Page 42 of The Unraveling

“Isla . . .” he whispers.

I sway sideways, holding myself up against the wall. Past Dr. Smith’s arm, Dr. Todd lies there on the floor, head turned away from me.

“Is he meditating?” I whisper, then cough and swallow hard with the taste of iron-tinged liquid coming up on the back of my tongue. “How long has it been since he lied down to think? Could he be almost done?”

“Isla,” Dr. Smith breathes, cold air gusting across my face.

“Dr. Todd?” I whisper-shout, not wanting to disturb him despite knowing it never upsets him. “Are you busy? I don’t feel well.”

Someone touches my arm behind me, but I’m already dipping around Dr. Smith to sneak into the study. He doesn’t stop me, though his heavy steps follow hesitantly as I waver across the hardwood and let myself fall to my knees at Dr. Todd’s side.

“Dr. Todd—” My heart seizes in my chest, his sickly pallor filling my mind and sending it scrambling. My trembling hands cup his face, and I straighten his head. “Victor, love?”

Blood leaking from his eyes and mouth, streaking over his lips from his nose, has me frozen in place.

Dr. Smith kneels beside me. Someone wails in the hallway.

“S-sometimes he sleeps so deeply,” I say, hands finding his limp arm.

There’s something unnatural about the way his body moves when I jostle him. No muscles engage to resist the disturbance.

My face twists in horror. “How⁠—?”

I shake him harder. Dr. Smith rests his hand on my back, choking out, “He’s dead, Isla. I’m . . . so sorry. I tried CPR and⁠—”

Jerking out from beneath his cold touch, I snarl back with, “He’s a vampire! What’s CPR going to do?”

“He was . . . human when he died,” he whispers, disbelief in his own words. “I felt him die through our connection.”

“Victor!” I shout, tone pitching as I shake him harder. “Wake up, Victor!”

I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t wake up.

Yet his open, hazy eyes don’t even blink, head turning with his cheek against the floor. More blood trickles out, glistening crimson against the hardwood.

My gaze follows the crimson on the floor. Spattered and streaked—thick or drying in some places—all over the room. There’s a red sheet on the other end with the shape of two bodies beneath it.

Bradley. The poison came from Bradley. We drank it, and it took from us.

It took everything from us. The forever promised by the nature of our very lives.

My breath strangles me as the room spins, the walls so red I swear everything is soaked bloody. As I sob, Dr. Smith’s arms circle my body and crush me against his shuddering chest, his cold tears sliding down my temple.

“We were poisoned!” I grit out. “Dr. Smith, we were poisoned!”

He squeezes me tighter. “I know, Isla. I know.”

I grip his shirt in my fists, needing something to cling to. “He drank from him and died. I did—am I going to die, too?”

He shushes me. “I’ve got you, Isla.”

“Why is this happening?” I sob. “Is it our fault? Did we bring this upon ourselves? What are the chances this would happen to us?” I gasp for breath, voice so sharp it might rip my vocal cords apart. “What if Julian was right and Bradley’s ability developed in response to us? Vampires who feed from vampires?”

“No, Isla. It’s just bad luck,” he chokes out. “Just bad luck.”

Arms circle my waist as Daisy’s head falls between my shoulder blades. Her staggered sobs have my eyes widening.

“Dr. Smith!” I gasp, cold realization flooding me. “You have to take care of her!”