Dearest Ivie

by J. R. Ward

  "Not much longer." She rubbed her face. "The end has come so fast. I mean, I want his suffering to be over, but at the same time, I wish there were more nights ahead of us."

  "He seemed like a good guy."

  "He was--is," she corrected herself. "He is a great guy."

  "Your mahmen wanted to come, but she was too choked up."

  "I'd rather her not see me cry. I'm also not too crazy that you had to."

  "You know, Ivie, I'm so proud of you." As Hirah got hoarse, he reached for her hand. "You're such a female of worth. And the fact that you're not running from him? From this? When Rubes first called me, I was sad for you. But my next thought, as she told me you were staying by his side? My next thought was that's my daughter. That's the female I raised. You and I are alike, we always have been--hell, with the way you are right now? I think you're stronger than me, actually."

  "No one's stronger than you, Daddy."

  He squeezed her palm. "Look in the mirror, Ivie."

  When her dad left about forty-five minutes later, Ivie reflected that the visit was probably the nicest thing he'd ever done for her. He was not the kind of male who was comfortable in "fancy" surroundings, and God knew he hated medical anything with a passion.

  Hell, he'd been known to set his own bones from time to time just to avoid going anywhere near the clinic.

  Yet for her, he had overridden all of that and come here.

  Sometimes just showing up in person meant everything.

  And as Hirah took his leave, it wasn't because dawn was coming, although it was, but rather because he seemed to sense that her being away from Silas was difficult.

  After Ivie walked him out to one of the elevators and sent him on his way, she decided that when Silas finally passed, she would go to her parents' and stay a couple of days. The idea of being alone in her apartment was enough to make her crazy in the hypothetical alone.

  Ivie hurried back for the VIP unit, and then once again, took the family corridor instead of the back staff way into Silas's room because it was more direct.

  As she pushed the door wide, she stopped short.

  Havers was in the sitting room, the race's doctor seated on the silk sofa, his legs crossed knee on knee, his tortoiseshell glasses off as he rubbed his eyes.

  He put his spectacles on as soon as her presence registered and got to his feet.

  Ivie's heart began to pound. As much as she knew they had reached the final corner, she didn't want to hear the truth she knew in her heart. She didn't want to know that it was time for life support to be removed. She couldn't bear the thought that...

  ...the goodbye was here.

  "I have an idea," the healer said. "It's radical and has never been tried before. But I have something that might work for him."

  Chapter Fifteen

  "I'm sorry--I'm--what? I'm sorry?"

  Ivie was stuttering, but that was what happened when your boss suggested he might possibly have a way out of hell for you. As well as a flashlight for the trail, some protein bars, and a CamelBak full of fresh water.

  Or something like that.

  "Well, I have often wondered whether a disease such as this might not respond to a bone marrow transplant. As you know, vampire immune systems are unique to us, and though there are some parallels with that of humans, they are far from identical. Our systems are far hardier, which is why we do not get cancer, but that is precisely the problem in a patient such as your mate. If we suppress immunity too much, it rebounds into even greater aggression, creating further difficulties--yet if we just let it go, it destroys his organs anyway."

  Ivie was struggling to keep up with the words, even though none of them were unfamiliar. "So what are you suggesting?"

  "What if we could reboot his immunity with something evolutionarily inferior, but medically and biologically preferable."

  "I'm not following?"

  "He is an aristocrat. From a Founding Family. As a result of inbreeding among the glymera, his immune system has, in effect, been compromised by a limited gene pool which allowed a recessive mutation to become a dominant one, resulting in the Crane's defect he suffers from. What if we found a civilian donor, one of socially lesser breeding who was, for that very reason, far more hardy and healthy? We would need to find one who was a blood match and it must be a male, but it is possible that an infusion of new marrow will cause his immune system to restart and better regulate, in effect."

  Ivie looked around. "Forgive me, I must sit down--"

  "Here, come here."

  She felt her elbow get taken in a strong grip and then she was escorted over to the sofa he had been on.

  Good timing. The cushions came under her just as her knees went out.

  "Have you ever tried a bone marrow transplant before?" she asked.

  "No, I have not. This is highly theoretical. And it goes without saying, if it doesn't cure him, it most certainly will kill him. He could die from the high-dose chemotherapy that will be required to kill his own cells. He could reject the transplant. He could have a reaction to the anti-rejection medications. The transplant itself could fail to address the immunity issues. His organs could be too far gone to regenerate themselves. Or there could be infection or one of any number of catastrophic events."

  "But it is worth trying?" she said.

  Havers eased himself down beside her. Taking her hand, he looked her right in the eye. "If it were me, and I had someone like you waiting for me on the far side of an illness? I would try it. I would try it a hundred times over. It's his only chance to be with you."

  * * *

  --

  It was a mobilization of staff and resources the likes of which Ivie had never seen.

  Within one hour of the decision being made, and thanks to the efforts of the staff to call in their grandfathers, fathers, uncles, brothers and cousins, hundreds of male vampires showed up at the clinic, forming lines for blood samples. There was no waiting around for results, though. Because it was so close to dawn, the donors came in, were assigned numbers, and quickly had blood drawn before racing off so that they were not stuck during the day because of the sunrise.

