Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Rafael
Samantha falls limp in my arms, her eyes refusing to open, no matter how much I plead. I rush out of the door with her and head for my car. As soon as I get her buckled into the seat, I bark for the car to call Thea. We are already moving by the time she answers.
“Where do I take her?” I snap as soon as the line connects.
“What?” she asks.
“Samantha collapsed. What hospital am I taking her to?”
“Fuck!” Now she sounds alert. “St. James High. I’ll call ahead so they know to expect you. How long—”
I floor the gas and the roar of the car cuts her out momentarily.
“I’ll meet you there,” she shouts over the noise and hangs up.
Weaving in and out of traffic, I push our speed even higher. I don’t care if the cops notice. They can tail us to the hospital. Thank fuck it’s not rush hour, but there are still way too many cars in my way.
Samantha’s head lolls to the side and I curse.
“Five more minutes, darling. Hang in there,” I murmur. The moment there’s a gap in the traffic, I floor it. And I don’t slow down until we reach the hospital entrance. It seems Thea did call ahead because there’s a team waiting by the doors and they rush at us the moment I park.
It takes every shred of self-control I have to let them pull Samantha out of the car. When one of the nurses tries to tell me to move the car, I throw my keys at her and follow Samantha inside.
The smell of the hospital burns my senses, but the faint scent of Samantha cuts through the antiseptic and the staleness in the air. They stick needles into her and an IV, and things calm down. The doctor glances at me and the sympathy in his eyes cuts me to my core.
“You can sit with her now, if you’d like. We’ll alert the family.”
I nod, not finding the words, and pull up a chair next to her bed. We are in one of those nooks that’s only separated by flimsy curtains and I want to demand that they transfer her to a private room, but everyone has already scattered and I’m not leaving her.
“Wake up, Samantha.” I urge her and hold her hand. It’s way too cold for my liking. She doesn’t stir. Only her chest keeps moving slightly, barely reassuring me that she’s breathing.
Silently, I curse.
I can’t slip her my blood. It would be worse than useless in this situation. She said the doctors have given up. And the brews her witchy friend makes only alleviate some of the symptoms. There’s nothing I can do, and the helplessness starts a simmering rage deep in my stomach.
I should have pushed. Demolished all the walls she built between us. From that first night, I should have never let her go.
Someone clears their throat, and I glance over my shoulder to see the nurse there. She brings over my car keys and pats my hand gently.
“I’m sorry,” she says, in a tone that conveys she thinks Samantha is already lost. Before I can bite her head off, Thea bursts through the curtain.
“They are ready to move her to the room upstairs. Her family is on their way. Walk with me, Rafael.” She takes over the situation and I find myself following her as a pair of nurses wheel Samantha away.
Thea leads me to a quiet room, like she knows the hospital layout in her sleep. She tilts her head and says, “She’s fading fast. There’s also a DNR she signed some time ago.” She holds up a hand to stall my angry retort. “I know, I know. You are furious. I can taste that in the air around you.”
“Three years,” I bite out.
“Would you believe me if I told you I actually rooted for you?”
I snort.
Thea’s face hardens. “I’d rather have my best friend be a vampire than dead. Is that so hard to believe?”
Every thought I had screeches to a halt. What? She wants me to turn Samantha into a vampire? “She said no,” I snap.
“Of course she did.” Thea rolls her eyes, crosses and uncrosses her arms. “Here’s the thing. I’m not willing to let her go. Are you?”
I take a step back and look her over. “She said no,” I repeat, but my voice lacks the conviction it should hold. The idea already took root and now I can’t shake it. There’s just one problem. “I’m not sure she’s strong enough to make it through the transformation.”
“Well, she certainly won’t survive this.” Her reply is snappish, but I hear the pain underneath.
“And what if she came out… wrong on the other side?”
Thea’s eyes search mine again and I think I see relief in them. “She won’t. That’s not an option I’ve even seen.”
“What—”
“I’m not going to lie. It’s a huge fucking gamble, but I’m out of other cards to play.”
“Fine. Let’s say I turn her. She’s going to hate our guts for it.”
For a second, Thea’s presence grows, then she sighs. “You. She’s going to hate your guts because I can’t make that decision for you. However, I’m going to give you a once-in-a-lifetime best friend’s get-out-of-jail-free card and tell you to ignore what she said. I’ll even back you up… if I can.”
I quirk a brow at her, but she doesn’t elaborate, so I have to ask. “You are truly fine with a vampire turning someone against their wishes? Wars have been fought for that very reason.”
Her lips press into a tight line and she nods sharply. “Yes.” She shudders a bit, rubs at her temples, and mumbles in a way I’m not sure she meant to speak out loud. “So many paths and all of them murky. Can’t interfere more…”
“Thea?”
