by Bella Street
Her heart twisted at his words. “No one has hurt me as much as you have, Gareth. Congratulations, you get the gold star.”
“That's real funny. Especially since I'm the only one who's ever looked out for you. And now you're obsessed over some deadbeat—”
“I love Trent. I'm not obsessed. Get your facts straight.”
“Love.” He snorted.
“I understand it's hard for you to recognize when you don't know what it is.”
He took a step closer. “I know what it is because I laid it out for you year after year— obviously a pointless exercise in futility.”
She regarded him steadily, despising her next words, but saying them nonetheless. “Your problem is you stop when there's nothing in it for you.” His face flushed, but she continued. “You abandoned me when I needed you most, because I'd become...distasteful to you. And now that Trent needs me—as distasteful as it might be—I'll be there for him.”
He smiled slightly. “You 'love' a man who's acting like a monster.”
“You didn't love me when I was one, so I guess you wouldn't understand.”
He stepped away, his eyes flashing. “You're just angry because you hooked up with the wrong guy.”
“Shut up.”
“Or maybe you like the abuse. From Trent, those directors...that mayor.”
His words sliced her to the bone. “Maybe I do, because I'm here talking to you.”
He regarded her, stubborn and cold.
“Go away, Gareth.” She pushed past him, losing control of her temper.
He blocked her path. “No way. You know they'll kill him, and you know you'll need me when he's gone.”
White hot anger exploded behind her eyes. She lunged at him, pushing him against the wall, sobbing and pummeling him with all her strength.
Gareth stood still, absorbing her blows until she was exhausted. When she went limp, he put his arms around her and pulled her close.
Seffy resisted, tearing herself away. “Let go of me!”
He dropped his arms. “I won't hurt you like he will.”
“You already have!” she cried, breathing hard. She stood resolute, staring at him, tears streaming.
His returning gaze was implacable and she realized she hadn't gotten through.
Seffy pushed up her shirt sleeves to show him the damaged he'd done. “Stay away from me, because as you can see, I bruise easily.”
***
Gareth stared at Seffy's retreating form and felt like kicking the wall. God, how could she get everything so backward? He closed his eyes, wondering what in the world he could've said differently to convince her.
A step in the hall brought his head up. He looked down the hall toward their rooms and saw Addison. How much had she seen? He smoothed out his expression as she approached.
“Well, that was awkward.”
He raised his brows. She'd seen all of it, apparently. “Yep. She refuses to see reason.”
“Or you do.” Addison lifted her chin. “I mean, it could go either way, right?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, Addy. You know better than that.”
“Why don't you leave her alone? She doesn't want what you're selling anymore.”
Gareth laughed bitterly. “And what exactly am I selling?”
She crossed her arms, averting her eyes. “Never mind. How's Trent?”
He frowned at her, wondering when she'd become so critical. “Potentially hairy.”
Her head snapped around. “What?”
“Lani said he's a werewolf.” Gareth was unable to stop a smile. “Man, is this place getting psychedelic or what?”
Addison didn't take the time to answer. She went around him and headed after Seffy.
***
“Any changes?” Seffy asked as evenly as possible as she entered Trent's room. She hoped the nurse wouldn't notice the effects of fresh tears on her face.
Olga looked over the edge of her glasses from where she sat with a medical chart on a doctor's stool. “He's still sedated, which is helping keep the delirium at bay.”
“He's delirious?” she said as she sagged onto the chair next to the bed. Trent's face was pale, covered in stubble, and his hand limp and lifeless in hers, except for the heat pouring off his skin. She watched his face, noticing movement under his lids. If he wasn't so sedated, would he try to hurt her?
Even still, she felt less distress now than she did during her episode with Gareth. What was up with him? She sniffed away an errant tear, then looked up to find Olga regarding her.
“I think you'll feel better when you hear my news.”
“Unless you're gonna tell me Trent simply has a bad case of the flu, I doubt I'm interested.”
The nurse told the guard to give them a minute. When they were alone, she adjusted her half-moon glasses. “I've been working on this problem and I think I've found the right ratio of—”
“Olga, there's no way I'm going to allow you to inject my blood into Trent. That's called murder.”
Olga firmed her lips. “You really don't have any other option here.”
Seffy looked at Trent and noticed a thin sheen of perspiration layering his face. “We can just wait until the steroids or whatever wear off. Then he'll be manageable and we can deal with the virus.”
“I'm not sure it can wait.”
Seffy scrutinized the older woman's face, dread building within her. “What did you find out?”
The nurse took a deep breath. “I know you doubt my knowledge, but I understand blood chemistry, and Seffy, it's bad.”
“Just say it.”
“What he has, it could be fatal.”
“Does it have a name?”
“I'm not sure because it looks like there's been gene manipulation as well as mutation. It's not naturally-occurring—it's been created.”
Seffy bit her lip, refusing to get caught up in hysteria again. “How does someone here in this compound whip up virus cocktails?”
Her expression became shadowed. “You could ask that about any of the strange things that have happened here.”
“And it just couldn't be you, what with all your extra credit research.”
