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40
Gifts of the Afterlife
Something was missing. Something Cassidy was on guard for. Something…smoke. The sweet bite of flaming cedar. Gone. It must be daytime again.
Or she was dead.
Opening her eyes felt like pouring wet sand across her eyeballs. The afterlife slowly came into focus. It looked an awful lot like a hospital room.
Her thoughts stumbled around her skull, looking for answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask. She blinked several times and scanned the details of her surroundings. A window with drapes drawn, subdued lighting. The colorful bouncing lines of a vital stats monitor, a mechanical chill in the air. A TV suspended near the ceiling was tuned to a muted football game.
She started furrowing her forehead in confusion, but even this tiny effort bordered on too much work.
“Baby girl? You awake?”
No. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Her father, the large, boisterous coward of a man who couldn’t handle illness, much less hospitals, leaned over her. The recessed lighting above her head highlighted the worry lines in his round, unshaven face. His presence was so incongruous she could only stare.
His smile beamed like a full moon. Was that moisture glinting in his eyes? He took her hand and squeezed. “You’re going to be fine, Cassidy. You’re at a top-notch hospital. They’re patching you up.” He swiped at his eyes. “You’ll be good as new, baby girl. Good as new.”
Cassidy was more disoriented than ever. She had been held hostage by a vampire, brought within kissing distance of death, was certain she would be an immortal blood-drinker by the time she could string two coherent thoughts together again, and now it was her father—her father who couldn’t possibly know what happened to her—who was telling her she would be all right?
She licked her lips and swallowed. “Where…where is—”
“Jackson? He went to get us some coffee. Should be back any minute.” He tapped a half-collapsed bag hanging off an IV hook with one finger and chuckled with obvious relief. “They told me you’d probably come around with this one. Wasn’t gonna chance missing you wake up.”
A dark-red tube ran from the bag. She followed it with her eyes to the other end, where it was attached to an infusion needle embedded in and taped to her left arm.
“That’s right, baby girl. Take as much as you need. Even if it’s my last drop.” Another swipe at his eyes. “Yeah, that’s mine.” He turned his free arm to reveal a bandage in the crook of his elbow. “By the time I got here, you had cleared them out of O-negative just to pull you back through death’s door, so I said ‘plug me in’. I’m the reason you’re stuck with this blood type, after all. Besides, I owe you.”
She pulled her hand out of his. “What you owe me, a pint of blood will never make up for.”
He inclined his head, pushed out his lips, and nodded. “I know that, too, but maybe…it could be a down payment?”
Cassidy closed her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at her. She couldn’t think about this. Not now.
The awkward silence grew so thick it squeezed all the air out of the room. It all rushed back in when the door opened to admit Jackson.
“Any change?”
“She’s awake. But she still hates me.”
Jackson put down two steaming paper cups and cellophane-wrapped muffins and came to her side. Dressed in blue jeans and a polo shirt, he looked like his typical deceptively casual self, but something about his movements made her head hurt. They were smoother, easier, more efficient than was usual for his tightly wound, muscle-bound frame.
“Cass? Babe? How are you feeling?”
“What is he doing here?” she said, shooting a narrow glance toward her father.
“I’m your father, and you need me. Of course, I’m here.”
She gaped at him. It looked like her father, but certainly didn’t behave like the man who couldn’t be bothered to show up for his wife’s chemo treatments. Maybe she really had died. Too much felt off here.
Jackson softly cleared his throat. “Gil’s blood saved your life.” His hand settled on hers. “Cass, you were halfway turned. The serum annihilated everything we put in you until we finally drowned it out. With your dad’s blood.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “It was close.”
She opened her mouth but stopped. Her sluggish thoughts connected the dots a little faster now and the picture they painted felt ominous. Being restored to humanity was a bonus, true, but that hadn’t been the plan, especially not this late in the game. Dominique was going to give her his blood. Kambyses would have allowed nothing else short of letting her die—certainly not her getting carted off to a hospital. Yet here she was. And no vampire in sight…
