There was something damaging in that needle, and it’s rocketing around in me while I wait for an ambulance, and then for doctors to run their tests.
I don’t have time to wait.
Charlotte’s words pop into my brain. “A chemure tab. I need a chemure tab! He’s poisoned me, and that’s the only thing that can stop it. If you wait for the ambulance, I’ll be dead. Hurry!”
Johnson crouches beside me, gripping my hand even through the film of sick covering my skin. That’s humanity, right there. “You heard the princess,” he calls over his shoulder to another officer. “Get a chemure tab from the infirmary.”
While I can tell the third officer isn’t thrilled about taking orders from an inmate, the gravitas of one of their own damaging an inmate gives me the sway I need to move his feet in the direction of the infirmary.
“Bottom drawer!” I call after him, quickening his steps.
How much of that serum was needed to kill me? How long do I have left to live?
I grip Johnson’s hand and look him dead in the eye. He’s almost a friend to me, and dying without a friend to hold onto isn’t the way I want to go out. Part of my soul connects that much deeper to this man for staying with me while I’m on the brink.
“Deep breaths. The chemure tab is on the way. The EMT is on the way.”
But part of me knows, as the icy pain creeps through more of my body, that it might be too late for me.
I hold tighter to Johnson’s hand. “If I die, tell Sloan that I love him. Tell him that he did everything he could to give me a good life, and that this is not his fault.”
Johnson’s eyes widen. “It’s going to be okay. The ambulance is coming quick, and Leif is grabbing the chemure tabs now.”
“Tell Charlotte and Cass to keep going. They have a whole world waiting for them when they get out. Buy them ice cream, and tell them it’s from me.”
Johnson shushes me, not necessarily to shut me up, but more to quell the anxiety spiking through me. “Hey, I’m right here. I’m not checking out, and neither are you.”
His two small sentences are a big deal to me, but I try not to cling too hard to the peace they offer. “Tell Paxton to be brave, because his kindness makes the world better. And tell Gray…”
But I don’t know how to sum up all the things I want to make sure Gray understands. He’s been my constant companion through this, never leaving me to drown. He’s sacrificed what little peace he had to try and give me a modicum of calm. Then he had to watch while everyone did their best to snatch that small gift from my hands.
My grip goes slack as the poison races through me. “Tell Gray that I will always love him. We’ll be together on the other side.”
I’m not sure if I mean the afterlife, or on the outside of Prigham’s. Either way, I will find the man who saw the private, insecure version of me I don’t let anyone peer at for too long.
I do not have parting words for my father, and that, I decide, is the best gift I can give the man who sent me to this cold prison. Not cursing him to his grave is the most peaceful act I can conjure up, so that’s how I decide we’ll end things. I have a right to my voice, but he doesn’t have a right to mine. So I will die without giving him access to my voice.
Because it is mine.
Then my fingers go numb, and I can’t feel Johnson’s grip any longer.
26
The Last Statement
Arlanna
When I make it clear that I’m ready to die, compassion erases any trace of the stern professional demeanor on Officer Johnson. “Let me get you out of this mess, kiddo.”
It’s a beautiful offer, but I know there’s no getting out for me now. I know it when he lifts me up off the floor and cradles me in his arms, ignoring the splotches of sick and blood that stain his uniform because he dares to be a good person to me.
Every bone jars, every nerve screams while he walks, but my throat is too hoarse to do more than moan as the poison climbs through my veins.
Officer Johnson is careful with his steps as he walks me closer to the infirmary, and luckily, Officer Leif meets us halfway. “I’ve got the chemure tabs!”
I’m too far gone to hope it’s not too late for the tabs to save my life.
Officer Leif pries my mouth open and slips a tab onto my raw tongue. Then he closes my mouth as burbled commands hit the air from their comms.
“I’ll take you to the exit. Easy, Princess.” Officer Johnson is gentle with me as he carries my body down the hall.
I don’t feel a zing of healing race through me. In fact, when Johnson jostles me by mistake, I realize that I don’t feel much of anything anymore.
When we reach the end of the hall, instead of turning right, he turns left, which I know is the way to the warden’s office. “Where are we going?”
His feet pick up the pace. “I need you to trust me. I’ll get you to the ambulance as soon as it’s here. But before that, we’re going to do something.”
When panic plagues my features, he softens, though his pace doesn’t slow. “The warden’s on his way to see to Kyle. I’ve got an idea of how to change people’s minds about the Sins of the Father bill. You want the system to change? This might help.”
I have no idea what his plan is, but I’m too weak to protest anything. I’m holding onto consciousness with a weak grip, so all I can do is hope I make it out of this intact.
The door to the warden’s office is closed, but Johnson has a key that he manages to jam into the doorknob without dropping me. “I found out this morning that the warden knew about Kyle’s obsession with you. That’s why, when you told me you wanted to go to the infirmary today at lunch, I didn’t let you go. Granted, I didn’t realize the extent of it all, but the warden hired him knowing his history with your family. Easy, easy.” Johnson lays me across the warden’s desk, and then situates my hair, like he’s posing me for a picture.