Olga's shoulders stiffened. “I'm trying to help, Seffy. I care about Trent, too. And Popov was ultimately responsible for the last viral outbreak.”
“He's dead. I should know, because I killed him myself. So, that leaves you.”
The nurse's knuckles glowed white where they gripped the clipboard. “I'm going to ignore that because I know you're under extreme duress. But understand this, we have a way to fight Trent's illness before it becomes irrevocable. Now that I've come up with a ratio, you're wasting time arguing.”
Seffy glared at the older woman, trying to decide if it was villainy or frustration that lit her pale blue eyes. “Regardless, I don't want my voodoo blood anywhere near Trent.” She looked longingly at the bed, and wanted to crawl next to her husband and hear his heartbeat under her ear, to feel his warmth along her body. Was that so much to ask? Then again, if he was delirious, he might get a little bitey.
“You got a visitor.”
Seffy looked up at the guard, who was followed by Addison. She couldn't stop her eyes widening in surprise. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Addy said, her expression cautious.
“You want her in here?” the guard said sharply.
Seffy nodded and got up to grab another chair.
“I can get it,” Addison said quietly, her attention ranging over Trent's inert form. Seffy watched the redhead attempt to contain her horror, but the contortions of her face said all too much.
“How is he?” she whispered.
Seffy glanced at Olga. “Not great.”
“Not great at all,” the nurse confirmed. “In fact, you'll not want to be in here when the sedative wears off.”
Addison stared. “So what Gareth said was true? Trent's a werewolf?”
Seffy experienced a stabbing pain over her right eye at the mention of Ga
reth's name, but tried to look nonchalant. “I'm not too sure I believe it.”
“You will,” Olga said in sepulchral tones.
Seffy was tempted to roll her eyes if not for the evil chill sliding down her spine.
“Is it okay if I sit with you for a while?”
Looks like I missed those flying pigs outside. “Sure.”
Addison pulled up a chair and clasped her hands in her lap. With her drawn face and downcast eyes, she looked the picture of misery.
“Is anything wrong?”
She raised her gaze, a faint mockery in her tone. “Is anything not?”
Seffy managed a tight smile. “Can't argue with that.”
Chapter Nineteen
Seffy spent the next several hours curled up in the chair, her hand in Trent's, fading in and out of sleep. She only moved for bathroom breaks, even then hating to leave Trent for a second. Addison stayed, but remained silent. Seffy found herself oddly thankful for her presence.
At some point Fenn had arrived. She heard whispered discussions between him and Olga, but she ignored them and pretended to sleep.
Her dreams were freakish and terror-inducing as usual, so she tried to keep her eyes open for long stretches, only to later wake up in a dazed panic, realizing she'd failed.
One dream was about another earthquake, but when she awoke, she realized Trent's hand was trembling in hers. Opening her bleary eyes, she stretched and looked around. Olga sat nodding off in the other chair, Addison was asleep, Fenn propped up a far wall, and the guard stood watching her with a baleful glare.
The clock said ten, but whether it was morning or evening, she didn't know.
Trent's hand began to shake again. Seffy gripped it harder, hoping to soothe him. His head lolled back and forth and a quiet moan escaped his lips. She heard the guard behind her straighten to attention. Seffy got out of the chair and looked down at her husband, her heart picking up speed in time with the monitor. The purple circles under Trent's eyes and sunken skin alarmed her. He was still hooked up to the I.V., so why did he look so dehydrated?
Seffy watched his restlessness and realized he must be having a bad dream. She wanted to press her lips against his cheek and comfort him. Instead, she linked her hand with his and tried desperately to remain calm.
Another moan sounded, causing Olga to stir and waken. She pulled herself up, and after adjusting her glasses, began a vitals check.
“Hmm.”
Seffy's eyes widened. “What?”
“His heart rate is elevated. Same with his blood pressure and temperature.” She consulted her watch, then glanced at the guard. “The moonrise is happening.”
Seffy didn't know how to respond.
Suddenly Trent gasped. He arched his head, then looked over at her. His bleak gaze tore at her soul before his eyes rolled back in his head.
“What's going on?” Seffy shrieked.
Addison jumped from her chair then backed up against a far wall.
Olga went to work, reassessing his condition while the guard called for backup. Anxiety made her nauseated. Her grip on Trent's hand increased when he started shaking again.
She watched in horror as the shaking turned to something like an epileptic fit. His face turned red, then purple, then blanched. The pulse monitor beeped impossibly fast, the yellow line etching jagged nonsensical lines on the screen.
“Do something!”
“You know what I have to do,” Olga said in an undertone. “You need to trust me on this.”
“Do something else!”
“Seffy, you have a decision to make. His heart might not be able to handle the strain.”
She shook her head. “No way. It'll kill him.”
“Seffy, this isn't just about you.”
She spun around at the sound of Fenn's voice. “Get out of here! This is none of your business!”
He stood tall and gaunt, his look steady. “I've ordered the guards to make sure Trent doesn't leave this room alive if he's in any altered state—mental or physical.”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you? We're like mice between your paws, getting batted around until you finally decide to kill us off.”
