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Mike came up to his side. “All right, it’s all right. We won’t touch you.”
Radu whispered, “The gauze. Please.”
Mike didn’t hesitate. She reached out her hand. Nicholas said, “Don’t, Mike,” but she ignored him and opened the drawer, then stopped short. She looked at Radu.
“I swear to you it’s not a trick. It’s not a trick. The drawer won’t explode. If you don’t get it on the wound, I’m going to bleed to death.”
They saw blood dripping from between his fingers now, saw the stark fear on his face. She pulled open the drawer, saw a stack of military-grade hemostatic gauze packages with the brand name QuikClot on them.
She opened one and slapped it on his arm. “You won’t bleed to death, you’ll see, the pressure will cut off the vein.”
Nicholas quickly released Isabella from the webbing. She ran to stand over Radu, the tubing dangling from the needle in her arm. “What he has, it’s a different kind of illness.”
Radu answered, his voice remote as he stared down at his arm. “Most hemophiliacs can’t simply bleed to death. It’s true, I have a disorder that isn’t treatable. My blood simply won’t clot. Even with the vein compressed, it doesn’t matter.”
Mike said, “What else can we do?”
“Pressure, and the medicine on the counter. The green self-injectable tube. It’s still in development, experimental, but it’s my only chance.”
She had the tube in her hand when she saw the edges of the hemostatic gauze were already red and pooling.
“Inject that into my neck, please. Just here. Please do not touch me with your skin while you do so. I don’t like being touched. Except Isabella. She’s my sister.” He pointed at the artery. He bent his head, and she jammed the auto-injector pen against his neck and depressed the button. He winced but didn’t make a sound.
“This is experimental, how, exactly?” she asked.
“As in I’ve never tried it before. I haven’t had a bleed in years.”
He lifted the edge of the now soaked gauze. Even Mike knew this was bad—the QuikClots were designed to stop bleeding, to save lives on the battlefield, but for Radu, it wasn’t enough to stop a simple IV needle removal. And he believed Isabella’s blood would cure him? She pressed down against the site with all her strength, but it didn’t help, blood still poured out of the wound in his arm. Her hands were red with his blood. But how could that be? Was he bleeding internally?
Mike said, “Your neck is bruising, Radu. It’s almost black.” And she slapped a fresh gauze pack in place, applied more pressure.
Isabella touched his uninjured arm. “We need to get you to a hospital, Radu. Surely they’ll be able to do something.”
Radu said, his voice still remote, almost disinterested, “It won’t matter. The bruising on my neck wasn’t supposed to happen. It means the medicine didn’t work. At the rate I’m bleeding, I’ll be dead soon now.” He raised glazed eyes to their faces. “Roman researched a dozen people, so many that could possibly be of our line, tracked them down, and exsanguinated them to give me their blood. None worked until Isabella.” He gave a laugh so thin and insubstantial it was like smoke. “And now I’m self-exsanguinating.”
The blood was pooling beneath him now, dripping onto the floor.
“We’ve designed a whole life around making sure I didn’t have a bleed. Isabella, you are my only hope.” He spoke to her in that strange, guttural language. She whispered back in the same language, then turned to them. “I’m going to try to hook us back up. My blood—it might help.”
Nicholas said, “I’m sorry, we don’t have the training for that. Listen, the medics will be here soon—”
Radu lifted the gauze from his arm and stared at the pulsing blood. He whispered, “Roman is going to be furious with you. He has tried so hard.” And he slid over onto his side, his eyes closed, his hand pressed against the gauze in the crook of his elbow, now red with his blood. He called, “Isabella? You’re all I have.”
She grabbed the needle adhesive still sticking to his arm and shoved the needle back in, hoping she’d hit the vein. She straightened the tubing on her own arm and lay down beside him. She took his hand in hers. “Lie still and feel my blood come into you, Radu. You will live, do you hear me? My blood will make you live.”
She felt him sigh. Felt him squeeze her hand. He was so cold, shivering now, though it was very warm in the lab. “I’m here, Radu.”
He whispered in Voynichese, “Tell Roman, tell him your blood is the key. Your blood. The potion isn’t important, not the book, not the pages. You are the cure, for me. Make sure he knows. I don’t want him to blame you, kill you.” His voice faded until his last words were a faint whisper.
His eyes closed.
“I’ll tell him, Radu. You must hold on. My blood is flowing into you. You must hold on.”
Nicholas and Mike watched the blood, Isabella’s blood now, flowing out of his arm, pooling on the floor.
Gareth limped up to stand beside them. Isabella pulled the needle out of her arm, applied pressure. They all stood in silence, helpless, and watched Radu Ardelean die.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