She blinks, her eyes clearing, and straightens her spine. “Choose, vampire, and choose soon. Time is running out.” Then she walks out of the room without a backward glance. I stay behind just a second, and then follow her.
By the time we reach the room where Samantha is settled, her family begins to arrive.
Thea introduces me as a friend, but none of them pay much attention to me as they gather around Samantha.
She looks so frail on the hospital bed. Pale and lifeless, with her eyes closed.
There’s nothing left of the vibrant creature I got to know over these years.
Despite everything, she was always brimming with life. Her presence filled any room she inhabited.
Am I ready to let that light fade permanently?
Her family pulls me out of my thoughts, as what they are doing registers.
Or more like what they are not doing. There are no tears and pleads for her to wake up.
They all just sit around her, holding her hands or touching her legs, and start talking about everyday things.
School plays, who’s going to host the next barbecue, what sports team is winning some championship, what they are going to cook for Sunday dinner.
I want to roar at them. What’s wrong with all of them?
Don’t they realize she’s dying?
When I take a step forward, Thea intercepts me with a hand on my arm.
Not caring about my glare, she pushes me into a corner.
“They talk like that because she might hear them,” she whispers.
“She’s been in a coma before and afterward said that if she ever has to hear wailing and moaning again when she can’t tell them to shut up, she will bar them from her hospital room. ”
I read her earnest expression and turn my gaze back to Samantha’s family. Not callousness—comfort. The only comfort they can offer her right now.
A low growl breaks free from my throat. I hate every second when Samantha’s beautiful blue eyes stay closed. I need to see them open and sparkling again.
Thea sways on her feet. “Time’s out,” she whispers, just as one of the many monitors attached to Samantha begins to beep.
The sun goes down and paints the sky bloody red as I slowly drive up to the mansion. I’m itching to check on Samantha, even though I know Thea would have called me immediately if there had been any changes.
For the last three months, there haven’t been any.
Thea froze the time in Samantha’s hospital room for a couple of seconds, barely giving me time to bite her and push my venom into her bloodstream.
Doubt gnaws at my insides every second. Were we too late?
What if I didn’t push enough venom into her?
Maybe the venom didn’t have enough time to spread.
I should have been able to feel a connection between us from the moment she began her transformation. There’s been nothing. Not then, not now. I can’t sense her.
It’s like she’s truly dead, except her body is not changing. She’s not decaying; she’s not transforming. I’ve been keeping vigil over her all this time, only leaving her side to feed and keep up appearances when I absolutely have to.
Like now, when Patricia came to visit the Lair. The four longest days and nights of my life, staying far away from Samantha. And I couldn’t let anything slip in front of my maker. Thank fuck Santiago gave me a heads-up so I could get to the city in time.
Only the witch knows about Samantha’s existence, so we decided my country home was the most logical and secure place to hide her away. It’s built on a magical ley line and layered with spells and enchantments. Thea’s been keeping watch over Samantha every time I’ve been away.
Who knew I could work together with a witch if given proper motivation?
Usually, I love the old building and the gardens around it. Now the long, winding driveway makes me gnash my teeth and the walls feel like they are caving in on me. Even the gardens have lost some of their luster.
Maybe I should let the gardener return. And the butler. At least the witch has been keeping the house free of dust. I want my home in tiptop shape when Samantha wakes.
She has to wake up. There’s no other option.
“How is she?” Thea asks over the phone.
I gaze down at Samantha’s pale face and smooth my hand over her hair.
“Still nothing,” I murmur.
“Bloody moons,” the witch curses.
“Did you find anything in your research?”
“No. Not a single documented case of a successful transformation that took this long.” She bites back a sob and clears her throat. “But Sammie will pull through. She’s too stubborn not to.”
“It’s been six months,” I snarl.
“I know, vamp. No need to bite my head off,” she says, trying to pull out her old sass, but I know she’s almost as worried as I am.
“Keep looking,” I say and hang up.
Looking around the room, I make sure everything is in order. It’s cool and dark here. The sheets are fresh and Samantha’s hair is brushed. The cellar is the most heavily protected part of the mansion. Underground, no windows, reinforced doors.
The bedrooms down here are not small, but nothing like upstairs. Still, it made sense to move her here. I have to let in the staff at some point.
And Patricia has been sniffing around. Or feeling diabolical is more like it. Her favorite entertainment is to blow up Santiago’s or my life. If she can mess with both of us at the same time, even better.
Santiago has been tracking her relentlessly this last month, but she keeps giving him the slip. Or he’s letting her slip. I can’t be sure anymore.
Goddess save me from my ex and my maker. They both bring a mountain range’s worth of baggage to every interaction we have.
After one last check, I trudge back upstairs.
There’s nothing to do but wait.