Chapter 23 Laurels and Wires
Amy looked the same at first glance. Her skin looked translucent against the white sheets. Her cheeks were more hollow, and the shadows under her eyes had deepened like bruises spreading beneath the surface.
She was slowly fading, like watching a photograph left in sunlight, colors leaching away bit by bit. The machines beeped their false reassurance, but we could still see the divine fire dimming; death from the inside out.
I stood by her bedside, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead with gentle fingers. Luz stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed tight over her chest. I could see the conflict in her eyes, and underneath it all, that terrible knowledge of what was really happening.
The door didn’t just open, it announced.
“Shit. This place smells like death and bleach.”
Mavis Lane—May to everyone who mattered—strode in with all the subtlety of a hurricane. She filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and bold, taking up space like she’d been born to command it.
Her long black braid was twisted over one shoulder. A white muscle tank, artfully ripped jeans, and combat boots hit the linoleum with thuds that made the sterile room too small for her.
She was beautiful, had always been beautiful, but more than that, she was herself in ways that made the rest of the world feel apologetic for not keeping up.
“I swore to you both,” May stated, hands on her hips, “if I had to haul my ass back here, somebody better be dying or—” Her voice caught, before she covered it with a wink. “Or popping out a baby.”
We heard her voice crack around “dying,” saw the tremor in her hands before she planted them on her hips to steady them.
She was terrified.
“You better not be knocked up, mamacita,” she added to Luz, forcing a grin that didn’t reach her eyes.
Luz let out a soft snort, folding her arms. “Relax, muscle mommy. Still too smart for that.” She shot me a mischievous look. “Mel, on the other hand…”
I swatted her shoulder, blushing. “I’m not either, thanks.”
May laughed, the sound half-strained. “Damn. Guess I’ll have to cancel the baby shower.”
I managed a weak smile and stepped forward to hug her. She crushed me in one of her bone-cracking embraces that still somehow felt like safety.
“Hey, May,” I said into her shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”
Her grin faltered, softening into something more real. “How could I not? She’s my twin…”
She pulled back, and the swagger drained out of her shoulders. The forced humor dissolved. Every step closer to Amy stripped away her defenses until only aching terror remained. By the time she reached the bedside, May was shaking.
She knelt and took Amy’s limp hand in both of hers.
“Oh, Ames,” she breathed. “What the hell did you get caught up in?”
Her thumb stroked the back of Amy’s hand in small, trembling circles.
“She didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, moving to stand beside her. “This isn’t her fault.”
“No, but someone’s gonna pay for it anyway,” May snapped. She ducked her head, biting her lip hard enough to leave marks. Silence pressed down between us.
May’s eyes roved over Amy’s still face and whispered, almost to herself: “You remember when we were kids? We used to play ‘pirates and queens’ in your backyard.”
A laugh bubbled out of me, half-choked with tears. “Yeah. You had that old bedsheet you’d turn into a sail.”
“And Amy would find the biggest stick she could carry and declare it her scepter,” May added, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. “She always insisted she had to be the queen and would pout if you said otherwise.”
“And I’d cry until she gave me a plastic tiara too,” I chuckled. “So we’d have two queens, and you’d be stuck being the pirate trying to steal our treasure.”
“Which was just old Halloween candy we’d buried in the flower bed.” May’s smile turned watery. “She was born for it. Even at seven, she had that presence. You just knew she was meant to lead something.”
“And she held us together,” I agreed. “Even when things were hard.”
May’s breath shuddered. “Even when I still… wasn’t me yet. When I was still trying to figure out why I felt wrong in my own skin—” Her breath hitched. “Amy was the only one who looked at me and said, ‘you’re still my twin. Whoever you are, I love you, and that’s all that matters.’”
She pressed her forehead against Amy’s hand, tears falling freely.
“I was fifteen and terrified, and everyone else was asking questions I couldn’t answer yet.
Mom was sick and couldn’t process any of it.
I felt like I was drowning. But Amy—” A sob broke through.
“Amy just loved me. She looked at me like I was still the person she’d always known, even when I didn’t know who that person was yet. ”
Her shoulders shook. “I don’t know who I am without her, Mel. She’s the only one who’s never made me feel like I had to explain myself to deserve love.”