  Meanwhile, Ivie stayed at Silas's bedside, getting updates not just from Rubes, but the other nurses.

  The match required for the transplant went far beyond that of type. There had to be three other vital identicals, and Silas's own blood provided the necessary markers.

  "Stay with me," she whispered as she smoothed Silas's hair back. "We need more time. Listen to my voice...stay with me..."

  As the ventilator pumped fresh oxygen into his lungs, his chest jerked up and down, a tire inflating and deflating in an unnatural way. And to that drumbeat, the monitoring machines added a chorus of different beeping and winking.

  She hated all of it. Compared to the stillness and silence of him, everything else in the hospital room seemed loud and glaring. She just wanted it to be all turned off so he might hear her through the coma, but there was no doing that.

  From time to time, she glanced at the ornate clock across the way.

  Hours were slipping away.

  Daylight was here.

  What if they didn't find a match? What if he died before they located someone who could help him?

  And hell, even if they did find somebody, then she had to worry about all the complications and the failure of the--

  "Stop it," she told herself. "One step at a time."

  She checked the clock again. Even though that was stupid. God, when was the last time she had had anything to drink or eat? It didn't seem to matter. Her body wasn't hungry or calling out for water. It was as if she were in a stasis, just as he was.

  "You stay with me, Silas..."

  She wished there was some way to ask him what he wanted to do, what kind of risks he was willing to take, whether this was the sort of desperate Hail Mary he wanted. She didn't like making the decision for him, but she had to believe that he would choose to take the gamble--

/>   A nurse stuck her head in without knocking. "We have a match!"

  Ivie jerked to her feet. "We do?"

  "I don't know who the donor is. Just the number--but we're going to send an ambulance to him and bring him back in right now."

  At that moment, Havers entered the room. "Yes, we have good news." The physician smiled, but not for long. "We need to move Silas to an isolation OR and commence the chemotherapy now. Harvesting the bone marrow will not take long, but the drugs he needs will require about six hours to administer. And then, after the transplant, we just have to wait and see."

  Ivie turned to Silas. "Did you hear that? It's time."

  She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "I love you. Fight for us, okay? Fight with everything you have. I'm here waiting. Even if you can't hear me, know that I'm never far. I will not leave you, now or ever."

  It was so hard to straighten and step back.

  But she couldn't get in the way of this.

  More staff people came in and the talk was fast, urgent, and technical, and Ivie found herself backing up until her shoulder blades hit the far wall. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched as Silas was prepared for transport to the regular units. The VIP suite had the vast majority of equipment and resources, but some were so specialized, such as an isolation ORs, that if patients like Silas required them, they had to be moved.

  "Pritchard needs to be here," she said to everybody and no one. "Could someone please call his majordomo and send a pickup for her as well? She'll want to be here."

  Rubes came over. "Absolutely. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

  "Can I meet the donor?" Ivie heard herself say.

  "I don't know who it is. I haven't been part of the testing process, but I'm sure, if he's willing, you can do that."

  "I really just want to thank him."

  "Clear the way, please, thank you, clear the way..."

  As someone began maneuvering the hospital bed into the discreet staff hall, Ivie reached out and touched Silas's shoulder for what might well be the last time.

  "I love you," she called out, suddenly panicked. "I love you!"

  And then he was gone.

  Along with half the monitoring equipment.

  Ivie could have tried to follow, but she knew she would just be in the way: She wasn't anything professional at the moment. She was pure family member.

  So the best thing for her to do was stand here and collect herself. Then she would proceed to the other unit he was going to be in. But she would give the staff a chance to get him settled first; the thing was, her fellow nurses were stressed and distracted by her presence. Worried about her, horrified for her, they couldn't help but keep one eye on her, and everything had to be about Silas now.

  No, she would wait here for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and then she would go.

  Ivie stared at the blank hole in the room where the bed and the equipment had been. There were a couple of wrappers and a stray latex glove on the floor. That would all get cleaned up before the next patient was brought in.

  It would not be Silas.

  If this worked, he was going to have to be in isolation for--

  "Ivie?"

  Jumping to attention, she looked at the nurse who had entered. "Is he okay--oh, God, did he code--"

  "The donor is coming in right now? He checked on his paperwork that he was fine with not being anonymous, so I thought you'd like to meet him in reception?"

  Ivie took a deep breath. "Yes. Please. Thank you."

  The trip from the VIP unit to the normal reception area took forever, the endless lefts and rights and the ride up one floor in the elevator necessary because the blacked-out ambulance needed to be garaged from the daylight before anyone could disembark, and that only happened at the main entrance to the entire subterranean facility.

  When she came out into the waiting room and non-emergent triage area, she looked around the largest open area in the clinic, seeing the chairs and tables for patients and families to hang out at as well as the play area for the young, and the registration desk that had three staffers manning computers even during daylight hours.

  "He'll be coming out of these elevators."

  Ivie let herself get led over to the left and then she had to pace around.

  When the doors finally slid open, she stopped and stared. A tall young male was standing between a female who was not a vampire, but not a human, either, and...a human male.

