Page 84 of Blood from the Marrow
Zuri tried not to put herself in Clara’s place. To imagine the terror of Elena or Marisol having gone out and never coming back. How that agony might be doubled if she was carrying a child. Goddamn it.
“How do you know he was killed?” Elena asked sensibly while Zuri was trying very hard not to cry. “He may have?—”
“I know,” she said with a certainty that meantplease don’t make me say. “I wish there was a way I could show you how hard it was, Marisol. That I only did it to protect you. That it was like tearing out my own heart.”
“There is,” Elena said. Her eyes were too soft and Zuri was too weak to resist.
Zuri looked at Marisol. “It’s up to you, babe. You don’t have to?—”
“Okay,” Marisol said with three decades of childhood hope shining in her eyes. “If you’re willing to do it?” She held Zuri in such an unsteady gaze.
Didn’t Marisol know that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for her? That she’d endure anything. Bear any weight if it helped Marisol heal what should be an unblemished heart. The enormity of her love burned at the back of Zuri’s throat.
Zuri stood so Clara could have her seat. “I swear to every god and angel and demon and spirit and entity that has ever existed.If you’re lying about a single word you’ve said”—she dried her eyes—“you will regret it.”
Clara didn’t so much as flinch when she sat down. Didn’t change her mind when Elena explained Zuri could go into her memories. That there would be nowhere to hide any half-truths or omissions.
“What do you need me to do?” Clara asked without an ounce of hesitation.
Zuri’s magic stirred deep in her belly but it didn’t come when called. She stood in front of Clara and took her hands. With a deep breath, Zuri acknowledged she was scared. That she desperately didn’t want Clara to be lying. That she didn’t want to have to break Marisol’s heart.
“Hold out your hands.” Zuri’s tattoo itched, her magic rising so slowly.
Clara rested her hands palm up in her lap.
Zuri took another long, slow breath and tried to block out Marisol’s eager energy. “Think about the day Marisol was born,” she said before sliding her hands over Clara’s. She wanted to see the woman’s heart on the day she abandoned her only child.
Clara nodded despite the pain that flashed in her eyes. The moment she conjured it, Zuri’s magic connected with Clara’s mind.
Rather than being pulled through a portal and dropped into Clara’s memory, Zuri closed her eyes and stepped cautiously into the darkness. The power of her new coven gave her unbelievable control. She walked down a lightless corridor. Odorless smoke thickened with every step she took until pale light streamed through in faint pockets.
The distant sound of beeping turned rhythmic as the hallway brightened. Ambient noise filtered through the smoke, disembodied conversations and clattering metal and more beeping. Pain like a snake started slithering around Zuri’s waist.The corridor turned institutional beige when fluorescent lights flickered to life above her.
Pain curved Zuri’s back, slowing her pace while she braced her midsection. Fuck. The scratchy material of her hospital gown scratched her forearm where she held herself.
“Ms. Blanco, wait,” a voice called behind Zuri.
Vision blurring, Zuri looked straight ahead and pretended not to hear her.
Blanco? From Clara’s memories, Zuri knew that the woman had given a false name at the hospital. She pushed on, pain intensifying. Zuri held the source of the pain and imagined a gaping wound where all her guts would spill out if she let go.
“You’re not supposed to be up yet,” a nurse said when she caught up with her.
“I need to see my baby,” Zuri replied in Clara’s voice. At the mention of a baby, she found renewed strength.
“Why didn’t you say so?” The nurse’s face was kind, but she didn’t spare her a second glance. “I’ll take you in a wheelchair. Moving is good, but you’re only three hours out of surgery. We don’t want to push too fast.” She paused. “Where is your catheter?”
For the first time, Zuri saw a memory within a memory. Saw Clara minutes earlier bracing herself against the handrail in the bathroom and pulling out the catheter. Her vision doubled again and she wanted more than anything to escape the agony packed into every part of Clara’s body. It was the tightness in her chest Zuri was desperate to let go of, but she needed to see. Needed to know. She pushed on.
The nurse faded into the background when Clara’s focus returned to her goal on the other end of the hall. A sharp pain stabbed straight up her abdomen and triggered a nearly unstoppable wave of nausea. Zuri tumbled to her side where she grabbed the wall to keep from falling.
“Here, honey. Sit. I’ll take you,” the same nurse said.
Clara didn’t remember her face, but she remembered the overwhelming urge to cry. She remembered the bone-deep desire to shake her physical limitation and run. Not away, but toward.
The squeak in the wheelchair was all Zuri could hear. The entire universe had narrowed to that high-pitched sound and the intense desire to throw up. She was fading. Doubting herself. Thinking about giving up. And then they stopped in front of a picture window. The nursery, Zuri knew even before she lifted her head.
“Let me get the nurse to let you in?—”