I’m slathered with vomit and blood, but he makes no effort to hide that as he splays my arms out just so. It’s the least sexy photo spread I’ve ever posed for, but finally I begin to catch on when he tugs his cell phone out of his pocket and aims it my way.
“You want to take a picture of me to show it to the world?”
“On the warden’s desk. They’ll put together that he knew what he was doing, and he let it happen. They’ll no doubt get photos of you in the hospital, all bandaged up, but this is what they should see. You want things to change? This is a good place to start.”
“You’ll lose your job,” I protest, though I know I should take the help and run with it. A picture of me in Natalia’s Secret lingerie launched a successful career in modeling. Could a picture of my pain have the same victory in changing the world?
Johnson lets out an airy snort. “You’ve lost your freedom. I can go through the hassle of filling out job applications to find something new. I only took this position to help keep you all safe. Now that I see that’s not in the cards, I want to help shut this place down. I’ve overheard enough of your mealtime conversations to know we’re on the same team.”
I can’t hide my shock, even as he starts taking pictures from all angles.
Once my mind catches up, I do my part to look as on-the-brink-of-death as I feel.
His comm crackles that the EMT vehicle is pulling in through the security gate. “That’ll have to do. One more thing: if we’re going big, then let’s really do this.”
I can’t sit up. The room starts to spin as he races to the filing cabinet in the corner and rips it open. He rifles through a few things, and then pulls out a folder.
“I need you to smuggle this out. If I did it, I wouldn’t have the proper connections to get it to where it needs to go. Give this to someone in your father’s organization that you trust. They’ll know what to do with it.”
“W-what is it?” I should protest as he unzips the top half of my jumpsuit and presses the folder atop my aching ribs.
He closes the papers inside my jumpsuit as he zips me
back up. “Proof that the money your parents pay to send you all here isn’t all going to Prigham’s or the government. Some of it gets ‘lost’ along the way. Track the money trail, and you’ll have a smoking gun big enough to shut this place down.”
Johnson lifts me off the desk, charging us out the door. I want to hug him, but my arms are too weak. I want so many things in this moment, chief of all being my life. I don’t want to die in this place, but as my heart begins to slow, I realize our detour to find the materials to set the prisoners free just might end up costing me my life.
The coroner will find the papers. He’ll give them to Sloan when he comes to claim my body, and Sloan will know what to do. One way or another, Gray, Charlotte, Cass and Paxton will be set free.
Even if I’m not.
I can’t feel my legs anymore.
My eyes close, and even though I know I’m moving towards the help I need, I realize with a grave certainty that it might be too late.
27
Tea and IV
Sloan
My fingers tent in front of my lips as I sit with my elbows perched on the most uncomfortable chair known to man. I turned the volume down of the machine monitoring Arly’s heart because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Like I need a machine to tell me my little girl’s heart beats strong enough for me to survive. I know she’s not going to die, because I wouldn’t be able to handle it if she did.
I’m this close to making her an orphan because Conan’s taking his sweet time getting here.
It’s been three days, and he’s still dealing with the folder we found on Arly when she was brought in. Conan claims he can’t get away right now, that uncovering the truth about the king is more important.
That’s rubbish, and we both know it. He’s scared to look his daughter in the face, because every injury on her is his fault. She wouldn’t be in such a vulnerable position, were it not for him.
Every time the nurse comes in to check on her, I learn a new way to care for her. My phone dings, reminding me it’s time to wake her so she can try to drink a few swallows of water. Standing from my chair, I use the controls on the side rail to tilt the head of the bed upright.
I lean over her, my voice quiet as I trace the crest of her cheek. “Arly. Wake up, Arly-Barley.”
It’s the worst nickname, and one she never stops groaning at. What I wouldn’t give to draw a noise of derision from her now.
She’s a long way from lucid, but when her eyes open, I pray that they fix on my face. I want her to know she’s safe, and that I’m here.
The cup of water in my hand shakes as I tip it to her lips. “Have a drink.”
With each gulp, her gaze begins to focus until finally, I’m almost certain she recognizes me. “Sloan?”
It’s not like me to get choked up, but the lump rises in my throat all the same. “I’m right here.”
“Where?” Her eyes dart around as she tries to put the pieces together. “Where am I?”
Relief floods me. It’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in far too long. “You’re in Journey Fae hospital. They’re treating you for asmenisk poisoning, among other things.”
She takes another swallow of the water I offer her. I know I should fetch the doctor, but I can’t force myself away. Though she’s a woman now, when I look at her, I so clearly see the little girl with band-aids on her knees, begging me to let her paint my fingernails pink.
“Asmenisk? And I didn’t die from it?” Her eyes flick from left to right. “That’s a deadly poison!”
I can’t imagine if she had died. “I’m afraid you’re still stuck with me.” I kiss her forehead. “The chemure tab kept the asmenisk from doing its worst. You’re a long way from healed, but you’ll get there.”
A tear leaks out of the corner of her eye, so my handkerchief rushes to dab it away. “I don’t want to go back there.”
Heaviness weights any optimism I wish I could rely on. “I know. The folder you smuggled out gave us a head start on a lot of things, but without proper outrage from the people, it still might not be enough. The cabinet might think they can ignore the kinks in the system because no one else knows they exist.”
