20. Taryn #2
But he wasn’t here, and these people had helped the men I loved and me. Plus, they would both be invaluable in finding Lila.
“How much do you need?” I asked.
“More than I’d ordinarily be comfortable taking from one donor.” Finley grimaced.
Beck stepped between us. “Then find another way.”
“There isn’t one,” Finley said with regret in his voice.
“We’re all enhanced.” He waved his hand around the room. “Are you positive none of us are a match?”
“I’m positive.”
“I wouldn’t allow this if I didn’t think it was safe,” Adrian said while gathering sealed tubing, needles, and two empty collection bags of Lactated Ringer’s he’d found in the back of a cabinet.
“Exactly how much blood are we talking about?” Lucas frowned at Finley.
The concern was clear in his voice, and that surprised me.
“Enough that I’ll need to watch her closely.” Finley nodded toward me. “But Taryn replaces blood volume faster than an ordinary person. If I keep her hydrated and control the draw, she should recover just fine.”
“Should?” Beck growled out.
Grabbing his shirt, I spun him around to face me. “I’m doing it.” I kissed him hard on the mouth. “I trust you to keep me safe while I recover.”
Adrian paused what he was doing. “Just him?”
I walked over and pulled him down for a kiss, too. “Not just him. Hell, I even trust Lucas for that matter.” I smirked in his direction. “If I died, who would he have left to hate?”
Lucas scoffed but didn’t contradict me.
“So, we’re all in agreement. I’m doing it.” I looked around the room.
Beck’s green eyes flashed, but beneath the anger was something worse.
Fear.
Not the violent kind he could beat into submission. This was quiet and helpless, and Beck had never known what to do with helpless.
“I’ll be okay,” I murmured.
“You don’t know that.” He insisted.
“No,” I looked at Harper. “But I know what happens to her if we do nothing.”
Beck finally released a harsh breath. “If you feel the need to stop, you’ll tell me immediately.”
“I will,” I reassured him.
Wren snorted. “All of this arguing is pointless. If I didn’t trust Finley, I’d never allow it to happen.”
Weirdly enough, her words seemed to comfort Beck more than anything else.
Finley pointed toward the second examination table. “Sit.”
I climbed onto the cold metal surface while Adrian tied a strip of rubber above my elbow and searched for a vein.
“You’ve done this before?” I asked, curious about his life in Houston.
“I’ve started IVs.” He leaned over and kissed me gently. “And I wouldn’t allow anyone else to do it.”
Beck planted himself between my knees, one hand settling on my thigh. His face was calm, but his fingers pressed into me hard enough to bruise a normal person.
Adrian cleaned the inside of my elbow.
The smell of alcohol sliced through the heavier scents in the room.
“This is going to pinch.” His face looked pained at the thought of hurting me.
“I think I can handle it.” I smiled.
The needle slipped beneath my skin, and dark blood began moving through the tubing and into the collection bag.
Beck watched every drop as though Adrian was draining my life, bit by bit.
“I’m fine, big guy,” I smirked. “Except you’re crushing my leg.”
“Deal with it.” Beck scowled. “I’m not moving an inch.”
Across the room, Harper let out a low moan. Her back lifted off the table, a tremor passing through her before she collapsed again.
Finley crossed the room and pressed two fingers against her neck.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded.
“Her fever spiked.” Finley poured water from a bottle, dampened a rag, and wiped her forehead.
A thin film of sweat coated Harper’s face. The red streaks beneath her skin looked darker now, branching higher toward her shoulder.
“Is it too late?” Lucas asked.
Finley glanced toward the bag filling beside me. “Not yet.”
From the other side of the wall, Max began whining.
Rory murmured something to him that none of us could make out, and he settled.
Finley removed a blood-pressure cuff and a stethoscope from his pack and wrapped the cuff around Harper’s uninjured arm.
“What?” Adrian asked when Finley’s expression tightened.
“Her pressure is falling.”
“Then hurry,” I urged him.
“If I rush, I could kill both of you.” The sharpness in his voice silenced the room.
Finley closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the fear was gone, buried beneath the cold focus of a doctor with only one chance. “I have to keep the amount I remove from Harper equal to the amount I put back. Too much in either direction could stop her heart.”
