by Emma Cole
“Do you mind? I’m grateful for the ride, but anything further isn’t necessary.” Why are they still here?
“Please, we’d like to make sure Cora is okay and to offer any support we can.” His eyes are tight at the corners, and I again feel like there’s more to it than that.
Not wanting to waste the time arguing, I spit out, “Fine” and keep going. It’s only minutes to get to the waiting area, and I find an employee at the desk to inquire further about Cora.
“I’ve already sent word to the operating room for an update. Please have a seat, and someone should be out shortly,” the man says.
“Thank you.” I move the seating area and find a chair close to the door I imagine someone will come out of when there's news, dropping my bag and Cora’s oversized purse onto the one next to it. The guys follow me in but move to take seats on the far side of the waiting area.
My head thumps back against the wall, and as I'm closing my eyes to settle in for a long night, an envelope sticking out of Cora's purse snags my attention. The corner of it has the courthouse stamp on it, and I pull it out to find a copy of our marriage certificate. Bowing my head, I wipe at a stray tear that escapes before it can fall on the printed paper. There’s already a smudge from my fingers, and I carefully fold it back up before tucking it into the envelope and redepositing it in Cora’s purse.
***
I’m not sure how long I wait until the door opens and a green scrub-wearing individual comes out, but it feels like an eternity.
“Family of Cordelia Malbec?” the woman questions the room.
“Shultz, it’s Cordelia Shultz. We were just married. I’m her husband,” I correct her.
The woman gives a short nod at the information. “Mr. Shultz, I’m one of the nurses on the surgery team— I'm not going to sugarcoat it; your wife is in critical condition. The collision caused internal injuries, and the placenta separated fully from her uterus. The fetus was stillborn by the time a cesarean was performed.” She pauses, letting me absorb the news as I feel the blood drain from my face. I’d already been sure she was gone at the accident site, but I'd held out a small bit of hope that I was wrong.
“It’s very likely that even with immediate delivery the result would have been the same. At this point the surgeon is trying to stop the bleeding from the tear. Several of her ribs were broken by the seat belt, and there is deep bruising around the entire torso. Her right leg is fractured, most likely from the vehicle buckling as I believe it was her door that was initially hit?” I nod yes, and the woman continues with her seemingly never-ending list of injuries. “One of her kidneys is badly bruised and swollen and will need to be monitored closely— right now we're hopeful it will heal. The most urgent issue is the bleeding from her uterus; at this time, the doctor has managed to slow it greatly, but if he can’t get it under control, he’ll have to perform a hysterectomy.” The woman stays stoic, but a hint of sympathy lurks in her gaze.
“No," I protest, "she wants kids. Not unless he has to.” The nurse holds up her hand to stall me.
“The surgeon is doing everything he can to avoid it, but she’s had two transfusions already. It’s putting her in further danger, and I want you to be prepared in case it happens. That’s all I have for you right now. I’d encourage you to get checked out just to be sure you didn’t suffer any injury either while you wait.” The woman who never even gave me her name disappears back behind the door. The beep as it electronically latches sounds dully in my ears while my brain tries to make sense of everything.
Before I can fully digest the broken condition of my wife, another nurse comes out. "Mr. Schultz?" She waits until I pick my gaze up from the floor to look and nod at her. "I'm Francine, and I'm going to be the one taking care of your little one now." She smiles kindly while the entire room freezes, and I feel the blood drain from my face. I can't do this. "Would you like to help? A lot of parents in this situation find it comforting to have some mementos. I know your wife isn't in a position to attend at the moment."
Of course, she had to say that. And I bet Cora would want them as well. Sucking it up, I follow the nurse through the doors.
By the time I'm done, I've signed more documents than I can remember what for and have had my heart pulled through my ribs. The somber faces that greet my return aren't any comfort, and I sink back down into my chair, ignoring the five in the room with me, to rest my head back against the wall.
I must doze off for a bit because someone is tapping me on the shoulder what seems only a moment later. It’s the same woman as before that updated me about Cora. And she doesn't waste any time wrecking what's left of my world.
This time her stoic manner is tinged with a grim finality. “Mr. Shultz, your wife’s condition has deteriorated. Her kidney swelling increased, and it ruptured. The blood loss was overwhelming, and between it and the uncontrollable bleeding in her uterus, both have been removed. She’ll be moved into recovery as soon as she’s stable enough to do so. She coded twice, and her blood pressure is still dangerously low. We're doing everything we can, but— I’m sorry, but her prognosis is very poor at this time. I’ll be back as soon as you’re able to see her.”