“You won’t have to find out,” I stated, hands clenching. “We’re not giving up on her.”
Luz stepped closer. “She’s stable for now. The doctors don’t know what’s causing the coma. They keep saying exhaustion, stress, or nutritional deficiency, but we know it’s something else.”
May’s head snapped up. “Okay, spill. You two are dancing around something, and I’m not an idiot. I know you’ve been digging into that supplement study Amy was in.”
I sat down in the chair beside her, choosing my words carefully. “She was misled. The supplements she was taking… they weren’t what they claimed to be. We think her condition is directly connected.”
May looked at me like she wanted to scream or punch the wall, maybe smash the monitors for good measure; anything to bleed off the storm building in her chest. “So you’re telling me my sister is hooked up to these goddamn machines because some pharma bro wanted to run human trials without proper oversight? ”
“Worse,” Luz murmured, her brow furrowing in anger. “This was targeted.”
May tensed. She turned back to Amy, thumb still stroking her knuckles like a metronome keeping time with her twin’s fading life.
“She told me about the dreams,” May whispered. “Dark rooms filled with golden light. Temples were crumbling around her. Something was watching her from the shadows. She thought she was losing her mind. But she wasn’t, was she?”
I didn’t answer; I didn’t need to. May scowled.
“I told her to stop. When she started getting dizzy, when she said her skin felt like it was on fire, when she couldn’t sleep without nightmares.
I begged her to stop taking those supplements.
But she has always been so fucking stubborn.
She wanted to see it through.” Her face twisted, grief and fury tangled together.
“I should’ve done more. Should’ve made her throw them away. Should’ve—”
“This isn’t your fault,” I said, squeezing her shoulder. “Amy made her choice. None of us knew what was really happening.”
May’s eyes glistened. “She’s always been the stubborn one.”
I let out a weak laugh. “The most stubborn out of all of us.”
May’s hand tightened around Amy’s, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“You know what’s really messed up?” she said. “The dreams didn’t stop with Amy. I started getting them, too, after she landed here.”
My chest went tight. “What kind of dreams?”
Her eyes flicked up to me, wary. Then she let out a sharp exhale.
“Flashes,” she murmured. “Sunlight so bright it burns; not like summer sun, like divine fire. The kind that could heal or destroy depending on…” She shook her head.
“I don’t know, my mood? My intent? It’s hard to explain.
And music. Not just hearing it, being it.
Like my body is an instrument and every heartbeat is a note, and if I just knew how to tune myself right, I could make reality bend to the melody. ”
Her hand trembled against Amy’s. “And there’s this voice.
It calls me by a name that’s not mine. Something that feels like sunlight in my mouth.
I wake up, and I can almost taste it. Gold, heat, and truth.
But then it’s gone, and I’m just me again, covered in sweat, shaking like I’ve run a marathon. ”
She looked up at me, and for just a second her eyes caught the light wrong, flashing brilliant gold before returning to normal.
“It’s getting stronger,” she whispered. “Whatever it is. I can feel it waking up inside me, and I’m terrified of what happens when it finally breaks free.”
Luz had gone very still, her expression neutral, recognition flashing across her face.
May cleared her throat. “Amy had the same dreams first. She told me about them before she got really sick. Golden fire in her veins, temples crumbling around her, a crown of laurel leaves that burned when she touched it.” Her face crumpled.
“She said she’d see me in the dreams too, standing beside her, playing music that could shatter stone or heal wounds. ”
“And you see her?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” May breathed. “Not like this. Alive and whole like she’s made of moonlight and fury, standing in a forest with silver arrows strapped to her back and eyes that glow like starlight.
” She pressed her lips together, fighting tears.
“And beside her, there’s me, burning like the sun given form. ”
Her head bowed. “But when I wake up, she’s still here, like this, and I can’t shake the thought that the dream’s trying to tell me something. That maybe she’s slipping away into someplace I can’t follow.”
I reached out, gripping her arm before she could spiral further.
“No,” I stated, my voice steadier than I felt. “Don’t you dare believe that. Amy’s still here. Those dreams are not a goodbye. They’re a warning, or a clue. Something we can use.”
May blinked at me, startled by the conviction in my tone. She pressed her lips together, the storm in her eyes dimming just a little as she nodded.
