Chapter 83
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
NORA
Little girl. A man’s voice spoke. Deep, resonant, and with the gravelly maturity that came from a hard life lived. It came from nowhere in particular, but it sounded close.
The air shimmered, as if she were floating in the warm, shallow waters of a sunlit beach, without the soul-deep fear of being submerged. Was this what it felt like to be a baby inside its mother?
Gentle fingers brushed her hair from her face. A woman sat beside her, so stunningly beautiful that Nora’s eyes filled with tears.
Aside from the woman’s face, Nora couldn’t make out much beyond the iridescent veil shrouding her. Yet the woman seemed to see Nora completely, gazing at her with luminous green eyes and a tender expression. She somehow knew Nora and already loved her.
The woman started to speak, but Nora couldn’t understand a single word. The pamphlets had warned her about this—the cult ones shoved into her hands while she had still been alive.
Angels spoke in a language only they and the gods understood.
But Nora found herself nodding along to whatever the woman was saying, compelled to agree with whatever she wanted.
Little girl, the man’s voice pressed again. Eyes alive. Now.
Nora, sensing the man’s looming presence, turned toward him on her other side. How surprising that there was still impatience, even here in the afterlife, where time had no limit or meaning.
She blinked, confronted by two glowing blue orbs.
Her heart began to pound painfully, in sync with a shrill beeping that seemed out of place.
Something soft wrapped around her wrist. She heard a soft trill in the back of her thoughts, then a sharp tug trying to pull her under.
She wanted to follow the little force that must have earned her trust in life.
But she felt herself resisting it, wanting to stay, liking it here.
With this woman who poured love on her without judgment, as if she’d been waiting an eternity to do so.
My little boy. The man extended his hand to indicate a small child.
Nora stared at the man’s fingers, covered in black lines and spirals. And something about that exact motion—like patting a child’s head—struck her. He needs you. Alone. Scared. Go home. Please.
She looked between the two angels, a familiarity growing beyond what she had assumed was the peace mistakenly granted to her in the afterlife.
Before she could ask if she knew them, a pressure bore down on her stomach—like the clap of thunder, but within her.
All the warmth expanded at once…then collapsed.
Nora’s eyes shot open. The pit of her stomach was being torn out from her mouth.
Gloved hands—so many she couldn’t count—flew around her, some on her. One floated in front of her face, grasping a tube that came from her throat.
Yank.
Saliva dripped down her chin, her throat clamping on the tube still inside her. She couldn’t scream or beg for it to stop. With another yank, the end of the tube was out, leaving her feeling hollow of air and life.
“Breath with me, honey.” A hand grasped hers and squeezed, then released. A rhythm to match her breathing. Nora tried, but her lungs didn’t want to expand.
She struggled to free herself of whatever held her down. Instantly, her limbs tangled in a mess of wires. The beeping from earlier sped up.
“It’s all right, Miss Shaw.” A woman spoke above her. “You can take a breath on your own—I know you can do it.”
The woman looked down at her, a bright smile spreading across her face. Nora recognized her features as East Asian, with pale ivory skin.
A human.
Panic seized Nora. She flailed, but her muscles felt…syrupy.
“Nora Shaw,” the woman said again. Hands held Nora’s legs down. “I’m Iris. You’ve made it to the Valhalla Research Colony. Mars.”
Her first word came out as a gag. She took a breath, ignoring the burning scratch as she tried again. “Airik,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Hands pulled on her arms and legs, but everything felt wrong. When she tried to turn, a sharp pain shot down her neck and into her arm.
“Airik,” Nora cried out, trying to find him through the flood of spots in her vision. “With me.”
“Eric?” Iris smiled hesitantly.
She tried to nod, but the side of her neck felt too tight.
Iris lifted a brow, as if a realization dawned on her. “Someone get Davis in here,” she said to the other nurses. “Did she ever get LB’s name?” She turned back to Nora, taking her hand. “I think we’ve finally got a name.”
Confused, Nora couldn’t return the kindness. The only face she wanted wasn’t here. She also felt like she was going to throw up, assaulted by the harsh odor of alcohol and the taste of saline on her tongue.
A bucket appeared in Nora’s face. She didn’t have time to question it. The small bursts of saliva and bile that burned her throat came up and emptied into the bucket.
When finished, she looked up at the woman holding it to say thank you.
She wore glasses. Like Loretta had.
Nora moaned, nausea coming up again
“Don’t worry,” the woman holding the bucket said, giving Nora a thumbs-up. “You’re okay.”
She stared at the woman’s thumb. The gesture was so human that Nora began to cry. Both women before her stopped smiling and exchanged an odd glance before turning back to her.
I’m sorry. I don’t want you. I want Airik.
She tried to push up. Her arms buckled from the effort, and she fell back miserably to the scratchy bedsheets.
Iris nodded to the woman with glasses to move to Nora’s other side.
They hoisted her up and Iris placed a pillow behind her back. Their hands on hers were too small. She had grown accustomed to something more.
She was in a hospital room. White and blue and bland. A groan escaped her. Four medical cabinets surrounded her. Serious-looking equipment, all connected to her by wires and tubes.
A grinding sound caught her attention, and she shifted her gaze from the two women staring at her to a round window on the far wall. It rattled with the force of reddish sand beating against it, as if they were sunken in a silty ocean. Cold sweat beaded on her already gross-feeling skin.
“A dust storm,” the woman with glasses said. She tucked a strand of her very short black hair behind her ear, making a nervous laugh. “No big deal—happens all the time.”
Nora looked between the two women, trying not to hyperventilate openly. “Was I…was I dreaming? Did I crash?”
“You’re okay now, but you were badly hurt, Miss Shaw,” Iris said. “From what I understand, you did crash after quite a journey. You’ve just woken up—it’s been four days since you were brought in.”
Oh, God. Her eyes filled with fresh, stinging tears, and she ripped the bucket away from the woman. She curled over it and started to retch the little bit of fluid left inside.
No. No. No. Had the best part of her life only been the dreams of a dying woman? A pathetic attempt by her mind to soothe her? Airik had to have been a dream—a miracle that someone like him existed at all. Perfect for her in every way, ruining her for the rest of her life.
To both women’s immediate horror, Nora tried to get out of bed again, jerking against the wires holding her back. Iris pushed her firmly back against the pillow. “Not yet, honey. I’m not done explaining everything.”
Who cared what had happened? She needed to get out of this fucking room.
One of the wires pulled against her chest, her skin burning with the rasp of the fabric. “Fuck,” she cried. Why did her breast hurt so much?
“You need to calm down—”
A maddening hope and memory gripped her. Nora tore open the cheap ties of the gown.
A wild laughter burst from her battered throat, her body trembling with swelling joy. “They’re here,” she sobbed, running her fingers over the marks on her chest. “He’s real. He did this.” She looked up at the two women, knowing she must have looked insane. “Because I asked him to.”
All of Airik’s marks were on her—faded yet visible. Nothing else could have caused them. Oval, with four prominent points for fangs. Fear vanished instantly, and the pain in her body eased. But only for a moment.
Long enough for her to feel the ghost of a loving touch on her face—a dream she might have had just moments earlier. But as she tried to remember the faces, nothing remained, and the memory of the experience was already fading.
Iris looked at the other woman, raising a brow. “Liv, get Davis ASAP. I think LB’s story checks out. Let’s see if we can arrange a visit.”