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“I can, and I will. It falls on me anyway. You all know it.” The guy that was protesting pales and stops arguing. They all do.
“What the hell is going on?" I demand, beyond done with their presence. "Are you going to leave, or do I need to ask for security?”
Drake motions me over, away from anyone else. I debate asking for removal but decide at this point if it’ll make him leave quicker, I’ll go along with it. “Did Cora ever mention anything weird about my brother?”
I shake my head. “No, and I don’t know what good bringing him up is doing.” Cora has had nightmares about Damien, but I’m not telling him that.
“Fine, it would have been easier to explain. Here, look.” I look at his outstretched hand, and before I realize what he’s doing, he pulls a knife out of his pocket and cuts his hand, tucking the knife back away and holding a finger up to silence my protest. “Watch.” Closing his eyes, he blows on the cut. At first I don’t notice anything, but when he wipes the hand on the inside of his sweatshirt and turns it back over, it’s healed. A bit blood-smudged, but the cut is gone. Not even a scar.
“What the fuck was that?” I’m backing up rapidly until I hit the wall. Drake is shushing me, and the other guys are keeping one eye on the receptionist or whatever she is at the desk across the hall and the other on me.
“It’s okay, I promise. I told you, I can help Cora. But everything has its price. I can’t do it alone, and it has to be someone close to her.” Drake’s gaze turns pitying, and I don’t bother to ask who has to pay the price.
I’m already guilty of killing our baby and putting her in here, as much as Damien is. I’ll pay whatever price is required. “How much?”
“It’s not money. It’s life force. An exchange, if you will. I- I don’t know what the price will be beyond that. You may not- I’m sorry.”
I get it then. I’ll be trading my life for hers. It’s the least I can do for her at this point. I tuck away all my hopes and dreams of the future and reconcile myself to this being the end.
“How do I do it? And how long will I have? Will I at least get to say goodbye?” I can’t imagine not getting to at least do that much, but if that’s part of the price, then so be it.
“Yes, you’ll be able to say goodbye. Not much more than that. As soon as she’s in a private enough recovery area, get us in there. A prayer circle, make up whatever excuse you need. We’ll go find the required supplies and be back soon.” He puts his hand on my shoulder but remains silent and just gives it a squeeze before departing, the others following him out.
I do decide to make the call to Cora’s family, and when her step-brother answers, he has tears in his voice. “Is she okay? I heard from Damien’s family. I’m so, so sorry, Kael. I thought it would put an end to his obsession; he wasn’t a bad guy.”
“She’s still in surgery, but she lost the baby and won’t be able to ever have another. That’s on me for telling you. But I don’t care what you have to say about Damien. He was a horrible person and terrorized Cora." My voice breaks at the anguish choking me and I have to take a breath before I can continue. "The doctors aren’t sure if she’s going to pull through. Thought I’d do the right thing and let you know. That’s all I got for you. Have a nice life.” I hang up, not feeling any better, but at least he knows what he caused now.
Sitting down, I pull out the small notepad Cora keeps on hand for to-do lists for the move and baby and begin writing a letter. It’s hard to get started, but when I do, it all pours out. Every apology, every hope and dream I'd had for us, and every encouragement I can give her now. I try to include anything I can think of, and by the time I’m done, it’s three front and back notebook pages. I sign, Love you always, Kael, tear the pages out, and fold them into the envelope with our marriage certificate. Hopefully, she'll understand to look in it from the note I’ll leave her. I don’t trust Drake and company to not snoop or possibly hide it from her.
Before I’m really ready, they come back into the waiting room, and Drake nods at me to follow him to the men’s room. Upon entering, he blocks the door with a trash can.
“Take off your shirt. Fair warning, this will probably hurt a bit.” He sets out a rolled up leather pouch, and when he begins unrolling it, my eyes widen.
“What the hell are those?” He has all manner of sharp implements and little vials of unidentifiable matter.
“We’re a sect of something between a druid and a warlock, as you might know it. A crossbreed if you will. We’re currently known as the Order, but there have been other names over the years, and other sects have different titles. That’s about all I can explain in this short amount of time.”
I have so much more I want to ask, but fixing Cora is my number one priority here. I stand, bent over the sink and shirtless, when he carves the first line. When he’s done, there are crooked cuts that make up what I’d loosely describe as scales.
“They’re the sign we use for balance. We’re going to tip the “scales” in Cora’s favor and against yours. I’m not proficient yet. This was more Damien’s area than mine. If I did it correctly, the next steps will prove it.” He doesn’t waste any time before dumping a chalky blue powder into his hand and rubbing it into the carvings in my skin.
I bury my face in my shoulder, trying to muffle the yell that escapes despite my best efforts to keep it in. Drake turns the tap on and urges me further down before rinsing the powder and blood off, leaving a dyed light blue scar in the shape of the scales. It looks like a faded tattoo with a brighter blue dot directly over my heart.
“Please tell me you don’t have to do this to Cora too?” I’m really hoping the answer is no.
Drake grants my wish. “No, nothing so drastic. You did the hard part. Well, almost all of it. The hardest part is yet to come, but from what I could find, it shouldn’t hurt if that’s worth anything.” It’s really not, but oh well. “One last thing. I need some of your blood.” The hesitancy in Drake’s tone has me suspicious.
“Okay, but why?” He doesn’t seem as if he’s going to answer for a moment.
“Essentially, Damien’s legacy passed on to me, but what no one besides the other four out there know, and now you, is that we did a blood pact when we were younger, it lets us draw from each other without much effort. It was dumb, and we didn’t understand the consequences at the time. This is the only reason I can do this without a full-on coven to help me. But it has to be directed through will and flesh. So, the blood. I’ll take a bit from all of us, we’ll get it into the IV transfusion bag, and as soon as we start to feel the drain, we’ll— we’ll direct it to you.” He turns his face down to the floor, shame written across it.
They don't actually need me. They can save her themselves, but one or more may not survive the drain, so it's on me to do it. I want to get pissed, but really, what power do I have in this situation? There’s nothing to do without their help, and as skeptical as I am, I have to try.
“I understand,” I reply softly. Drake brings his gaze up and nods his head, turning to get a basic blood draw kit. He has a whole compartment full of them in his workbag, workroll, whatever the thing is.
It only takes a few moments until the vial is filled, and I’m putting my shirt back on over the band-aid on my arm.
“Send the others in, please, when you go out,” Drake requests as he sets up for the others. Again, I nod in agreeance and keep going, sliding the trashcan out of the way as I do.
