Page 48 of Icy Heart, Empty Chest
Something’s wrong. His color looks off today. I went to his side and put a tentative hand on his forehead. It came back sweaty and hot. Oh no. Filla said that fevers could happen and to treat them.
I rushed to the freezer and pulled out some ice packs, wrapping them in towels. The largest went around his head and neck, the rest to his arms and groin.
I pulled a blanket off him to expose him to the air.
The shivering ensued as I knew it would.
Medications are out; I can’t give him anything by mouth.
I’ll just keep swapping out the ice packs as needed.
My apartment isn’t big. I have a kitchen area, a living room area, a bedroom and a bathroom. I just don’t want to leave the living room. I don’t want to leave him alone.
It’s 9am and I tap my phone back to life, scrolling through my contacts till I find Jace. Jace is an older faerie guy, mostly dealing with pharmaceuticals but also the occasional odd magical object.
I type in a quick note.
Hey, I have query for you.
Sure, what do you need?
Do you have a crystal?
Oof. I’m down to my last one but it does not come cheap, kiddo.
Money or collateral?
Jace sent over the price.I whistled. He was right. It wasn’t going to come cheap. Gods only know what Filla was going to charge me for my drop in. I was hemorrhaging funds at this point. So much for careful savings.
I turned, staring at my bathroom. Maybe, just maybe I could leverage a painting.
I sent a picture of the painting above the easy chair. It was always a favorite of my father’s. Three feet square in a gilt frame. It depicted two angelic beings locked in combat. One had darker, dragon-like wings, and scales across the chest in flame red, charcoal, light silver and grey. Armor covered his chest and forearms with a discarded helmet in the background. Long silver hair interwoven with black strands flowed down to the waist. He held a sword in both hands, stabbing it towards the second creature with obvious rancor. My father always said that this one was a shapeshifter or wyvern. The second was slimmer buttaller with more birdlike wings, feathers being lost during the fight floating around the battleground around them. This being, possibly an angel, was holding two swords crossed in front of him. His armor was shades of ice blues, grey and white, with black hair. My father had always appreciated the duality of it. There were legends that went with this one, part of the Ancient Fae Wars from long ago. Names had been lost to myth. He had restored it and purchased it for us at a great price. The name of it was “There is No Victor.”
I just hoped Jace liked art enough to make the trade.
I sent over my offering, waiting for my phone to buzz back with an answer.
Not enough, kiddo.
I rolled my eyes and sent over an additional cash component to which he gladly accepted.
Will drop off at 6 once I get out of the store.
I looked over nervously at Damien.
No chance of earlier?
He sent a thumbs down sign.I can’t leave. I can do pick up or drop off at 6.
I swore violently, hating both of those options.I’ll take the 6 pm. I’m house confined right now.
He sent back a thumbs up sign.
Great. Eight hours and fifty minutes to go.
Might as well roll him. I knelt in front of the couch where he was lying flat, extending his left arm up, and rolled him toward me so that I could pad underneath him, leaning him to the side. I’d read enough about bed sores yesterday to horrify me, so he got moved every so often by a timer on my phone. All the while the steady breathing didn’t so much as hitch. Every time I moved him, I stopped for a minute in my misery to savor the feel of his warm body against me, desperation hoping that he wakes up.
I hadn’t prayed to anyone in a long time. I’m not sure I ever really believed in it. But when you’re desperate, it’s what you do. I’d volunteer in the community, give back some art to the museum. I’d stop all illegal activity, just please, gods, bring him back to me.
