“And you still have to understand, your family can’t know
what I am. It’s fine now because we’re both supposedly in school.
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But if we’re still together when you graduate, they’ll want to see me
in the daytime.”
“When I graduate and when we’re still together, we’ll figure
something out. We’ll say you have some weird disease and you
can’t handle UV exposure. They’ll think it’s weird, but they won’t
turn away someone I love.” I leaned forward and kissed her, trying
to soothe her stress away. “And what about Dalhem? He’s married
to a human. Maybe he can help us think of something. I mean we
still have, what, three years and half years till I graduate? And then
I’m supposed to go off on my own anyway. You said yourself, let’s
just handle things as they come.” I took a deep breath, looking at my
hands. “My dad thinks you’re the one for me.”
“He does?” Her hopeful expression broke my heart. I wanted
my family to meet her now more than ever, just to see the love she
was capable of.
“Yeah. And I agree with him.” I felt the waterworks bubbling
over. I sniffled, holding them back. “So, yes. I want to demon-marry
you.” “Okay, Red,” she said finally. “I still have to talk to Dalhem.
There’s a certain amount of formality to it. Technically, you’ll be
considered a demon, but nothing else has to change. You finish
school, if that’s what you want, and then afterward you remain with
me.”“I like that.”
“I was going to wait until I talked to him, before we made things
more official, but I did want to give you this.” I looked to see a small
box in her hand. The perfect wooden cube was stained a deep brown
and there were roses and vines carved into every surface. Whoever
made it could teach Tiffany a thing or two about presentation.
“You don’t have to wear it. Or we can get you a different one,
but I saw it—”
“On Amazon?”
“Yeah, on Amazon. I saw it and it made me think of you.”
Camila didn’t exactly know how to do it small. There was
probably a hundred thousand dollars worth of lighting in her
apartment alone. When she placed the box in my hand, I opened
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it expecting to find the Hope Diamond. Not my style at all, but a
diamond that suited Camila’s flare for the unique and the expensive.
It took a little elbow grease to work against the small hinges. The
ring inside was perfect. A large round-cut emerald sat nestled in a
slanted arrangement of marquis diamonds fixed to a thick platinum
band. The emerald was big, don’t get me wrong, but the ring was
elegant and something I never knew I would want so badly.
“I want to wait. I don’t have to invite the whole chapter to the
ceremony, do I?” I thought of all the rumors the ring would start.
“No. We can have witnesses if you like, but it’s just between
me and you. Natasha and Rodrick didn’t have anyone at their
na’suulaem—their wedding.”
“Then I’d rather wait till it’s done. I want to whip this bad boy
out when everything is nice and demon-legal.”
“Okay, baby.” Her soft laugh was cut short by another kiss,
a long and slow kiss. I found myself back in her arms, gently but
passionately showing her that my answer was definitely and always
yes. She pulled away eventually, laying a few more sweet pecks on
my lips before she said to me. “Would you like me to hang on to it?”
“Yes. I’ll lose it somewhere.” I handed her the box back and
she placed it on the coffee table. “I feel like we should celebrate or
something.”
“We can, Red. Would you like to go out or would yo—”
I tried to catch Camila before she doubled forward onto the
floor, but I wasn’t fast enough. I slid to the carpet beside her,
leaning to see her eyes squeezed shut. And then pain came. It wasn’t
Camila’s pain, but someone else’s. Someone connected to Camila
and to me. I couldn’t feel it, but I could hear it. In my head, someone
screaming, someone was in horrible pain.
❖
I looked through the thick glass of the hospital room. The
person lying there was not recognizable as my friend. Cleo’s body
was covered head to foot in thick, gauzy bandages. The tan bottoms
of her small toes peeked out through the dressings. Her right arm
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was elevated, supported by a brace. The intricate web of pins and
supports was keeping her arm attached to her body. Tubes and wires
ran from her face and chest to various pumps and monitors around
her bed. Cleo’s pain was muted now, but it was still there, a tight,
constant scream. I felt like if she could have, she would have called
out to Camila or me, but she couldn’t. I wanted to help her, but I
couldn’t.
There had been two cars involved in the accident and a truck.
Cleo had been pinned behind her steering wheel. Debris from the
initial crash had severed her right arm almost completely above the
elbow. Cleo’s doctor had no idea whether she was conscious when
the other car burst in flames, igniting the driver’s side of her Civic.
One driver had died at the scene and the driver of the truck when he
reached the hospital. Cleo was barely holding on.