“Fine,” she muttered. “Then we’ll figure out what the hell they mean because I’m not letting some biotech bastards or some creepy cosmic nightmare take her from me. Not without a fight.”
Luz finally spoke, her voice low and resonant, like the shadow of truth. “Good. You’ll need that fire.”
The machines beeped on, indifferent to the weight of our vow.
My chest felt tight, the air in the room too heavy. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You two want anything?”
Luz gave me a look that said, “Really?”
I snorted. “Okay, a coffee for Luz. May?”
May shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.”
Luz squeezed my hand once before I slipped into the hall.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I made my way toward the cafeteria. I was halfway there when I spotted a name tag on a door.
Xavier Greaves
Through the window of a hospital room door, there he was lying motionless in his bed. I should have kept walking. He wasn’t my responsibility.
He’d been an arrogant and possessive thorn in my side most of our lives. He’d followed me home and stalked me through campus, and even kidnapped me, nearly—
I stopped that thought before it could finish. I owed him exactly nothing.
But I paused anyway. As much as I wanted to hate him, I found that I couldn’t. Not anymore, now that I knew what had been done to him.
I moved closer to the small window and looked inside, telling myself I’d just check once and then leave.
Xavier lay flat against sterile sheets, skin pale gray like all the color had been leeched out of him.
He looked diminished without the cocky swagger or the aggressive energy that usually surrounded him.
His family surrounded the bed. His mother clutched his hand in both of hers, whispering something I couldn’t hear through the glass, tears streaming silently down her face.
His father stood rigid and helpless at the foot of the bed, body clenched as though he was physically holding back an ocean of grief.
And in the corner, barely visible, was a kid. Younger brother, maybe. He couldn’t be older than thirteen. He sat with his knees pulled to his chest, face pressed against his arms, rocking quietly back and forth in his seat.
Seeing Xavier as someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s loved one instead of just the guy who’d made my life hell made my chest tighten in ways I didn’t expect. Movement at the nurses’ station drew my eye away.
Dr. Sloan stood there, tablet in hand. He flipped through a chart, murmured something to a nurse about medication adjustments, then his gaze flicked toward Xavier’s door.
Nothing more than a glance, but I saw the clinical, frigid assessment.
Ice slid down my spine.
He wasn’t just monitoring them; he was harvesting both of them. The God of War and Goddess of the Hunt, trapped in comas while someone methodically drained them of everything that made them divine.
And he was doing it right here, hidden behind the veneer of medical care and hospital protocol.
I stepped back from the window, fists clenched so hard my nails bit into my palms. His family deserved privacy and dignity, things Xavier had never given me, but I would grant him anyway.
Xavier deserved to be protected from Ekklesia’s grasp. Not because I’d forgiven him, but because no one should suffer that.
If we were going to take down Ekklesia and stop Cyrus, we had to find a way to save them both.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, making me jump. I pulled it out and stared at the screen.
Leo: I’m out. Need to talk. URGENT.
Another buzz.
Leo: Not texting, kind of urgent. In person.
Another.
Leo: Found something when they arrested me.
Leo: Mel, it’s bad. Really bad.
Leo: How soon can you meet?
My stomach dropped. Leo didn’t panic or overdramatize. If he said it was bad, it was catastrophically bad.
I typed back quickly: Getting coffee now. Back in Amy’s room in 5. Can you come to the hospital?
His response was immediate: On my way. Be there in 20.
I grabbed coffee from the cafeteria on autopilot, mind racing through everything I’d just seen and learned. By the time I made it back to Amy’s room, my hands were shaking enough that coffee had sloshed over the rim.
I stepped through the door and handed Luz her coffee. She took it with a grateful nod.
“Leo’s on his way,” I said. “He should be here in about fifteen minutes.”
May looked up from where she sat beside Amy. “Good. The sooner we figure out what Ekklesia did to her, the sooner we can fix it.”
I pulled out my phone and showed them Leo’s texts. “He said he found something when they arrested him. Something really bad.”
May’s expression hardened. “Then we listen to what he found, and then we make a plan.” She looked at Amy. “Because I’m not sitting around while they kill my sister.”
She cracked her knuckles, and for just a moment, so brief I almost missed it, the lights in the room seemed to brighten.