TWENTY-FOUR
and the smell of medicine was strong. Nurses came and went down the hall, wheeling machines over the tile floor. No one knew what Anya was about to do, but she did, and that was enough to make her heart race.
Tristan also knew, which was probably why he hadn’t left her side since. “Are you sure you don’t need another IV before doing this?”
“I already had one,” Anya replied, standing next to his mother’s bed. Another bag wasn’t a bad idea, especially since her veins were still dark, but they were running out of time. “I’ll be fine. Go watch the door.”
Tristan lifted a taser in his hand as he backed away. “I’m on it.”
Anya sucked in a breath, then stretched out her hands over his mother’s chest. “Here we go…”
Tristan leaned his back against the door as Anya’s hands began glowing bright white. She closed her eyes and focused on the energy building inside of her. Tingles traveled from her chest to her arms and down to the tip of her fingers.
The heart monitor next to the bed came to life, beeping in quick rhythms.
Anya opened her eyes to find her hands glowing a deep shade of red. The veins on her arms had turned dark like charcoal again. Another surge of energy escaped from Anya’s hands and hit his mother’s chest like a defibrillator. Her body jolted as the shock rippled through her limp body. Anya’s arms began to tremble. They couldn’t fail. She channeled the last of her strength on Tristan’s mother. A powerful blast shot out of Anya’s hands and threw her across the room.
“Anya!” Tristan’s voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears, but his touch was strong as he grabbed her arms. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay,” she breathed. “I’m good.”
“Tristan?” His mother’s raspy voice came from behind them, and Tristan dug his fingers into Anya’s arm.
Anya forced her eyes to open. Even through her blurry vision she could tell all blood had drained from his face. She put her hand over his.
“Go…” she whispered.
When he didn’t move, she gave his hand a light squeeze. “Tristan.” She blinked until she could see his teary eyes. “Go.”
He gulped loudly, then rose to his feet. “Mom?”
“Sweetheart,” his mother replied, her voice shaky and weak. “Is it really you?”
“Yes.” He finally hurried to her side and cradled one of her hands. “It’s me. I’m right here.”
Anya couldn’t see them clearly, but it seemed like his mother was reaching up to touch his face.
“Oh, look at you,” she muttered, caressing his cheek. “You’ve grown so much.”
“Save your energy, Mom,” Tristan said. “We’re getting you out of here.”
Anya closed her eyes, struggling to even keep her head up. Suddenly, a buzzing sound of electricity followed by a loud thud forced Anya to open her eyes again.
Tristan was lying unconscious on the tile floor while his mother sat up on the gurney holding his taser.
“What did you—?” Anya gasped.
His mother’s eyes were the grayest of them all.