Camila wrapped her arm around my waist as she, Kina, Faeth,
Omi, and Natasha got more details from Dr. Ronald Fountain, a
feeder who belonged to the brother-king Pax. We stood in the center
of the busy burn unit, shrouded by Faeth’s cloak. I tried to pay
attention, but all I could see were Cleo’s toes. Suddenly, I wanted
my dad.
“The burns cover ninety percent of her body, most of the
damage being on the left side, and it remains to be seen whether
she’ll regain full use of her arm—if she lives through the night,” Dr
Fountain said. “But the tissue lost on her face and upper body will
be a problem. She’s heavily sedated now. She can’t feel—”
“She’s screaming,” I interrupted.
Faeth whipped around in my direction. “You can sense her?”
Immediately, I felt Camila’s eyes on me.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” I said before I explained to the
others. “I can’t…feel her. It’s more like I can hear her. I know I get
no vote in this situation, but do something quickly. She’s in pain.”
I could tell the others had questions, but before they could ask
them Tokyo appeared within the confines of the cloak with Moreland
and her feeder Andrew, the brown-haired boy who had been with
her that night at the restaurant.
“Why is she here?” Camila asked, her fangs flashing brightly.
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“My Queen. I apologize,” Tokyo said. “But I thought Moreland
may be of some use to us. She was close by and she has feeders to
spare.” Camila looked at Moreland and then Andrew. He was taking
“Andrew, look at me,” Camila said. He obeyed, his brown eyes
peering at her respectfully. “Are you prepared to sever your bond
with your Mistress?” she asked him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quietly. I hadn’t noticed before,
but his voice was deep and rough and carried much more confidence
than the first time I’d seen him. “I want to help in any way I can.”
Camila seemed satisfied with that answer, although not particularly
pleased with it. She turned her focus back to Moreland.
“Even though you do not deserve him, I know Andrew is
precious to you. I thank you for your offering of sacrifice.”
“Thank you, my Queen. If he is no longer needed, I will wipe
him completely. He will have no recollection of this night.”
Camila grunted decisively, turning things back over to Dr.
Fountain.
“What are our choices?” Natasha asked.
Camila nodded to the doctor, urging him to give it to them
straight. He glanced at Cleo through the glass.
“You can say it. No one will judge,” Camila said.
“No. No,” he stuttered, realizing she’d read his mind. “My
assistance will be limited in the big picture, and her journey to
recovery will be long and painful. I will do everything in my power
to keep this young lady breathing, but I—if I were her lying in that
bed, if she is feeling right now, I’d want you to end my suffering any
way you can. As quickly as you can. If you can heal her completely?
Tonight? I would do it, my Queen.”
The sister-queens let out a collective mix of groans and swears.
Camila looked from the glass to Dr. Fountain. “I’ll have to look
at her, but I think the amount of blood she’ll need for us to heal her
will change her.”
“Did you talk to her about the change?” Omi asked.
Camila shook her head. “I don’t think she wants it, but we
didn’t talk about it at length.”
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“She…” I hesitated. I already felt like an intruder, but this was
Cleo’s life and it had been my suggestion that they do something
quickly. Someone had to speak up for her if that something meant
Cleo would no longer be human.
“What did she say, Red?” Camila said.
“A few months ago, we were talking and she said she didn’t
want to cut off ties with her family. She said she couldn’t live with
the idea of her mom thinking she was dead if she really wasn’t.
And she mentioned that she had some…religious reservations about
becoming a demon.”
“So do we just let her die?” Faeth said.
“No. We let her decide,” Camila said. “Ginger is right. She is in
pain. I can feel it. We can’t leave her like this.”
Dr. Fountain nodded in understanding. “When you’re finished,
I’ll have the morgue prepare a body and the paperwork. I won’t be
far. Just call me if there’s anything I can do.”
“I will. Thank you,” Camila replied. With that, Dr. Fountain
walked down the hall. He hadn’t turned the corner before Kina
unsealed the door to Cleo’s room and ushered us in. I ignored the
beeps of the monitors and the buzzing of the bright lights overhead.
We stood at the foot of the bed.
“Moreland, please. Cloak the room,” Camila ordered.
“Yes, my Queen.”
“What about Dalhem?” Kina asked. “He didn’t exactly sign off
on this.”
“I’ll deal with him,” Camila replied.
“We’re really going to do this?” Faeth asked.
Camila nodded. “She’s mine and I won’t let her die.”
“She’s going to be so pissed,” Tokyo said.
“I know,” Camila said. “But I want this to be her choice. If
death is what she wants, she can have it. Just not tonight.” She let
out a deep breath, then let go of my hand. “Red, I don’t want you to
see this, but I’m not going to make you leave.” She kissed me softly
but quickly on my mouth.
I grabbed Camila’s hand. “Wait. Please don’t do this. Don’t
change her.”
