Page 45 of Eyes of the Grave

“Just hang on,” I said, dropping a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be right back, and then everything will be okay. I promise.”

I carefully propped him up against the wall, and then darted back out into the street. The knife was exactly where I left it, but by the time I returned to Jackson’s side, he’d slumped onto the ground.

I flipped the blade open and drew the knife across my left palm. “Hold on. Just hold on.”

I tucked the knife back into my jeans and thrust my bleeding palm into the sky. With my other hand, I grabbed Jackson’s wrist, and I spat the words,“Nos portare.”

My blood sparked with red light, and strings of blood burst out in whips of red energy wrapping around us both. One after the other until it coated our bodies in crimson bands, and the image of Tulane Medical’s front door formed in my mind’s eye.

A hot vacuum of power pulled me down on top of Jackson, pain roared along my spine and then in a flash it was gone. My arms shook as I lifted myself off his chest. The sign for Tulane Emergency burned in the distance. My spell had dropped us in the middle of the parking lot asphalt across the street from the entrance.

I needed to get someone’s attention, but I could feel my consciousness starting to slip. I took a deep breath and tilted my head to the sky. “Somebody help!”

I threw as much of my will into my voice as I could manage, and the expulsion zapped the last of my strength. Collapsing, I curled against Jackson’s side.

“Jack, I’m sorry,” I whimpered as black spots started filling my vision.

In the distance, feet thundered across the asphalt. I heard voices shouting, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. A hand pulled me over onto my back, and a flashlight hurt my eyes.

“Can you hear me?” someone asked from the other side of the glare. Their voice sounded distorted, like they were calling to me from underwater.

“Doc…doctor, Isaac Blackthorn,” I gasped. “He needs doctor Isaac Blackthorn.”

“We’re gonna get you help,” they said. “Just hang on.”

“No,” I whined. “Help him.”

The world went dark, and I felt myself sinking into an ice-cold pit. I reached for Jackson’s warmth, but my fingers found nothing. Was I dying? I could feel the shapeshifter’s poison still fading in my system, but everything else was fading too. Ice crawled over my skin and then pain exploded in my chest.

My eyes flew open and I found myself staring into the faces of a handful of nurses and doctors. Their voices sounded too loud. The lights were too sharp. I couldn’t catch my breath, and my heart pounded violently in my ears.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Do you know where you are?” someone asked.

My head whipped around to find the source of the voice. “Jackson. Where is Jackson?”

“You need to calm down, Miss. Just lay—”

“No!” I shouted, leaping from the bed. The IV ripped from my arm, and I hissed in pain. Blood welled between my fingers, and then it was gone as the magic in my body desperately sealed the wound. A nurse crossed my path to the door, and I grabbed her by the shirt collar. “Where is my husband?”

“I…I…I don’t know,” she stammered.

I shoved her out of the way and the doctor caught my wrist. “Ma’am, you need to lay down. You’re in the hospital. We need to check you out. You were unresponsive only a few seconds ago.”

“I don’t care. My husband has allergies. I need to be sure no one operates on him except Doctor Isaac Blackthorn,” I snapped, wrenching free from his grasp.

“Ma’am, really, we need to examine you,” the doctor insisted.

“I am fine,” I snarled into his face. “Now, tell me where my husband is.”

He pointed across the emergency room. “The man you came in with is over there. He’s in bad shape.”

I followed his finger, squinting through the crowd of people, and I spotted Jackson surrounded by a torrent of his own doctors and nurses. He was laid out on a gurney in the plexiglass cubicle directly opposite mine. His skin had turned a sickly shade of gray and yellow.

“I need a phone,” I said, smacking my hand against the doctor’s chest. “Give me your phone. I have to make a call.”

“What?”

“Give. Me. Your. Phone!” I demanded again.