My memory tricked me. I didn’t have a clear vision of drinking Irene’s blood, but I had the strongest sensation that I’d drunk it.
A commotion made me turn my head. More people were carried into the hall. I vaguely noticed there wasn’t enough space for all of them before I fell into a delirious sleep.
When I woke up, my skin burnt as if something tried to crawl through it from the inside out. I couldn’t move. Two people werepressed against my body. Their sweaty, stinky skin made me gag. I tried to shrug free of them, but they squashed me so much I couldn’t lift my arms, and my bones hurt. A sickening lump was choking me.
There was blood everywhere—on my skin, on people’s skin, and in my mind. The fight was futile. I wanted to drink blood, to gorge myself on it, and drink until the thirst was quenched.
But my skin was so sensitive, each touch was torture as if someone were pressing an incandescent branding iron to it. My bones broke a thousand times. The agony throbbed so intensely that it blocked my throat. Not a sound came out of me.
White-coated people piled more feverish bodies around me. My body was being slashed and burnt and stabbed.
It wasn’t break-bone fever. Not possible.
Whatever disease afflicted me, I was going to die in pain, as Riley had said.
12
BLOODLESS
Irene
Someone was calling my name, but I didn’t have the strength to reply.
“Darling.” It was Papa. He held my hand in his. “You’re safe at home.”
Home. The last thing I remembered was being in Alex’s room as he told me to run. I blinked my eyes open, but it required a ridiculous amount of energy.
Papa’s concerned face filled my field of vision. “I’m so relieved.”
My neck and throat were on fire.
Seemingly reading my mind, he helped me drink a full glass of water, but it didn’t do much for the pain. A bandage was wrapped around my neck.
“What happened?” I asked.
He caressed my forehead. “Mr. Strange found you unconscious in his flat. He came here to warn me, which nearly killed him. Some thugs had beaten him badly. I took you homeand sent a physician to Alex. He had break-bone fever. He’s at the fever hospital. But you…” His voice cracked. “Dr. Fletcher said you have signs of severe blood loss.”
I swallowed a few times. “Am I wounded?”
“No. Dr. Fletcher said you must have a disease that destroys blood cells, like anaemia. That’s why you’re so tired.” He patted my head. “I thought I’d lost you.”
My power was silent. It didn’t detect anything, as it had with Alex.
“Is it break-bone fever?”
“No, no, no.” His grey eyebrows rose. He sounded like he was reassuring himself more than me. “Dr. Fletcher is sure about that. You aren’t running a fever and don’t have shivers. You must drink a lot of broth and tea and rest.” He drew the curtains. “You’d better sleep. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”
He kissed my forehead.
When he left my room, I pulled down the bandage and touched my aching neck to understand what on Earth was happening. A chill set into my bones.
Little, itchy bumps rose on my skin. I snatched the hand mirror from the nightstand and had a look.
Two circular wounds marred my neck, red and swollen. The same as Alex’s.
I dropped the mirror.
His disease was contagious. And I was going to die.
