Chapter 22 #5
My eyes cross those of the blond Devil, and I can tell he wishes he could take the words back. But they’ve ingrained themselves in me, and I can’t shake them free.
He probably won’t be around long enough to forgive you.
In spite of Devil, in spite of Doctor Farley, he’s fading. I’m going to lose Damien.
Logan leads me to the other room, his eyebrows furrowed as though he’s deep in thought. Just before opening the door, he turns to me.
“I have to tell you now, Seraphina. I don’t want you to be shocked at what you see.
Damien is… not doing well. He’s lost a lot of blood, and the bullet has touched some major organs.
We’ve arranged for a helicopter to take him to a hospital where we can be sure of…
discretion. In the meantime, the doctor is doing what he can to keep him alive. But it’s not looking too good.
I swallow, my throat dry. “He’s going to live. He has to.”
He nods slightly and opens the door.
I walk in, my stomach sinking as I take in Damien’s ash grey complexion.
He looks so helpless in that big bed, his eyes closed, his dark, sharp features softened until he’s nearly unrecognizable.
It’s so strange to see the man I’ve always felt, somehow, to be invincible, always in control of everything, at the entire mercy, now, of others.
I kneel beside the bed, noticing it’s wrapped in plastic.
“Did what I could to make a sterile environment,” comments Doctor Farley. “This motel is far from ideal.”
“It’s the best and closest place we could find,” snaps Logan. “We’re not exactly in a big city here.”
“Right, right.” The doctor continues to shuffle around, drawing up a sheet to keep me from seeing whatever he’s doing to Damien’s stomach, but I’m not looking anyway. I take Damien’s cold hands in mine and lay my head on them.
“Look at that,” suddenly breathes Logan.
I lift my head up and my heart suddenly swells with a strained sort of hope when I see Damien’s lashes flutter up.
His eyes are unfocused at first, but I draw nearer to him, my face practically touching his.
At last, he seems to see me. He moves his mouth, forming jumbled words that I can’t catch, before finally croaking, “Darling.”
“Damien,” I burst out, burying my head in his chest.
He lets his hand fall on my hair, and it shakes with effort as it threads its way through my matted curls. “Don’t… don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I promise. I’ll take care of you.”
The words come out of his mouth painfully, and I can tell he’s struggling with each one.
Then he closes his eyes again, as if speaking those few words took all the strength he had.
Soon, he’s lost in sleep. I keep my head on his chest, my hands around his, and soon drift off into a fitful sleep myself.
The next thing I know, I feel my arm being grabbed again, and this time, I don’t allow myself the sweet belief that it’s Damien.
I stumble outside, following Logan, and far above me I see a helicopter in the sky with heavy ropes dropped down.
A dark shape of some kind is being pulled up by those ropes, and after staring for a moment, I realize it’s some sort of gurney on which Damien’s been secured.
He disappears into the helicopter and then the ropes come down again, this time with some sort of harness at the end.
Logan quickly fits it around me and ties the straps. Then he tugs on one of the ropes.
“Go ahead,” he says, as I stare at him in shock. “Take care of him, okay? The rest of us will follow by car.”
I nod wordlessly, hoping he can tell how grateful I am that he’s letting me be the one to stay with Damien.
Then I’m pulled up into the air. My usual fear of heights is the furthest thing from my mind.
I would gladly be swinging thousands of feet in the air, or lost under dozens of feet in the dirt, if it meant saving Damien.
I’m pulled into the helicopter by four arms, then guided into the little cabin. A new jolt of pain travels through me when I see him still unconscious, his skin glistening with sweat. I allow myself to be fastened to a seat, and then I wait numbly until we arrive at the hospital.
At once a team of nurses and doctors crowd around. They lift Damien up then set him down on a trolley. A minute later, he’s out of view, engulfed in the doors of one of the operating rooms.
I look around at the waiting room that I’m clearly expected to stay in. There are rows of plastic chairs and the fluorescent light above makes me feel oddly lonely. I sit down at the edge of a seat, clasping my hands together, staring at the wall.
A half hour later, the others—Logan, Everest, Vincent and Igor—walk in.
Logan heads straight toward me. It’s strange how I once loathed him.
Now, with Damien unconscious, he’s the one I turn to for comfort.
And though he acts strong, I can tell he’s coming to me for the same reason. We’re united by our love for Damien.
He sits down beside me, and his arm goes around me, squeezing my shoulders.
“I couldn’t take care of him,” I whispered. “There were nurses around him. I barely saw him before they wheeled him off to surgery.”
“He’s in good hands,” says Logan in a warm, reassuring tone.