The bag beside me grew heavier.
With each pulse of blood leaving my body, a chill spread beneath my skin. Adrian connected a bag of fluids to my other arm, and cold liquid flowed into my vein.
“It’s Lactated Ringer’s. Water and electrolytes. It’ll help maintain your blood volume while your blood is drawn,” Adrian explained, mostly for Beck’s peace of mind.
I shivered.
Beck immediately pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.
“It’s only the saline,” Adrian said, but he helped him pull it tight around me anyway.
Finley checked the weight of the collection bag and clamped the tubing. “That’s enough to begin.”
“Begin?” Beck growled.
Finley lifted the bag. “I’ll see how Harper responds before I take more.”
He hung my blood beside Harper’s examination table and prepared two lines.
One to carry my blood into her.
One to remove her blood.
The thought made my stomach clench.
Finley inserted the first needle into Harper’s uninjured arm.
She barely reacted.
The second went into the other.
Dark blood crept into the clear tube leading away from her. Mine began its slow descent from the hanging bag.
Out and in.
Her failing blood was replaced, one measured ounce at a time, with blood that had already learned to survive.
Finley adjusted both clamps until the flow rates matched. “The blood I remove will reduce the concentration of the active pathogen,” he explained, never taking his eyes off the lines. “Taryn’s blood carries adapted immune cells and whatever else changed after the meteor exposure.”
“You think that change can transfer?” Adrian asked.
“I think it can influence Harper’s response.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“I know.”
His honesty was more frightening than confidence would’ve been.
“I’m not turning Harper into one of us,” Finley continued. “I’m trying to interrupt the progression long enough for her body to establish its own balance.”
“And if it can’t?” Wren asked.
She stood near the door, Mojo clutched against her chest. For once, there was no teasing in her voice.
“Then I’ve bought her time.”
Minutes crawled by.
Finley checked Harper’s pulse, blood pressure, and pupils while Adrian recorded each number in the binder. Lucas counted her breaths. Wren stood by the door, keeping watch over both rooms without being asked.
The clinic smelled overwhelmingly of blood.
Mine was warm and metallic, and Harper’s carried something beneath it.
Something sour.
Wrong.
I swallowed against the taste coating the back of my throat.
Beck noticed. “What?”
“Her blood smells different?” I sniffed the air again. “Can’t you tell?”
Finley’s head lifted. “How?”
“I don’t know. Almost spoiled, but not like rot.” I shrugged.
Beck’s nostrils flared, and Lucas went still. Adrian looked toward the collection bag filling with Harper’s blood.
They smelled it too.
Wren wrinkled her nose. “It smells pissed.”
It should have sounded ridiculous, but it didn’t.
Finley immediately wrote something in his binder. “You’re right, it does.”
Even now, he documented everything because someone else might need what he learned tonight.
The bag containing Harper’s blood slowly filled.
The bag containing mine collapsed.
When the final dark stream traveled through the tubing, Finley clamped both lines.
Silence descended.
“Is it done?” Lucas asked.
Finley checked Harper’s pulse, then her blood pressure. Finally, he studied the red streaks on her arm, comparing them to the line he’d drawn.
He stared long enough for my heartbeat to become deafening.
“Finley?” I whispered.
“The progression hasn’t moved beyond the mark.” Finley brushed the hair off Harper’s face.
Hope tore through me so hard it hurt. If this succeeded, we’d have to get the word out.
“It worked.” Beck let out a breath.
Finley looked up sharply. “I didn’t say that.”
“But it stopped.” Wren pushed up the brim of her hat.
“For the moment. Yes.” Finley walked back over to his notebook and wrote a few more sentences. “But it’ll take time to determine if it’s temporary.” He cleaned Harper’s arms and secured the lines, then crossed to the door but didn’t walk through. “Rory?”
“I’ll get her.” Wren turned and went into the room next door.
A few seconds later she came back in with Rory.
“Is my momma still alive?” Rory asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Finley pulled her into his arms. “Yes.”
The little girl sighed and relaxed into his hold.
I stared intently at Harper. Her body was still feverish. Her breathing remained shallow.
The infection was still inside her, but it had stopped advancing.
For now.
“What happens next?” I asked.
Finley gazed at Harper with hope in his eyes. “We wait.”