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They crawled. After ten feet, they saw Isabella, wearing a hospital gown, her legs webbed to the bed. But she wasn’t alone.
She was sitting up, and a man was holding her in front of him. They were tethered together, connected by a long tube running from her arm to his. It was dark red. What was going on here? A blood transfusion? This man was taking Isabella’s blood?
Was this Roman Ardelean’s brother? Tall, pale as death, and he looked like he wanted to vomit. He’d flattened one hand over Isabella’s mouth and the other hand held a scalpel to her neck.
What was his name? Radu. Yes, Radu Ardelean, and he was ill, Barstow had said. Mike whispered his name to Nicholas, but he already knew. They knew Radu had seen them, but he wasn’t looking at them. No, he was looking over to where the older man lay on the floor behind them, an ever-spreading pool of blood snaking toward them. There were tears in his eyes.
He spoke to them in a language they didn’t understand. Then he shook his head and said in stilted English, “Don’t come any closer. I don’t want to kill her. She is my life, but I will if you make me.”
Isabella bit his hand, and he flinched. He stuck the scalpel into her neck, drawing a drop of blood.
Mike sat back on her heels, her mind racing, but when she spoke, her voice was calm and soothing, “You are his brother, aren’t you? You’re Radu Ardelean.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. If you leave us, we will be fine. We belong together. She is my blood sister. She’d tell you that, but she’s scared.”
“Why don’t you let your blood sister speak to us?” Mike crawled a few more feet, then a few more, sat back on her heels again. Nicholas stopped behind her. She felt his hand on her leg.
Slowly, Radu took his hand from Isabella’s mouth, but the scalpel remained against her throat. They saw another drop of blood. Mike would swear his nostrils flared, as if he was breathing in that blood on her neck, as he whispered, “Tell them, sister, tell them we belong together, that I will die without you.”
Isabella couldn’t get any spit into her mouth. She was still weak and light-headed from the loss of blood, but she had to get it together, had to. She swallowed and swallowed again, aware Radu was behind her, breathing hard, nearly over the edge he was so frightened, so desperate. She wasn’t about to try to shove him off. She said quietly, her voice infinitely calm, “Yes, Radu isn’t only Roman Ardelean’s brother, he’s his twin. He has an untreatable hemophilia that runs through our familial line. He’s right. With the recipe from the Voynich and my blood, he could be cured.” The scalpel eased out of her neck, and she swallowed again. He whispered against her neck, “Tell them you belong with me. Always.”
Nicholas heard him, of course, and said, “Radu, we can’t leave her with you. You have to let her go.” He continued to crawl forward until he was next to Mike. Radu’s face hardened, then he looked again toward the older man’s body, and suddenly, he seemed to fold in on himself. He whispered, “No, no,” and his voice was filled with soul-deep grief. Yet again, he pricked her skin with the scalpel. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. Blood trailed down to stain her white hospital gown.
Mike raised her hand. “Stop, don’t hurt her. She’s innocent in this, and from what we see, what she’s said, we know you are, too.”
Nicholas said, “Radu, please, put down the scalpel, and we can talk about this, civilly.” He rose slowly to his feet.
“You killed Iago.”
“We didn’t want to, but we had no choice. He was trying to kill us.”
“He was protecting me. Iago always protected me, since I was a little boy. Don’t come another step closer.”
Mike stood as well, moved to stand beside Nicholas.
Radu said, “I’m telling you, you want to stop walking, right now. You really should pay attention.”
Nicholas stopped, but Mike took another step, and another. She saw Radu reach out his hand and touch something at the side of a counter, and the whole world disappeared.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
She was falling, a black maw below her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to understand. She heard Nicholas shout her name, but she couldn’t stop, she was falling, falling—something was choking her—
Nicholas, Nicholas, I’m so sorry— Her neck slapped to the side, hard, and she was jerked to a stop, like a bungee cord, only she wasn’t dangling in space. She banged into a hard wall, the breath knocked out of her. She realized she was choking and pulled hard at the gun strap now twisted tight around her neck. She couldn’t loosen it, it was cutting off her air. She heard Nicholas yell, “I have you!”
She dangled in the darkness, Nicholas’s hand holding the gun strap, and she was tearing at it, trying desperately to loosen it. She realized the strap was pressing against her jugular. She couldn’t breathe, spots started to dance in front of her eyes. She struggled, but nothing worked.
“You’re okay, Mike,” he called down to her. “Breathe, your wind’s been knocked out, little sips of air, I have you. You aren’t going to fall.”
He quickly pulled her up through the darkness, back into the white room. Her gun clattered against the metal edge of the hole, ripped free of her body. It was a long time before it hit bottom.
She landed on the floor, arms and legs splayed out, wheezing for breath. Nicholas saw what was happening and grabbed the strap he’d caught and pulled it away from her neck. “Breathe! Breathe!” She did, a great shuddering breath went through her, and she rolled up, pulled her knees to her chest, rocking, rocking. He was rubbing her back, her sternum. She wheezed out, “That’s better. I can nearly breathe again. Did I break my neck?”
Nicholas quickly looked back to see Radu hadn’t moved. He still pressed the scalpel to Isabella’s throat. He was watching them, a strange expression on his face. As for Isabella, she looked frozen, probably too terrified to move.
“No, your neck’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t see I was choking you.” Instead of saving her he could have killed her. He brought her close, continued to rub her shoulders, her neck. When she was breathing easily once again, she looked over at Radu Ardelean, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the empty expanse between them.
She looked down. There wasn’t a floor between them. It was gone. It had opened, and she’d fallen through.
