67. Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Beau Drewitt
Knocking On Heaven’s Door
The door gives way under my hand. Wood splintering, the frame cracking as I shove through it with a force that shakes the walls.
The air inside is much heavier and thicker than earlier with the scent of sickness and fading life.
It clings to my throat and fills me with a terror I haven’t felt in centuries.
I cross the threshold and the world narrows to the faint sound of shallow breathing down the hall.
Her name thunders in my chest. Elowen. I reach her room in an instant.
The sight of her steals what breath I have left.
She lies beneath a blanket that’s been tucked neatly at her feet.
The fabric still carries warmth, but what I thought I heard versus what I’m hearing now are two very different realities.
The realization burns in me. I can’t hear her heartbeat or the blood rushing through her veins.
Did she pass before Imani left? I pull her lifeless body to me and press my ear to her chest. I listen closely to guarantee I don’t hear her heartbeat.
That there’s no chance Elowen Briar is dead in my arms.
Her heartbeat is gone. Oh my god. My thoughts spiral.
I have to try. I have to try. I have to try.
I start CPR. I get onto the bed with her and start compressions.
I scream as my hands press down, all my weight pushing down onto her fragile and weak body.
“Wake up, Elowen. Please. Don’t leave me.
I need you, baby. Please. I’m begging you.
I can’t leave knowing you died alone. Please.
Please. Please.” Tears stream down my face as I finish my second round of compressions, leaning down to give her two rescue breaths.
“CPR isn’t working.” My tears run into my mouth as I speak. I start up compressions again. “Please, baby. God, help me. Save her. Take me. Kill me. I’ll do anything. Don’t take her from me.” Finishing the set of compressions, I lean back down.
Right as my lips go to touch hers, her eyes fling open and she takes a deep breath.
“Elowen. Answer me, baby. Please.” Her chest rises faintly, each breath a fragile climb.
I reach for her hand. Her fingers are limp, cold against mine.
Her eyes flutter open and closed, her lids lifting only halfway.
A glimmer of recognition stirs there, faint but alive.
“Stay with me,” I beg. “Tell me to try. Elowen Briar, think the word try and I’ll save you.
Please.” Her lips move, but I can’t make out a word.
No sound resonates so I dip into her mind.
“Try, Beau. Change me.”
Hope surges through me so sharply it feels like pain. I lean closer, my forehead nearly brushing hers. My chest aches with a relief I don’t deserve, but I cling to it all the same.
“I can’t lose you,” I whisper before pricking my wrist with my fangs.
“Not now. Not ever. Drink.” She parts her lips enough to take a few drops of my blood mixed with tears that fell onto my wrist. Her eyes close again.
I hold her in my arms, cradling her head against me.
Her body surrenders to my hold, trusting me even now.
I hear her heartbeat slow. Ticking back down.
My mouth now hovers above her arm. Her pulse beats faintly beneath her skin, so fragile I fear it might vanish altogether before I can act.
I press my lips to her skin, then sink my teeth in.
Her blood floods my mouth all at once, rich and unbearably sweet.
For one terrible second I think of nothing but the taste, the fire that spreads through me with every drop.
I can feel my strength replenishing as I drink from her wrist. Then, I force the thought away.
This isn’t about hunger or solidifying the bond.
This isn’t about me. This is about her. Saving her.
I drink enough to bind the act, enough to let the change take root, and then I pull back with a shudder.
Her arm lies slack in my hands, her skin pale, her breathing so shallow it’s almost unrecognizable.
“Don’t you fucking leave me. For the love of any living god,” I whisper again, though I know she can’t answer.
The taste of her lingers on my tongue, but guilt presses heavier than any sweetness.
This is no victory. This is desperation clothed in hope.
I lean forward, pressing my forehead to her arm.
My chest heaves with a grief so deep it scrapes against every part of me.
The room is silent but for the faint ticking of the clock and the fragile sound of her breath.
I have bitten her. I have crossed the line she herself had feared.
Now all I can do is wait and pray that she will find her way back to me.
I wait for her heart to stop beating.