Page 25 of You Only Die Twice

Groaning, I force myself forward, ignoring the questioning glances of the guard. I don’t pay him to wonder what I’m doing, and if I did, it still wouldn’t be any of his damn business. I slide back over to Katrina and pull her into my arms, letting her head loll about. I slide the thermometer in and hold her mouth closed while waiting for the beep.

The silence is deafening. We wait there, my proverbial heart in my throat as I watch the numbers climb. 101.8. Fuck. I put her back down and pull out my phone, ignoring the barrage of questions I knew would be there. He’ll find out soon enough. I go back to the popular website and look up that temperature. None of the articles are good.

Though she’s not in a high amount of danger, she might need to go to the hospital. Out here, there’s no one close enough for my liking. There’s no way around it. Once Jackson gets back, we will have to turn her. I can’t chance losing her to something as stupid as a fucking fever in the twenty-first century. People shouldn’t be dying over fucking fevers.

I look over the list of causes of a fever at that temperature, and my stomach plummets. So many things can be wrong with her, and I won’t even be able to tell. I know I can rule out heat exhaustion and sunburn, but again, it lists cancer along with so many other things that I have no way of diagnosing.

Crawling onto the bed, I gather Katrina in my arms, covering as much of her skin as I can with mine in hopes of lowering her temperature. Goosebumps explode over her skin as I rock her back and forth. Unbidden, memories of my first love barrel through my brain. I thought after five hundred years that I shoved it far enough away that I’d never feel it again.

But no.

Like a ghost from my past, I can still conjure up her face. It wasn’t a fever or anything like that; it was childbirth. Her screams bounce around in my skull as she begs to hold our stillborn son. They were both covered in blood. God. So much blood. The midwife could do nothing. She helped her as best she could. “Breach,” she muttered, putting the baby on a nearby table.

I couldn’t bear to let my wife see our son like that, but she insisted, her brain and eyes barely registering my own face. There wasn’t any harm in allowing her a few moments of peace before she, too, passed on. Tears streamed down my face as I laid him in her arms, whispering his name to her as she reached out for him.

Her hands could barely hold his insignificant weight as I held them both, helping her cradle him. I had to be strong. I had to be the one to hold it together. Hours went by as she continued to bleed, her body getting weaker by the minute. When she closed her eyes to join our son, I couldn’t help the sigh of relief.

It was agony watching her suffer. My heart died that day, along with the two of them. Though I wasn’t yet a monster, it set me up for it nicely. Good monsters always have the best backstory, after all. I buried them both at dawn, laying Eriks in his mother’s arms. Eternal ruler. That is why I chose that name. Though he was now gone, I had still hoped he would be a strong leader, even in the heavens.

Looking down at Katrina, the same fear that paralyzed me then creeps up to me now. Even with how powerful I am, I cannot help her. Not like this. It’s so easy to just call someone from nearby to come help, but I don’t trust them. I don’t trust any of them. No one will ever lay a finger on my human. Ever. Jackson is the only man I trust not to harm her.

Her lips move as she snuggles into me, the scent of fear and sickness rolling off her body. Chet. Always Chet. The only consolation is that she never says his name in an endearing way. It’s always with a bite of anger and a tinge of regret. Cradling her head on my arm, I reach down and pull open her eyelids, peering deep into her soul.

Being sick like she is, she can’t shutter her memories away from me. She can’t hide behind any pretense. She’s out there for me to see, raw and beautiful. The memories of her and this pathetic excuse for a man roll through her mind like a movie I’m unable to stop, and I don’t want to. I want to see everything he did to her. Good and bad.

Though he was never cruel, he never really gave her anything she needed. I watch as he rebuffed her again and again, making her feel cheap, used, weird for her proclivities. The ones she brought to him were tame compared to what I’ve done to her. I wonder what this wannabe politician would think of my girl now? She will never have to hide who she is again. Ever.

Letting her eyelid drop back down, I hold her close to me again, taking her temperature every five minutes or so. It’s probably beyond compulsive, but I have no true way of knowing how to gauge her progress. Even with all this, I’m not going to change my views on humans. I’m not going to study them and find out what makes their bodies work or break down, but if I had to do it all over again, I would have turned at least one doctor and forced them to remain close by.

Minutes tick by as I wait for Jackson in this godawful room. If I knew for sure moving her wouldn’t make things worse, she would be in my bed and not here. Dawn is approaching. Soon, Jackson will either have to be here with us or find shelter elsewhere.

Irritation and worry slither up my spine, taking hold. I don’t want to look at the phone again for fear of seeing yet another slew of questions I don’t feel like answering. After an eternity, the door slams open, and Jackson rushes into the room, his gaze landing first on Katrina and then on me.

I despise the accusation in his eyes, as if I was somehow the cause. “I haven’t harmed or turned her, and unless you want me to bend you over her body while I fuck you back into submission, you’ll damn well wipe that look off your face,” I snarl, my arms tightening around her warm body.

Jackson’s eyes soften just a touch as we stare at each other, and even though Katrina is obviously sick, his pants tent at my threat. “Well? I take it, it's done?” I continue maneuvering my body so Jackson can have a seat. I don’t want him knowing just how hard the panic claws at my chest. He can’t see me flounder or falter. I will not allow myself to lose esteem in his eyes.

“It’s done.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’d been screaming. He swallows several times, his eyes phasing out for a moment. “You were right. I killed their leader, and the rest of them fell, their bodies turning to ash. What’s wrong with Katrina?”

“I don’t know.” I hated admitting that, but denying it does nothing to help her. “This website says it’s cancer, but I can’t check for that.”

Jackson’s eyes narrow as he holds out his hand. “Which website?”

“The medical one.” I hand him my phone and let my hand drift back to Katrina’s forehead, making soothing motions as I force my eternal cool into her feverish body.

His snort of laughter grates along my spine. The insolence of him laughing at me. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“Nobody uses this website. They’re notorious for freaking people out, making them think they’re dying or something.”

“So she’s not? Dying?”

He shakes his head and pulls her out of my arms. Instantly I miss her weight. It takes all my willpower not to yank her back where it’s safe. I’m growing fond of Jackson, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not the one who will take command of them both. If he does anything to jeopardize her health, he’ll wish for Gloria’s death.

“I’m not a doctor, so I can’t say that for sure. What’s her most current temperature?”

“It’s fluctuating between 101.8 and 102.”

“Hmmm. Not high enough to be an emergency.”