  "Are you Ivie?" the blond female asked as they stepped free.

  Ivie nodded and cleared her throat. "Ah, yes, yes, I am."

  "I'm Doc Jane. I'm here to help with harvesting the bone marrow. This is Dr. Manello."

  "Hey," the human said with an easy smile. His eyes were direct, however, and she had a sense of pent-up energy--as if he were impatient to get to work.

  Dear God, Ivie thought. The Black Dagger Brotherhood's private healers. Ivie had heard that they sometimes consulted Havers--and clearly offered the same service in return. Yet they were humans?

  Oh, who cared if they could save Silas.

  "And this is Ruhn. The donor."

  The male in question stepped forward, removing a knit wool cap. "Madam. I'm very sorry about your mate. I'm glad I can--"

  Ivie didn't care that they were strangers. She bum-rushed him with a hug, snapping her arms out and around him and holding on tight.

  "Thank you," she said through a choked throat. "Thank you for this gift."

  There was a pause and then he returned the embrace. "I just hope this works."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Standing outside the isolation unit, Ivie stared through the glass at the hospital bed. Silas looked so small in it, so alone, and she wished she could go in there and sit with him. Infection control started now, however. Even though she could put on the protective suit and take other precautions, in the end, the fewer people he came in contact with, the safer for him.

  She had no idea what time it was. What day it was.

  She was vaguely aware that Rubes had been coming in at regular intervals to make her eat and drink, but the last twelve hours were a blur.

  The chemotherapy they'd given Silas was so strong that it had done its job in a matter of hours, killing off all of Silas's malfunctioning immune cells--as well as a whole host of other things.

  How he was still alive, she hadn't a clue. Currently they were flushing his body with fluids, trying to help his liver and kidneys do their job, and there was a cold wrap around his head to keep his brain circulation down.

  Not for the first time, she worried that they were just killing him in a different way. What if he came out of this a vegetable? Alive, but dead for all intents and purposes because who he was was gone forever, his mind addled by the chemotherapy, his organs fried, his--

  "Ivie, they're bringing in the bone marrow."

  At the sound of Rubes's voice, she jumped. "Sorry, I'm..."

  A mess.

  Her cousin smiled gently. "It's okay."

  And there it was. An IV bag of red stuff that could have been, not to be gross, a cherry sauce or maybe something with tomatoes in it or perhaps a latex paint that had been frozen and lost some of its structural integrity.

  The nurse who was handling it was dressed in a loose white isolation suit, her face and hair covered by a mask and a hood, her feet tucked into booties. And as she passed by, she lifted the bag to Ivie as if to acknowledge that it represented all kinds of things: hope, love, a possible future against the odds.

  Ivie nodded her thanks.

  Then she watched as the nurse entered the isolation unit's sealed-off anteroom. There, another staff member, in similar garb, was waiting, and it was that nurse who was the one to take the bag to Silas's bedside.

  As the donated marrow was hooked up to the central venous line's feed, Ivie shook her head and glanced at her cousin. "The donor was such a good guy. So generous. I told him...you know, it was really important to me tha
t he knew in his heart it wasn't his fault if this fails. I told him over and over again that his gift was amazing and Silas and I are grateful to him no matter the outcome."

  She had been in the OR with Ruhn during the harvesting because she had wanted to support him and participate in the process somehow--and she couldn't be with Silas right now.

  "Your father called me again," Rubes said. "And your mom."

  "They have been great. Did you tell them I was okay?"

  Did you lie for me, Rubes? she thought.

  "I did. I lied."

  As her cousin looked over with that sad smile again, Ivie put her arm around the female. Funny, for all their lives, since they were kids, Ivie had...well, not exactly written Rubes off for being a little scattered and falsely optimistic, but she had certainly viewed her cousin as not as strong as herself.

  Wrong. Rubes had proven to be equally made of granite.

  Just because her outside was as bouncy as her red curly hair did not mean the core wasn't solid.

  "I love you, Rubes."

  "I love you, too, Ivie."

  As Ivie's eyes went to the tubing that ran from the bag now hanging with the rest of the IV fluids and drugs, through the dispensing computer, and out the other side to Silas's port, she prayed this was going to work.

  And that if it did, the results were something he wouldn't blame her for.

  * * *

  --

  Time crawled by.

  The staff members were so kind, moving a bed directly outside the isolation room, putting it right against the glass so that when Ivie laid her head on the pillow, all she had to do was open her eyes and there was Silas.

  People brought food. Her parents visited her. So did other members of her family.

  The donor stopped by a couple of times. The Black Dagger Brotherhood's physicians visited and consulted. Nurses in those white protective suits went in and out of the annex and the room itself. Havers was always around.

  To keep her own body from breaking down, Ivie put herself on a schedule of eating and bathing and sleeping, literally setting her iPhone alarms to make sure she stayed focused on basic needs. Clothes from home were brought in, and she was pretty sure the entire staff was making her hot dishes on a rotation schedule, but it was so hard to track anything.

  It was kind of like having a high fever, an essential disconnection putting her on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean, anything from her environment--whether it was food, conversation, or movement--having to travel a great distance to get to her.