward, caught herself on the bed rail, hands shaking so hard the metal rattled. "Baby? Oh god, oh my baby—"
"Mom, careful of her IV—" Briar started, but June was already gathering Allegra into her arms, sobbing so hard her whole body shook with it.
"My baby, my sweet girl, you're awake, you're—" The words dissolved into incomprehensible weeping. Twenty-five years of fear, of guilt, of borrowed time, all of it pouring out in the circle of her daughter's arms.
Briar pressed herself back into the chair, her marked hand tucked carefully beneath the other, sleeve pulled down to her knuckles.
The mark throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of the price being paid.
She watched her mother fall apart with relief and felt like she was viewing it through glass.
Three days.
"Mom, you're squishing me," Allegra complained, but she was smiling, patting June's back with her free hand. "I'm okay. Bri said I was sick?"
June pulled back just enough to cup Allegra's face with shaking hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones like she was memorizing them by touch. "You were—the doctors said—" She turned to Briar, mascara streaking down her cheeks in black rivers. "How? When did she—?"
"About an hour ago." Briar kept her voice steady, normal. Heard herself as if from a distance. "She just... woke up."
"That's impossible." June turned back to Allegra, touching her forehead, her cheeks, her throat where the pulse beat strong and steady. "The doctors said... they said we should prepare..."
"I'll get the nurse." Briar stood, desperate to escape before her mother's keen eyes noticed something off. The mark pulsed harder, not wanting her to leave Allegra so soon after the claiming. "They'll want to—"
June's hand shot out, catching Briar's right wrist. Her grip was stronger than it should be, desperate. "You did it." Her eyes held a wild light, fevered with recognition. "You went to the forest. You found him."
Briar's blood turned to ice water. "Mom—"
"I knew it. I knew he would—" June's grip tightened enough to hurt. "What did he ask for? What did you give him?"
"Nothing." Briar pulled free, backing toward the door. The mark burned under her sleeve, offended by the lie. "The doctors will explain. Sometimes people just get better."
"Briar—"
"I'll get the nurse."
She fled before her mother could grab her again. Before those knowing eyes could strip away her defenses and see the truth written in thorns around her wrist.
The hallway blurred past. She found a bathroom, locked herself in a stall, and pressed her marked wrist against the cool metal of the partition. The mark hummed with satisfaction, pleased by Allegra's recovery and by the promise of what was coming.
Briar closed her eyes and breathed through the reality of it. In three days, she'd walk back into that forest and never come out. But Allegra would live. Would grow up. Would have the chance Briar was trading away.
Worth it.
She repeated the words until she believed them.