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Roman smiled. “You’re our blood sister. And you brought us the pages. Radu has drunk the potion, and now he awaits the life that should have always been his.”
She started to struggle against the webbing. She twisted and turned, nearly displacing the cannula in her arm.
She heard him say, “I should have done this earlier.” He leaned over her again. “Here, a little something to make you calm.” He injected a needle into her arm. Almost instantly, she felt the fear fade. There was no pain in her arm, no sense of what was going to happen. He was saying, “I hope you can still understand me. We’re going to have to take a great deal of your blood, and probably do this two or three times, but the manuscript’s directions are clear. If we follow these steps, he will be cured, and you shouldn’t be dead.”
She looked up at him, blurred now, but she still saw a handsome man, a genius, it was said. She admired genius. She whispered, “All right, but you know, I really don’t want to die.”
“You spoke to me in Voynichese, did you realize that? Well, I gave you something quite pleasant. Sorry I can’t play music for you, Radu doesn’t like it. Perhaps he will once he has your blood coursing through his veins. Do you want to hum?”
“Yes, I want to hum.” And she started humming, an old Romanian ballad sung by her mother and her mother before her, all the way back to who knew? A sad song about a man and a maid and how they were betrayed and both died. Who cared? She kept humming.
She thought she heard him laugh. Was that Radu’s excited voice?
He was leaning over her again, and lightly laid a finger over her mouth. “You’re humming too loud. I don’t want Radu to get too excited. Transfusions are difficult for him, and we must be so careful. Even the tiniest bit of jostling while the needle is in place could be the death of him.”
She whispered her hum, more the sound of a bee now, but she didn’t want to jostle Radu.
“It’s time. Radu, are you ready?”
“I am. Oh, Isabella. My dearest sister. I am very excited to have you inside of me.”
Iago leaned over to insert the needle into Radu’s arm, but Roman stepped to his side and took the cannula away. “Iago, I will do that. I don’t want any mistakes now.”
“As you wish.” And she saw the man Iago step out of the way, his face still expressionless.
Iago. Was he named after Shakespeare’s Iago? A bad man he’d been. She whispered his name.
A phone started ringing.
Roman cursed.
“Iago. Tend to that.”
Tend to what? Oh yes, the phone. Was his sweetheart calling him? No, Iago was a betrayer, he didn’t love, couldn’t love. She started humming again. She heard Roman murmuring something. To Radu?
No, to her. “It’s only the needle,” Roman said. “Hold still, and yes, keep humming. It’s in place now.”
Almost immediately, she had the strangest sensation. She saw a vacuum, and it was attached to her arm, and she could feel the blood being pulled out. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she should be screaming, but she didn’t. She closed her eyes and hummed. Was that her mother standing over her? Why was she crying?
She heard Iago’s voice, a whisper, yet it sounded loud in her ears. “Roman, you must take this call. It’s Lord Barstow. He’s texted a number of times and continues to call.”
“What does he want?”
“He says it’s urgent. He says you must get on the phone immediately.”
“Give me that.”
Isabella heard a faint snap over her humming and knew it was Roman ripping sterile gloves off his hands.
He sounded angry—why was that? He was going to drain her blood into Radu. Would she die? He said, “What do you want now, Barstow?”
Barstow. She hadn’t ever heard that name before. She wondered why Roman was so angry at him.
“Yes, I’ll come. I will meet you at the theater. If you don’t have the entire amount in cash, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
He hung up, and Isabella saw through a pleasant haze that he was smiling. And then, “Radu, the bastard finally took me seriously and is paying up. All of it. It’s a great day, Brother. You will be healthy, and the drones will go to Africa. Iago, supervise the remainder of the blood transfer. I must go meet Barstow.”
He laughed again, and both Radu and Iago laughed, too. She wondered about the money. Why give it to him? Barstow, who was he? She wanted to laugh, too, but all she could do was hum.