She squints, confused. “Enough for what?”
“Enough to close down Prigham’s and destroy the Sins of the Father bill.”
Her mouth pops open, and pure wonder paints her features. My heart swells when I can see the reverence in her that’s aimed directly at me. Every father dreams his daughter will look at him like that—like he’s capable of righting all the wrongs in the world. I’m spoiled by her sweetness far too often, yet still I crave this adoration she saves just for me.
My little girl reaches up and clumsily pats my unshaven cheek. “You’re always reaching higher than everyone else. I missed you.”
I exhale a portion of a laugh. “I know the feeling. I’m fairly certain this is the first time my heart has beaten in months. I had your stylist come in and brush out your hair while you were under. She gave you a manicure and a pedicure. I wasn’t sure what else you wanted, but I’ll send for whatever you need.”
“You,” she confesses. “I only need you. Everyone else is weird.” Then her nose scrunches. “Except for my friends at Prigham’s. I need your help.” She casts around for something, but then realizes her arms have limited mobility, due to the IV and heart monitor. “Can you take down a list for me?”
“Of course. Your job is to lie down. I’ll take care of everything else.”
She looks at me as if I’m her sun and moon. I’ve missed that look. I’ve never understood what it is that Conan busies himself with that could be more satisfying than that.
Though she’s been awake all of one minute, she’s already getting down to business.
That’s my girl.
“I need my home on the Henley property set up. Stock it with nonperishables, clothes, everything. When the following people are released from Prigham’s, I need you to help set them up there with whatever they need: Cassia Chang, Charlotte Bronson, Grayson Knight.” Then she casts me a culpable look. “And Paxton.”
I write down the names, but pause when she mentions the last one. “Prince Paxton?” My mouth firms. “I told you to stay away from him. You know how your father feels about the two of you being in the same place.”
I shrug. “Not my problem. Neither Paxton nor I sent ourselves to Prigham’s. Paxton’s a wonderful man. We should never have been separated.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “There’s more to it than you could possibly guess.”
She can’t give me a proper bristle of indignation, but she straightens in her halfway upright hospital bed. “More to it, like my access to the old magic means that I can enhance the abilities of those around me? Is that it? That, given the right push, I can connect others to their own ancient fae magic?”
I cease all movement, wondering how she could possibly know that. I’ve gone to great lengths to make sure that never came to light.
My voice croaks when I finally speak. “Have you stopped taking your tea? I know you didn’t run out.”
True hurt slashes across her delicate features. “You knew? What was the tea supposed to do?”
Though I wish we weren’t mired in this mess, I know well enough when I’m caught. I set down my pocket notebook and pen, plopping down in my chair with a weighty wish that I didn’t have to come clean about things I’ve been able to keep secret her entire life. I must be really off my game.
“There are things you don’t need to bother with. All you need to know is that the tea is important. How long has it been since your last cup?”
“I don’t know. Months?”
I jerk forward in my seat. “Months?!” I pat my pockets. “I’ll send for some. Arly, that’s so dangerous. When I tell you to drink your tea, then that’s what you need to do! This is the Vitamin D incident all over again.”
“Letting me go outside is the same as me taking a pill. If you would have let me out in the sunshine, I wou
ldn’t have had to fight you about the Vitamin D!”
“We were in hiding! You can’t go outside if you’re in hiding.” I catch myself and then shake my head in quick jerks. “I tell you to drink your tea, you drink your tea, young lady.”
She throws her head to the side as much as she’s able with a hearty huff. “Tell me what it’s for, young man.”
I quirk my brow at her sass. “You don’t need to know.”
“Then I don’t need to drink it.”
I lean forward, unsure what the right move is. I’m out of sorts and on edge. It’s just enough to loosen my tongue, though I know I shouldn’t.
My baby girl almost died. Maybe she does deserve the truth. Maybe if she knew, she would drink her tea, like she’s supposed to.
My elbows rest on my knees. I fix her with a stare that tells Arly I’m none too happy with her. “Your family comes from old magic,” I begin, though why this solicits an eye roll from her, I couldn’t begin to say. “We didn’t know how that would manifest through the generations. It was fading in your family’s bloodline, like it does with most everyone else. But when you were born, your father’s gift of persuasion grew far more powerful. Your mother went from ‘having a feeling’ about a person to straight up seeing their auras. Every year you aged, the magic grew stronger.”
None of this is surprising her.
Bollocks. She knows far more than she should.
I clear my throat. “It was exciting at first, but then one night, your father told your mother to go away, and she did. Took me nearly a week to track her down, and when I did, she wasn’t angry, she only said she was doing what she was told.”
I watch Arly’s eyes grow rounder.
“That’s when we realized no one’s magic should be that strong. The fae touch was worn down through the ages because the world can’t handle things like what your father could do. You were maybe three or so when we started giving you the tea. It regulates a person’s magic. People with barely any magic to their name take it to strengthen what they have, but it works the other way, too. If you have too much magic, it can muffle it a bit. Take you down to a normal level.”
Sins of the Mother: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrificed Book 2) Page 16