He didn't know how many days passed before Owen returned, but from the beard on his jaw, it was at least a week since Eloise entered the hospital. The bear walked in alone and handed Benedict a bag laden with what smelled like cheeseburgers. "Eat something, man. If she wakes up now, she'll take one look at you and start running."
A clawing hunger ignited in his stomach at the smell of the grilled meat. He reluctantly gave up his place next to her bed so that Owen could begin checking her vitals. As he mowed into the third cheeseburger, juice running down his hand and arm, Owen glanced back at him. "I read up on gorgons a bit. Thought there might be something to help, some legend about waking up from the medusa's gaze."
Benedict sat forward, heart leaping into his throat. "And?"
"Nothing about unfreezing victims, from what I found." Owen picked up her arm, his fingers against the pulse spot of her bruised wrist, and looked at his watch to count. After a long moment, he shook his head and replaced her arm on the mattress. Then he looked at Benedict, arms folded over his chest. "But there's another myth. No idea if it will work, man. Apparently the blood from the medusa's left vein is poison, but the blood from the right vein is healing. I don't put stock in magical fixes, but it seems like the only way to resurrect a medusa might be hidden in her own blood. Maybe."
Benedict felt hope — real hope — stir in his chest for the first time since he saw her freeze that night so long ago. A chance. A real chance to wake her up.
Owen raised his hands to hold off Benedict's blazing eagerness. "If that doesn't work, there's one other option. I'll just say it now so you have the chance to mull it over. But I've gotta say, I don't think there's a real chance with that one. You could bite her, Benedict, and turn her. The healing properties of the shifter virus might save her, might push her through whatever this is. If Harrison recovered from it, maybe she could too. But then again, the hyena didn't."
He shrugged, tossing the dark hair out of his eyes. "Of course, Eloise seems like a strong-minded girl and I don't know if I'd want to be the guy who turned her into a shapeshifter without her permission. But that's me."
Benedict swallowed hard, the empty bag falling in tatters on the floor as he stared at her blank face. Would he change her in order to keep her? She might hate him forever if she woke up a lion, even more of a monster, and not by her choice. He shook his head and pushed to his feet, wiping his hands on the tail of his already ruined shirt. "The blood. Try the blood."
"Roger dodger," Owen said under his breath. He fussed with the tubes already in her, then held a small tray under a valve until rich crimson filled it.
"How much do you need?"
"I have no idea," the bear said. He gave Benedict a sideways look before cutting off the flow and redoing whatever he'd undone. "Do I look like I've used gorgon blood before? I'm guessing as much as you are, Benedict."
Benedict nodded and tried to speak through a dry mouth. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me until she's up and about." Owen frowned at her, the small tray in his hand, then shrugged and used his fingers to smear some across her forehead. "I guess start with external application and hope that works?"
Benedict paced along the far side of the room to give Owen room to work while his lion snarled and fretted over another man touching her. The bear wiped the blood over her eyes, along her cheeks, then lips, and spread some along her throat. He focused on the pulse points and then in lines across her clavicle. He looked at Benedict, said, "I'll put some over her heart, but just want to make sure you know I'm not going for her tits, okay?"
He nodded, though he chewed the inside of his cheek ragged to keep from killing the kid as he moved the sheet back from Eloise and spread blood around her ribs and heart, under and over her perfect breasts. Then he covered her back up and wiped his hands off, frowning down at the red-smeared figure in the bed.
Benedict trusted himself to approach, breathing through his nose to get the scent of her in his brain, and held loosely to her ankle. Needing to touch her, to feel her skin for any hint that it warmed. Any hint that she woke.
Owen gestured at Eloise. "Try to wake her up."
His throat didn't work at first; he had to swallow several times before he managed to speak. "Eloise, wake up. Please. Come back."
Nothing. Benedict took a deep breath and rearranged her hair on the pillow. Bent close so only she would hear and the damn bear would not. "Please, baby. Please wake up. I need you."
He thought her skin felt less waxy, warmer to the touch, and some color grew in her cheeks. But when he looked up, Owen's expression remained doubtful. Benedict closed his eyes. This had to work. It had to work. He leaned and pressed his lips against her, tasting her blood but not caring. She didn't kiss him back.
He sat heavily in his chair. It felt like someone just punched him in the heart. She didn't respond. There was no change to her temperature, no hint she was any different than when Owen suggested using the blood. He covered his face and prayed the bear would leave before Benedict lost his composure entirely.
Owen sighed. "I'll keep searching, Benedict. If there's more than one of her out there, someone must know something about how to fix this. Just — keep trying to wake her up. Bring her back. Give her a reason to hold on and come back."
He patted Benedict on the shoulder and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Benedict waited a few moments so the shifter's superior hearing wouldn't be able to pick up on it, then let the despair wash over him. She wasn't coming back.
He begged her. Told her how much he needed her. Promised her the world and more. And in the end he knew Harrison was right — hope was a dangerous thing.