Then he stares off in the distance, lost in thought.
The clock ticks on and we all wait, as though suspended in time. My numbness gives way to waves of intense emotion. I struggle in the grasp of fear, loss, guilt. Anger. That last emotion is the one I cling to.
Anger. So much anger. But I can’t let them see. Not now. Not when they’re suffering too. Though not nearly as much as me.
I steel my voice, trying to keep the anger buried beneath. Trying not to make my question sound like an accusation.
“Why did he come for me alone?”
Logan’s face sets in a grim expression. “He’s a stubborn idiot.
Wanted to save you on his own. By the time the rest of us got news of what was happening, he was already gone.
Didn’t want to lose any time. And wanted to be the only one responsible for you.
” He shrugs. “He’s always underestimated Gabriel.
First leaving him alive like that, assuming he’d die… and then, facing him alone.”
I stare at the carpet, noticing for the first time that the murky green and red pattern make it look a bit like vomit.
“He underestimated you too,” he adds after a beat. “We all did. You killed Gabriel, didn’t you?”
I shudder, but he chuckles, allowing a touch of humor in his voice for the first time. “The head of the biggest criminal organization in South America, and he met his match at the hands of Damien’s little pet. Priceless.”
My trembling hands clench into fists. “Don’t call me that. My name is Seraphina.”
He sobers up, all trace of humor gone. “Yes, it is.”
I turn away, half comforted by his words, but anger still seethes at the pit of my stomach. Anger that’s focused now on Damien.
He can’t die. He can’t fucking die. He’s not allowed to. He promised me he’d take care of me forever. He said so. But he always says things, and none of it is ever true. I should have known this was a lie too.
Damien the liar. Damien the fucking liar.
It makes me see red. I try to take steadying breaths, try to keep this new, nearly overwhelming emotion on lock. Logan glances at me, and I see I haven’t fully succeeded, because he at once whips his head away, looking more than a little unsettled.
Good. Calling me a little pet. How fucking dare he?
How fucking dare all of them? Don’t they realize how much I need him?
Don’t they realize I ache for him with every particle of my body?
How can they sit there passively, stupidly, as their leader dies in the room next door?
Aren’t they supposed to be the most powerful company in the state? Where the fuck is their power now?
They couldn’t even hold on to me. Their stupid, helpless, weak little captive.
Stupid, helpless, weak Seraphina.
It’s all because of me. Because of the curse I was born with. It’s not my lot in life to be happy. Anything good around me must die.
I don’t believe in Heaven, but I do believe in Hell. Because I was born in it. I belong to it.
And now, I’ve dragged him under with me. Under the depths of the Earth. There will be no salvation for us, because that isn’t my lot in life.
Anyone who touches me gets burned.
Tense with the burden of what I’ve done, I head to the bathroom, splash water on my face, look at the reflection in the mirror that doesn’t seem to belong to me.
Gaping violet holes in a ghost-like face.
By all rights, I shouldn’t even have a reflection. When I look in the mirror, I should see nothing. Nothing, because that’s what I am.
I close my eyes and sink to my knees, cold, harsh bitterness wrapping itself around me. I can feel my heart harden, feel it shrink, my entire body caving inward under the pressure of the all-encompassing pain.
He’s gone. Damien is gone.
A tear burns my eye and winds its way down my cheek, searing the cold skin there, just as I hear a far-off voice.
“… He’ll need a blood transfusion…”
It takes me a moment to parse out the meaning of those words.
A blood transfusion. He’ll need a blood transfusion.
Dead people don’t need blood transfusions.
Damien is alive.
It’s not possible. It doesn’t feel possible.
And yet, a tiny sliver of hope etches its way into my heart. Just a tiny speck. Just enough that the stiffness in my limbs melts a little, and I sink further, a helpless heap, on the floor.
I can’t seem to move. I can’t seem to get up, to open the door, to cross the small waiting room and go ask the doctor what the fuck he means.
A blood transfusion? You don’t give blood transfusions to corpses, do you? Blood transfusions are for the living, aren’t they? Tell me. Tell me!
But every single ounce of energy I’ve ever had has left me. All I can do is lie on the ground, my cheek flush against the cold floor, trying to wrap my head around the meaning of the five words I’ve just overheard.
There’s a knock on the door, hesitant at first, then more insistent. But I can’t get up. After a moment, the door cracks open. I hadn’t even thought to lock it.
Logan pokes his head in, a wide grin on his face that feels at odds with the shock that’s overtaken my entire nervous system.
“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Seraphina. He’ll live.”