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“Red, I—”
“I know you don’t want her to die, but she doesn’t want this.
What about her family?”
Camila closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. When her
gaze met mine again, I knew she’d made up her mind. “I wish I
could explain it to you. She’s mine. I can’t let her suffer in pain
any longer. She’ll be upset for a while, but in the end she will have
wanted me to help her.” She kissed me once more, letting me know
her decision was final. “You and Andrew go stand in the corner.”
Andrew gently grabbed my other hand and pulled me out of the
way. Silently, I prayed Camila was right.
Camila quickly started giving orders and the sister-queens
followed them without hesitation. I watched as Omi and Tokyo
rummaged up a scalpel and some surgical scissors and began cutting
away Cleo’s bandages. Faeth silenced the monitors and started
unhooking Cleo from the wires and tubes. I wanted to look away as
every inch and section of Cleo’s destroyed body was revealed. My
stomach flipped, twisted at the medicated smell of her burns. The
bile rose in the back of my throat, but I couldn’t look anywhere else
but the bed.
The sister-queens kept cutting, splaying the bandages open
around her. I swallowed a whimpering shriek when they reached her
head. The left side of her upper lip and her cheek were completely
gone. And so was her beautiful hair. Andrew’s arm wrapped around
my shoulder, and a moment later, I realized we were supporting
each other.
Camila pulled off her jacket and threw it in the chair. “Natasha
and Faeth, take her neck.” As she spoke she held out her hand.
Tokyo handed her a scalpel. “Omi, her right arm. Tokyo, Kina, take
her legs.” The sister-queens took their positions around the hospital
bed. There was a brief moment of silent communication between
the six of them and then at once, the five in their assigned positions
struck, their fangs piercing Cleo’s ravaged skin.
Not even a minute passed. They drank deeply, draining Cleo
from arteries in her throat, her arm, and her thighs. Cleo’s charred
skin seemed to be pulsing as they sucked the life out of her. Out of
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the corner of my eye, I saw what Camila was getting ready to do.
The point of a blade was pressed against her wrist.
Faeth lifted her head, making no move to be discreet as she
wiped bits of loose, burnt flesh from her lips. “Now. She’s empty.”
“Just hold on for me,” Camila said, not to Cleo, but to me.
The moment she slit her wrist, I threw up. Moreland must have
sensed that I was about to heave because she appeared in front of
me with a wastebasket the second the remains of my airline snacks
came back up. Andrew took the trashcan from her and held me up as
I continue
d to vomit. And then Camila had me.
“I’m fine, querida. Look.” Her healed wrist appeared in front
of my watering eyes. “I’m okay.”
I nodded and stopped shaking long enough to take a bottle of
water and a tissue from Moreland’s hand. Even if the woman was a
total creeper, she was handy in a clutch.
Camila gave me some space to do a little clean up while holding
on to a tiny shred of dignity. When I was presentable, she handed the
water back to Moreland, then Camila tucked me tightly to her chest.
I looked over her shoulder, shocked at the change that had taken
place in the few short moments where I’d been falling apart.
Cleo’s healed lips were latched on to Kina’s slashed wrist. Her
eyes were still closed, but her throat was working, rhythmically
swallowing every drop Kina gave her. When Kina stepped back
from the bed, Natasha’s wrist took her place.
And Cleo was healing, changing right before my eyes. It all
happened so quickly. The puckered and drawn skin regenerated
and smoothed itself out over Cleo’s arms and legs and breasts. Hair
sprouted from her head, longer and thicker than before, but just as
rich and curly. Omi was last at the head of the bed, and as Cleo
swallowed the final gulps, her now light brown eyes opened.
Omi took her wrist back and licked her wound closed. Foolishly,
I’d been expecting Cleo to awake a screaming zombie. I expected
her to come tearing across the room, mad with bloodlust, lunging
for Andrew. But she simply sat up, as if she’d woken from a long,
satisfying night’s sleep, and looked around the room.
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Her eyes fixated on Camila. She frowned for a moment, then
bowed her head.
“My Queen,” she said respectfully.
“How are you feeling?” Camila asked.
I almost smiled as Cleo’s expression snapped back to normal.
She scratched her head and tested the tips of her fangs with her
tongue. “Fine. It’s bright as hell in here.” We all laughed nervously
with relief. Cleo ignored us. “Did someone puke?”
“Yeah. Sorry about that,” I muttered my guilt.
“It’s all good.” The sister-queens made room for her as she slid
off the edge of the bed and stretched. “I’m hungry.”
Camila nodded to Moreland. Andrew quickly pulled off his
jacket and slipped it into the chair with Camila’s. He was bare-
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