I’m too shattered to notice when she leaves. I drop my head into my hands, my loss streaming down my face in tears of pain and sorrow. In a single moment my family was ripped away from me on what should have been one of the happiest days of our lives. Ripped away by the assholes sitting in this room, watching my heartbreak unfold. Rage overtakes me, and it’s everything I can do not to tear into them; only not being able to see Cora stays my hand.
“Get. Out,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Kael, we can help—” Drake starts.
I cut him off. “No, you’ve done enough. I’m sure you heard what’s happened, and you could have prevented it. Now, leave.” I go to the bank of windows to stare out at the dark Seattle skyline. I’m debating calling Cora’s family or not even though I'm already feeling guilty enough for them knowing she was getting married today. I’d tried to get them to come; instead, they’d refused, and her step-brother had told Damien.
Her fighting for her life and our baby being gone is all my fault.
Drake tries again. “I can help her.” He says it fast, so much so that I don’t register what he means at first.
The incredulity shines bright in my tone when I blurt out, “How, how do you think you can help her? Can you fix her body? Bring back her baby? No. You can’t.” Idiot, money isn’t going to help this situation. One of the others is trying to pull him back, furiously arguing that he can’t do it. I’m not sure what they’re talking about, but they’re obviously not happy.
“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.
After it’s all done, and we’re once again waiting, it’s only a short time until a nurse comes out to direct me to Cora.
“Wait, I know only I can stay, but can they say a quick prayer for her? It would mean so much. Two minutes and they’ll leave.” She begins to waver, and I instantly lie. “They’re all the family she has, and after the baby… please.” I’m ashamed to use that card, but I'll do anything to save Cora.
“Fine. In and out. You have five minutes, and I’m being generous. Please keep it down. There are others recovering as well.”
We follow the nurse out into the hall past the nurses’ station and enter the Critical Care Unit. There are drawn curtains all around, and we stop about halfway down the room. Pulling back the curtain quietly, the nurse ushers us in and does a quick check of the vital readouts from the machines. “Five minutes,” she warns as she departs.
“Alight, hurry up. I want to spend what time I have left with my wife,” I whisper to the lot.
“You’re letting him do the full balance, Drake? Why, we could have--” The blonde one drops his protest at the look Drake shoots him.
“There’s no time. We’re tied together; one goes down, we all go down. This is spreading it better, and if there’s a chance, there’s a chance. Just leave it.” Drake is already moving to the bag of blood hanging near Cora’s bed.
She’s so pale and banged up. The bruising from the wreck is written up and down her arms, telling part of the story of her trauma. Even her baby bump is still prominent enough to make me take a second look and reach out to touch it. It’s still there, but it’s not hard like it had been. Tears begin tracking down my cheeks again at the loss. That one and the two she still has to suffer when she awakes.
“I’m done. When she wakes, it won’t be long.” Drake directs the others out and follows behind them, pulling the curtain shut and leaving
us in peace.
I spend a few minutes gaining my composure. I’m sure a sobbing spouse is commonplace here, but I don’t want to disturb anyone else that’s ill. Eventually, I lay my head gently on Cora’s chest, listening to the steady sound of her heart. We haven’t had as much time together as I’d hoped for, but this was a favorite way to lay with her when I had leave or she’d had a long enough break from school and the time off to come for a visit.
I remember meeting Cora at a high school buddy’s party right after boot camp. I’d had a few weeks of leave before I had to report back to Coronado, and there she’d been. Effervescent and gorgeous. I hadn’t known she was barely seventeen. I was only eighteen myself, having gone directly into the service out of high school. Not sure why I hadn’t met her before, I found out she was from the neighboring private school and was there that night with a friend. From the moment we laid eyes on each other, nothing else mattered. The entire world receded, becoming dim and drab in comparison. I’d taken her back to the apartment I was staying at until my official move, and that’s where we stayed the entire weekend.
That is until her step-brother tracked her down and dragged her out. That’s when I found out about Damien. They were no longer an item, but he didn’t seem to care, and neither did her parents. As far as they were concerned, he was her future. I reluctantly let her go, with her promise to call me.
I did talk to her a few times and tried to see her before I had to leave but never could meet up with her again. I tried to put her out of my mind after I got to California-- that was an exercise in futility. We began video chats, and she explained about Damien and all the drama about him and her family. She was still in highschool and had a part-time job at a local hardware store. We talked all the time, and as soon as I had my next three-day leave saved up, I flew to Washington again to see her.