BRIGHTON
These past few days have been a fevered nightmare that have taken so much from me—my blood; my steady consciousness; my time, which was already running out. The two practitioners, Dr. Swensen and Dr. Salinas, tell me all about how I’ve lost four days. Somehow even with the most sleep I’ve ever had, I’m groggy, like I might pass out again any minute, but they keep talking at me about how difficult it is to cleanse my blood.
My arm feels even stiffer than before. They must’ve failed to save me. I inspect myself, discovering that my arm is tightly wrapped in a soothing silk bandage. Dr. Salinas tells me that it’s made from basilisk cocoons. She goes over the list of antivenom serums she’s given me, as if I’m going to be familiar with any of these things. What I do know is that this medical bill is going to be unimaginably expensive. Though the chances of anyone in my family living long enough to have to worry about paying a single dollar is slim, hopefully the bill doesn’t follow Emil into his next life.
“Am I dying anytime soon?” I ask because I’m tired of them beating around the bush.
“The venom is still spreading, but we’ve managed to slow it down,” Dr. Salinas says.
“But the blood poisoning from before is another matter,” Dr. Swensen says.
Two hospitals, one verdict. I’m as good as dead.
“Where’s Emil?”
“You can see him soon,” Dr. Salinas says. “I want to give you a fresh wrap on your arm to avoid infection.”
“I want to see my brother now!”
They back off and leave to get Emil.
This brings me back to Dad’s funeral. Emil and Ma really went for it with their eulogies, but it felt impossible to remember the good after watching Dad die. Then one minute I was in the front row while Dad’s boss at the Lucille Barker Theater shared a few words and the next I was standing at the podium with Emil at my side. I couldn’t stop talking about what I miss already: Dad singing along to songs in Spanish that only Ma understood; asking him to quiz me on prep work so I could see him smile as I answered everything correctly; inviting me and Emil on grocery runs; how he never settled for one-word responses when asking about our day.
I was keeping it together while others delivered their eulogies, but I lost my mind when Dad’s doctor was behind the podium and expressing his regrets. During all that time in the hospital, Dr. Queen was always so appreciative of Emil’s kind nature and patience, but I was a nightmare to anyone, especially Dr. Queen, who stood in my way when I wanted to see Dad. At the funeral, I let him have it one last time, even though Emil and Prudencia begged me to calm down for Ma’s sake if no one else. But I didn’t stop until I chased Dr. Queen out of the funeral home, blaming him for putting Dad through that clinical trial that killed him sooner.
I decide what I do with my remaining time. No one else.
It’s not long before there’s a knock on the door and Emil comes in. He doesn’t say anything; he just hugs me, which is a surprise given how I treated him. But when he starts crying I spit out the question I’ve been terrified to ask since being awake.
“Ma’s dead, isn’t she?”
Emil backs away, wiping his tears as he sits beside me on the bed. “No. I mean I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you know? What has everyone been doing while I’ve been asleep?”
Apparently a lot has been going on, including a visit from Congresswoman Sunstar and Senator Lu, but what I don’t hear is action. “So what, the Blood Casters haven’t put out any message like when they wanted the urn back?”
“They traded last time because I took the urn, and Luna needed to kill the ghosts for her Crowned Dreamer deadline. But this time . . .”
“This time what? I took what Luna wanted? Fine, I’ll post a video and offer myself up.”
“No!” Emil is staring, but he can’t stop me. “We don’t even know if Ma is alive!”
“But if she is, this may be the only way to get her back. I’m dead anyway, Emil.”
He shakes his head. “You already drank the Reaper’s Blood, Bright. It’s a done deal, like when Luna was trying to trade me off to Kirk for Gravesend because I didn’t have any more value to her. You don’t serve any purpose to her alive. She made that clear when she sent Stanton to assassinate you.”
“Then maybe she’ll get a kick out of seeing me die before her.”
Emil looks so beat, like he’s been awake enough for the both of us. His curls are growing, dirt is building up under his fingernails, and he smells like unwashed armpits. I’m about to ask him how he hasn’t managed to take a shower during all this sitting around he’s been doing when he looks at my wrapped-up arm. “How are you feeling?”
“Fantastic.”
“Bright, you don’t have to lie to me. I really wish we could see some therapists because I’ve been struggling too and—”
“We all are,” I interrupt. “We’re losing the war.”
“Right, I know. I wasn’t trying to make it about myself. I think we all could benefit from some professional help. More than Eva’s services, which really wasn’t fair to her.”
“I got a list of things that’s unfair too.”
He looks at me like he’s expecting me to go on.
Emil gets up. “I’m going to grab Dr. Salinas so she can replace your bandage. Do me a solid and treat her a little better than you have me and Ma.”
I let him go. I’m not trying to fight everyone, but everything is getting worse and worse and I don’t know how to bury my frustration and my fury. There are a lot of powers I wish I had, but reading thoughts could be really helpful so I can know for sure whether or not Emil has dark, ugly thoughts like I do. I can’t be the only one.
He returns with Dr. Salinas, who asks me to relax as she unwraps the bandage. It stings, like a Band-Aid ripping off multiple scabs. I’m speechless when I see how different and monstrous my arm looks. Dark yellow scales are scattered everywhere from my fingers to my forearm and all the exposed skin is a deep green. It’s like I’m turning into a basilisk.
“Will it heal?” Emil asks.
“There’s a salve that can assist with the shedding,” Dr. Salinas says. “But it takes a few months to return to its former state.”
“But—” Emil stops himself. We all know I don’t have a few months.
“Maybe it’s time we start placing bets on how I’m going to die,” I say. “We’ve got some solid options. Venom reaching my heart. Blood poisoning. I’m personally putting my money on the Blood Casters coming back to finish the job.”
“Not funny,” Emil says. “We’re going to get you through this.”
Thinking about my future distorts reality. This is all too much for one person, it’s like one shot fired after the other. The poisonings, the death sentences. I feel like I’m blowing through the stages of grief. I’ve been living in denial and anger since the last night of the Crowned Dreamer. Depression is definitely creeping in because I don’t have powers, especially now, when I would love to use them most to track down Ma—and punish everyone who even looked at her wrong. But there’s no bargaining because there’s nothing else I can do to become a specter, and any other trial will only kill me sooner. Sitting around this hospital room and thinking about how I don’t want what little time is left to be spent here, I’ve reached acceptance.
“I don’t want to die here,” I say. “I want to go home or somewhere.”
Dad was never trying to die in the hospital either. He wanted to die peacefully with us at his side. One out of two isn’t the worst, but it’s not how I’m going to go out.
“Bright, we have prime security here,” Emil says.
“Fine, they’re going to protect me so I can die in peace here? The odds are stacked against me.”
“They might save your life! Come on, you always swear that just because something is unlikely doesn’t make it imposs—”
“SHUT UP!”
I tense up, thinking about all the different dreams I’ve had over the years. Graduating college as valedictorian. Becoming a talk show host. Breaking records with the number of followers I have. Getting the timing right with Prudencia. Saving the world with Emil as the Reys of Light.
Unlikely, but not impossible are the best odds for any dreamer. But I’m done dreaming.