Thirty #3
My dad’s hands were shaking as he pulled on bright-blue nitrile gloves. Amazingly, he took a long breath, just like Cella had taught me, and they steadied.
“Leave,” he said. “Upstairs, go.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“We don’t exactly keep anesthesia stocked,” he said. “This won’t be pretty.”
“I can take it,” I insisted, even as the thought of Mason in more pain made me shiver. “I won’t leave him.”
“I won’t start until you go,” my dad said. “Now, Kieran.”
I glared hotly at him, but he didn’t budge, and time was ticking. So I left.
Upstairs, it was even busier than before.
It seemed like every vampire in the clan had been drawn out by the commotion, and even the huge entrance hall felt crowded.
The swell of outraged voices quieted when I appeared.
The group parted around me as I cut through to one of the sofas nestled between the staircases and collapsed with my head in my hands.
Only vampires could be so deathly quiet in a full room.
“Kieran?” came a tiny voice.
Casper pushed through the crowd, tiny in comparison. His mom pulled him back.
“Don’t,” she said, full of panic, like Mason was still in the room.
Casper looked up at her with confusion and distinct offense. “But he’s upset.”
He said it so simply. Mrs. DeLuca and several others looked back at me with different eyes. She released Casper.
His nose wrinkled at the smell of Mason’s blood against the stairs and all over my sleeves. He approached anyway, climbing up onto the couch and patting my shoulder with one small hand.
“There, there,” he said, undoubtedly modeling after his parents. “Why are you sad?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Casper’s brow furrowed. “Um. My throat hurts,” I told him.
He nodded, wrapping both of his arms around one of mine. “I can sing a feel-better song.”
“That’s okay.”
The front door flew open. Annalisa ran inside, straight for me.
“Cella told me what happened. Oh, Kieran.” She dropped onto the sofa’s arm and threw her arms around my neck. I turned immediately into her shoulder, muffling a sob.
I sniffled, stammering out, “She needs to—she needs to go home. Can you take her home?”
Behind me, someone demanded, “Who is—did you show a human the way to our home?”
I didn’t have it in me to respond, but I didn’t have to. Annalisa spun around.
“Are you serious?” she said. I had never heard her raise her voice before. “All of you. Standing around like some shitty studio audience. Are your heads too far up your asses to see that one of your own is hurting? Go get him a drink! And a change of clothes.”
She shouted the commands aimlessly, but, to my astonishment, a few broke away from the crowd to obey.
“I can’t believe you,” she spat. This last sentiment was directed at her parents.
Dante, who had been silent until now, blinked as if shaking out of a stupor. He came toward me, kneeling before the sofa. His eyes roved over me, checking for injuries. The talon-marks on my face had scabbed, but my cheek felt warm and swollen. After a moment, Francesca followed.
“Kieran.” Her voice trembled. I didn’t know if it was fear, anger, or shame. I couldn’t look at her, my mother’s closest friend. “Can you tell us what happened?”
Annalisa glared. Her mom added, “When you’re ready.”
As if I would ever be.
One of Casper’s cousins came back with a bottle. I pressed my lips tight, but slowly, Annalisa coaxed me to drink. I only managed a few red sips before I cringed, and she set the bottle down.
Taking my keys out of my pocket, I said, “Can you take Cella home?”
Annalisa looked like she wanted to argue, but she took the keys. After she was gone, Dante helped me into a clean shirt. Francesca remained on her knees, forearms braced on the cushions. Then she unlaced my sneakers. They were caked with dirt.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she said. She turned to the clan. “Give him some space. Disperse.”
Her authority was second only to her brother’s. As the group shuffled out (“Upstairs,” she ordered), my dad reappeared from the basement.
I shot to my feet, but he spoke to Tim Marino. “I need you to support me down here.”
The doctor shrunk. “I’m not comfortable—”
“This isn’t a request.”
The chief’s word was final.
“Dante, check to see whether we have any B or O.”
Dante rose. Soon, it was just me, Casper, and my aunt.
“B or O?” I asked.
Francesca sighed. “We try not to make it known, but we always keep a small supply of human blood for emergencies. If one of us is badly hurt, cattle blood might not be enough. Tim supplies it from the hospital.”
I keeled over, crying like a baby. She held me like she had when I was young, upset after a scolding from my parents.
A few minutes later, Annalisa returned. She held me from one side, Casper on the other, Francesca at my feet rubbing circles into my knees.
Dante encouraged me to drink little by little.
We waited. Eventually, Casper fell asleep, and a while after that, I finally found it in myself to talk about what had happened.
I told them everything, from the beginning.