Page 24 of A Heart Of Bitter Poison
A life as little more than a sick human, or suffering and a high probability of death for a chance at getting back who I used to be.
This is a real shits versus diarrhea situation, I sign.
Ediye gives a weak smile and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Maybe take a little time to think about it.”
I pull in a lungful of air that slips past the burn in my throat and seems to fuel the needling hum of pain in my head. I can feel the sweat sliding down my spine.
I look around the room, at Cole’s boyish face that hides so much sacrifice, to Eryx who was stripped from the Living Realm and still found a way to arrive at forgiveness and love. I look at Mr. Hassan, who pats my hand with fatherly affection like he knows it’s something I can’t remember from a childhood I’m not sure I ever had. My gaze lands on Ediye, my best friend, my ride-or-die. My soulmate. The woman who has had my back through the worst that life could hurtle at us.
If I take this chance, I might not just get back something I’ve lost. Maybe I can help make their sacrifice and suffering mean something. If I make it, maybe we really can find a way to keep the balance of the Realms. And that’s something worth fighting for.
No. I don’t need time.Let’s do it.
CHAPTER11
Okay, so I naively expected it might take some time to get shit together for this procedure. I’m not sure why I’d think that, considering Mr. Hassan is an apothecary. He has things like medical grade tubing and scalpels, disinfectant and of course a shitload of potions. Nitric acid and blood are both in plentiful supply. So… yeah… there’s not much time to second-guess my decision and jump out the window to freedom.
The old man sets me down in the corner of a bedroom where he prepares his trays of items and keeps an eye on me as I suck down more blood in one sitting than I’ve had in years. Cole enters the room and Mr. Hassan starts to ask him to donate, but doesn’t even finish the question before the demon is rolling up his sleeve for me. I take his offered wrist with a nod of gratitude before the bite. His blood is smoky and sweet, but not rich like Ashen’s. There’s no hum in my veins when his arm leaves my lips.
Thank you, I whisper as he gives a reassuring squeeze to my shoulder before turning to press a facecloth to the puncture.
Cole gives a gentle smile and steps back, his interest drawn to the apothecary’s work. “Don’t mention it.”
“Try mine,” Eryx beams with a helpful smile, holding his arm out as he walks forward into the room.
“Bad idea,” Cole says.
I shake my head, agreeing with Cole.
Ediye huffs. “Ye of little faith. Give it a shot.”
Cole and I grimace at one another as Eryx holds his cinnamon-scented skin beneath my nose.
“Try it, I want to know what I taste like,” he chimes. My fangs are still coated in venom and blood when I mouth an apology to Cole through a doubtful grin. He rolls his eyes, preparing to catch his boyfriend as I bite the offered arm.
I draw in a long pull of the angel’s blood. It’s as thick as honey and ten times as sweet. I glance up at Eryx’s hopeful smile and choke down a second swallow before letting go.
“Well?..”
I try to contain my expression but Ediye cackles and I lose the battle, scraping my tongue across my teeth like a dog eating peanut butter as I attempt to rid myself of the cloying flavor.
Too sweet,I sign, taking Cole’s offered arm once more to wash down the angel syrup with something more palatable. Fucking vile is what it was.
“Don’t worry, my love. You’re just too pure for such a deplorable creature,” Cole says to his boyfriend who looks genuinely disappointed, casting a wink down at me.
“Take some of mine next,” Ediye offers, but Mr. Hassan grunts from his table of supplies.
“Keep your life force,sahira. You’re going to need every ounce of strength. Besides, we are ready to begin.”
The old man’s solemn words suck the jovial atmosphere right out of the room. As if on cue, the sweat seems to double its efforts to increase my discomfort. It’s like a parasite that refuses to let go of its host.
I let Cole’s arm go and he pulls me up by my slimy palm, directing me to a narrow bed that’s been covered with fresh linens. I unbutton my shirt then lie down on the table.
We start with the gastrostomy, Ediye numbing the left side of my abdomen with a potion that smells like antiseptic and willow bark and other random, witchy shit like feldspar and burnt reptile skin as she chants a spell in a low and focused voice. She helps to guide Mr. Hassan with the incision and placement of the tube. His hands are steady and sure, and though I smell my own blood, all I feel is pressure. Eryx keeps me distracted with stories, Cole sets up blood bags on IV stands for gravity feeding. Each person has a role to play and when I really think about that it nearly overwhelms me.
After about forty-five minutes, the tube is set up and connected to the first bag of blood. My little medical team moves to the tracheostomy next. They approach the procedure with the same focus and precision as the last one. Having them work so close to my face feels ironically suffocating given their end goal, and the fear that coats my brain like a film is climbing through my body, shaking my fingers. Every moment is another step closer. And it doesn’t take many moments at all until I’m breathing through a tube.
When the work is done, Mr. Hassan steps back and gives me a firm nod and a pat on the hand before turning his back to prepare the first in a row of glass syringes filled with nitric acid.
