The Gathering Darkness (33 page)

“Hey, how is he?” Christy grabbed his arm, making him stop.

“He’s still asleep. Has a concussion. He’ll be fine.” Evan’s voice was on the verge of sounding robotic. He pushed past Christy and continued down the hallway, without acknowledging me.

“Geez, he’s awfully casual about the whole thing,” Amy said.

“Brooke, you look faint again,” Christy said.

“Get me out of here,” I whispered through numb lips.

Amy and Christy each took one of my arms and walked me to the car. I’d forgotten how hot it was outside.

The drive back to Aunt Rachel’s was a blur. Amy and Christy talked continually above the rap music, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

“If you want to go back later or tomorrow, we’ll take you, okay?” Amy offered as I got out of the car.

“Thanks a lot, and if you hear anything please call me,” I said.

“Right. You call us too. Maybe he’ll be home in the morning,” Christy said on an up note.

M
y heart felt ripped from my body. I couldn’t sleep, so I lay awake in bed most of the night studying the grimoire, or at least willing myself to read the words. As hard as I tried though, I couldn’t read the ancient fairy Welsh.

After a few hours of sleep, I got up, had a shower, and waited curled into the corner of the porch swing for the rest of Deadwich to wake up. The morning was cool and cloudy—a far cry from yesterday, but fitting.

Amy arrived at Aunt Rachel’s around nine. I didn’t even have to call her.

She handed me a gym bag and sat down beside me on the porch swing. I looked at her confused.

“It’s Marcus’ stuff from the locker room at school. I thought you might want to take care of it for him, so I told Justin I’d get it to him.” She smiled half-heartedly.

“Oh. I’ll make sure he gets it,” I said, feeling as if I had a piece of him with me now.

“I came to take you to the hospital. He’s still there. I called Evan before I came over. His parents stayed all night. There’s no change.”

A cool numbness flooded my face. “I’ll go get ready. Do you want to come in?”

“No. I’ll wait here, thanks.”

It was highly likely that I would meet Marcus’ parents today, so I was conflicted with what to wear. Really, I didn’t care, but through the numbness, I knew I should look presentable—not that they would even notice me, but still.

I kept my jeans on and exchanged the band tee I was wearing for a more conservative top. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and left off the make-up. I shoved the grimoire inside my purse and grabbed a banana and a bottle of water from the kitchen before leaving.

“But my brother’s unconscious and my parents stayed all night. They’re expecting me to relieve them,” Amy fibbed expertly, with crocodile tears in her eyes, to the woman at the front desk.

“What did you say his name was honey?” The woman asked again in a more sympathetic tone.

If I hadn’t been so grief-stricken, I would have rolled my eyes at Amy’s expert performance.

“Marcus Knight.” Amy wiped away a tear as she’d said it.

“Oh,” the woman said after checking the computer.

Her grim smile knocked the breath out from me.

“What?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“He’s been moved to ICU. Second floor. Room 208.”

I let out a sharp breath.

“I’m afraid your friend will have to wait down here until visiting hours begin at eleven,” the receptionist said to Amy then looked at me apologetically.

“She’s my sister,” Amy said without hesitation.

“Oh, alright then. ICU is open to immediate family twenty-four hours a day.”

“Thanks,” Amy said. “C’mon, Brooke.”

As I approached the doorway of room 208, the muted sound of a heart monitor brought everything to reality. The soft voices within sounded full of concern. I listened from outside his door.

“Daniel is A positive, but I’m B negative. Can’t I give him blood?” his mother practically begged the doctor.

It was worse than I’d thought.

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Knight. The only blood an O negative person can receive is O negative.” The doctor paused and then said, “And because of its rarity, there’s a shortage of O negative blood in the hospital right now.”

Why did he need blood?

“Well there must be something you can do, for crying out loud. This
is
a hospital.” Marcus’ father sounded edgy. I couldn’t blame him.

Without another thought, I stepped away from Amy. With a shaking hand, I pushed on the door to Marcus’ room. It squeaked opened. Marcus’ parents, the nurse, and the doctor turned to see me standing in the doorway.

“I’m O negative,” I said softly. The heart monitor was slightly louder now that I was standing inside of the doorway, but not as loud as my heartbeat.

The anguish I was feeling was mirrored on Marcus’ parents’ faces. The doctor held out his hand for me to come into the room further. I took a couple steps toward the bed, noticing Marcus’ still body for the first time.

“Is this your daughter?” the doctor asked optimistic.

“No,” his mother said curiously. “You must be Brooke.” She managed a soft smile.

I nodded. Without further hesitation, she walked over to me and put her hand on my back, bringing me all the way in to their little family circle of grief.

“Marcus speaks about you quite often.”