Trent began to keen, reaching the same decibel as the heart monitor. The sound sent chills rushing across Seffy's body. She turned to him, willing him to fight this. Why couldn't she have received some super power like Lani thought? Why did she have to stand here helpless while her husband suffered?
Panic surged within her. She took deep breaths to steady her nerves even as Trent's convulsions became more violent. The sound of several people entering the room and the cocking of rifles added to the tension.
“Seffy, if my theory is correct, you could save Trent from this needless suffering.”
“That's the bite, Olga. It's a theory.”
Trent arched against the restraints, the sound of creaking and straining leather, ominous. His convulsions morphed to thrashing. Veins stood out in sharp relief in his neck and forehead.
“Say a prayer, and make the choice.”
Pressing her hands to her mouth, Seffy watched her husband in rising horror. “I don't know how to pray.”
Sweat began to pour in rivers off his chest, muscles undulated under his skin. Suddenly an unearthly wail ripped from his throat, echoing off the walls, stunning everyone into silence.
She backed away and looked at Olga as dizziness assailed her.
The nurse held her gaze for a moment, then brought out a readied syringe full of a dark fluid. Seffy's knees buckled.
Arms came around her from behind. She knew it was Fenn, but didn't have the strength to resist.
Seffy clenched her teeth, shaking her head as Olga cautiously approached Trent. He suddenly bucked on the table, screaming until every hair stood up on her body. The exam table began lifting and crashing back onto the ground from the force of his convulsions.
The guards closed in, fingers twitching on the triggers.
The monitor sounded like it was shorting out.
“Seffy,” Olga said.
Seffy twisted away from Fenn and reached out to touch Trent's arm. At the contact, he snapped his head around and stared at her, his gaze savage.
Jerking her hand away, she glanced at the nurse, dry-eyed and terrified.
“Do it.”
Olga plunged the syringe into the I.V. shunt. Seffy's vision tunneled down onto that last act, then her vision grayed out. A buzzing sounded in her ears.
“Oh my God,” Addison whispered.
Her voice jostled Seffy's consciousness.
It was then she realized the buzz she heard was the heart monitor flat-lining.
Fenn held onto her arms, but Seffy yanked herself away, pushing past the guards to get to Trent. His head flopped to one side. His hands hung lifeless, bloodied abrasions and dark bruises staining his wrists.
The drone of the heart monitor deafened her in the tense silence.
Seffy refused to look at Olga. Instead she climbed onto the bed, straddled Trent's body, and began chest compressions. She inwardly counted to ten, then tipped back his head and blew air into his lungs.
She worked mindlessly, like a machine, ignoring the shouts and chaos around her, ignoring the acid burning in her muscles, ignoring the tears burning her eyes.
Suddenly hands were pulling at her. Seffy slapped them away, continuing to circulate blood from Trent's heart, and pushing borrowed air into his lungs.
She whispered his name over and over under her breath, watching his ashen face for any flicker of movement.
“Get her down.” Olga yelled, shrill.
“It's been too long.” Gareth.
Seffy wanted to rage at him, but couldn't spare the oxygen. She funneled her fury into her fists, pushing, pushing, pushing.
The girls were crying. Fenn was saying her name. Olga joined in.
An arm hooked around her waist and she was lifted bodily away. Seffy cried out and struggled, especially when she realized it was Gareth.
/> But his arms were like iron bands around her, and exhaustion drained the fight from her.
“They're still trying,” he hissed in her ear.
Seffy narrowed her eyes at the unexpected addition of two HazMat suited strangers working with Olga and Fenn, talking, passing things between them, going through the motions of a vitals check. Someone intubated Trent with brisk, rough movements. Next a mask was placed over his face and Fenn depressed a bag attached to the breathing tube.
“What are they doing to him?”
No one answered her.bA Haz-Mat man lifted a syringe and shot the contents into Trent's I.V.
She strained against Gareth, uttering a horrified cry.
The electronic drone ceased for a moment, then blipped. Seffy stared at the monitor, wondering if it was shutting down.
In her periphery, the people around Trent continued working on him, doing what, she had no clue. Another blip. She caught her breath. A third blip started her own heart pounding.
More mysterious medical activity. Lani appeared and hugged her, soon joined by Addison.
Seffy struggled to hear the monitor and hoped to God the steady beeps weren't her imagination.
After several minutes, she heard muffled phrases about normal sinus rhythm and good breath sounds.
Fenn approached them and the girls released her. “He's stable now, but still critical.”
Seffy's relief turned to white hot rage. “He was dead!”
He firmed his lips. “Yes, we lost the heartbeat for a few minutes, but—”
“A few minutes? I worked on him for at least twenty minutes while everyone stood around doing nothing!”
“Seffy, that's not true,” Gareth began.
“It was four minutes, officially, but even then you were doing chest compressions.”
Lani's wide eyes and Addison's expression told her what Fenn said was true.
“I know it seems liked a lifetime. That happens when you're scared.”
Seffy pulled away from the group, glaring at Fenn. “Don't talk to me about being scared.” She approached the side of the bed, holding her breath as she looked down at Trent.