Her words surprised me. “How is he? I was here yesterday, but—”

“You should have come in with us, but you’re here now.” She patted my back and gave me a fragile smile. “Daniel, this is Brooke. Brooke, this is Daniel and I’m Veronica.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Brooke. I wish it was under better circumstances,” Marcus’ dad said, before lowering his gaze to the speckled floor tile.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I said.

Then I remembered what had so boldly brought me in here. I looked at the doctor. “I’m O negative. I can give him blood.” In any other circumstance, the thought would have repulsed me, but Marcus lying still, under the pale-blue hospital sheets, terrified me more.

“How old are you, Brooke?” the doctor asked.

“I’ll be seventeen in a few weeks, and I weigh one hundred and twelve pounds. I read the chart in the emergency waiting room yesterday,” I said, explaining how I knew what the guidelines were for giving blood.

“That still makes you sixteen,” the doctor said.

My face fell.

“However, with a parent’s consent, you can still donate.”

“How much does he need? You can take as much as you want.”

His mom gave me a gentle squeeze. In fact, she hadn’t let go of me since she’d found out who I was.

“That’s very generous of you, Brooke, but I’m afraid, you can only give one pint,” the doctor said.

“Oh. Why does he need blood, anyway?”

The doctor explained to me as if I were the mother. “Marcus has become anemic overnight. We can’t find anything really wrong with him, except for the minor head trauma he’s suffered.”

“Head trauma?” I repeated.

“He has a mild concussion. His motor responses are good and he should be awake by now, but he seems to have slipped into a coma for no apparent reason, and now he’s become anemic. A blood transfusion will help him immensely.”

I looked at Marcus’ mom and said, “I’ll go and call my mom.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Absolutely.”

Amy was in the hallway waiting for me. “Wow. You’re really going to let them take all that blood from you?”

“Of course. He would do it for me.”

I grabbed my cell phone and dialed home. “Hi Mom, I need you to come to the Salem Medical Center—”

“Brooke, are you alright?”

Her sharp tone prickled the inside of my ear.

“Yes. I’m fine, just listen … .”

I went on to explain the dire situation to her. At first, she was apprehensive about letting me give blood, but when the desperation in my voice sunk through to her, she promised to come immediately.

When I went back into Marcus’ room, his mom asked if I would mind if she and his dad went downstairs for coffee. I think it was their subtle way of giving me some alone-time with their son. When they left, so did the nurse. The doctor had already gone.

Careful not to disturb the tubing and wires that protruded from under the sheets everywhere, I sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Precious life was slipping away in front me, and my heart ached beyond anything imaginable.

An oxygen tube had been placed below Marcus’ nose. An IV dripped clear liquid into a vein in one arm.

I looked at the blood-stained bandage taped to his forehead and swallowed hard to fight against the tears. His arms lay outside the sheets. I pushed the sleeve on his left arm up, exposing the double spiral tattoo and bent close enough to lay the warm amulet against the ink.

At the same time as a shimmer of energy passed into me, under the tattoo, Marcus’ biceps twitched ever-so-slightly.

“Do you feel that?” I whispered. “I’m going to make you better. I’m giving you my blood.” The last word squeaked out. “I know you’d give me yours.” Tears spilled down my cheeks, splashing onto his arm. All the while, my eyes stayed fixed to the tattoo, in anticipation of another twitch. None came.

After a few minutes, I pulled my tear-streaked face back to look at his. Instead of tanned, his skin had picked up a dull gray tone. Gently, I caressed the sides of his face, brushing the tips of my fingers over the one eyebrow that wasn’t covered by the bloodied bandage. His skin felt unnaturally hot. I lowered my face until it was mere inches from his.

“I love you. I’ll fix you, so you can fix me like you promised.”

I lowered my quivering lips to his pale ones. There was no response. I lingered there until the tears came again and then sat up.

I grabbed a couple of tissues from the box on the night stand and wiped my eyes. After that, I sat on the edge of the bed, numb, watching Marcus’ unresponsive face, praying for the slightest movement.

The constant beep of the heart monitor became comforting. It was his only way of communicating.

About an hour later, his and my parents entered the room together with Amy. Quickly, but gently, I picked up Marcus’ hand from my thigh where I held it, placed it back on the bed, and stood.

“Mom, Dad!” I was surprised to see them both.

“Baby,” Mom said, holding her arms out to me. She grabbed me in a desperate hug, which I eased myself out of. “Your father and I are both O negative. We’re going to donate, too.”

“Oh,” I said surprised. “Thanks.”

“Glad to help,” Dad said.

Marcus’ mom spoke then. “I met your parents downstairs. We had coffee before we came up. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not.”

Amy, who stood beside me, whispered in my ear, “I asked every appropriate looking couple if they were your parents as they came in the door.”

“Thanks.”

Overwhelmed by my parents’ generosity, I fought back a new wave of tears.