Dark Kiss Of The Reaper (22 page)

He handed her some cash. “No, I’ll take them with me.”

She gave him his change. “There are little cards right down in front of the register if you’d like to add a note.” She pointed with one glittery, black fingernail.

After a moment he selected one, jotted a brief message, then slipped it into an envelope and handed it to the girl.

She secured it into a little plastic holder and stuck it amid the roses. “All set. You must be going to see someone special.”

“Yes,” he said. His gut knotted. “My wife.”

“That’s cool. Did she have a baby? We just got these really cute balloons in with baby booties on them and pink—”

“No.” The knot pulled tighter. “She has cancer.”

“Oh.” Her kohl-rimmed eyes widened. “I’m totally sorry.”

Ignoring her, he took the roses, made his way into the elevator and up to Sara’s floor. How fitting they should say goodbye in the same place they met. His footsteps rang hollow in the quiet hall. Visiting hours would be over soon. The glass vial shifted in his pocket.

He paused at the door to Sara’s room. A ravenous ache gnawed his heart raw, shredding the edges into a bloody pulp. He imagined if he had a soul, the pain of what he was about to do would rend it in two. He closed his eyes, inhaled the sour hospital air and opened the door.

The bed made her look small and fragile. The tubes running out of her didn’t help. Passing the other empty bed, he went to her side, each step hot coals and broken glass. The window ledge held a potted plant and a pink rabbit holding balloons. It was good to know there were others to care for her when he was gone. He added the roses to the collection and returned to her.

“Sara,” he whispered her name, half hoping she would stay asleep and he’d be unable to give her the potion. “It’s me, Sara. I’m here.”

Her lids fluttered open. Bruised shadows hung beneath her glassy eyes.

“Hi,” she whispered back. Her hand went to her throat. “So dry.”

He hurried to pour water into the plastic cup provided, sloshing some onto the bedside tray. “Sorry.”

She smiled weakly. “S’okay.”

He helped her sit, supporting her with an arm behind her back. She felt thin beneath the hospital gown. He kissed her head. Cursed the cancer. Himself.

She sipped then nodded she was done. “Thanks.

He eased her back into the bed. “I’m so sorry...” He griped the bed rail, unable to finish.

She patted his hand. “Az, these things happen.”

“Not in this case.” He hated himself.

Her face scrunched in a sweet, uncertain expression. “What’s that mean?”

“You have... The reason...” He smacked the bed rail and spun away, the dull thunk ringing over the whirr of machines. “I’m the reason you have cancer.”

“That’s silly. You can’t catch cancer.” Her hand tugged at his elbow.

He turned back to face her. “You have cancer because of who I am. Because of being around me.”

Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Confusion spun through her beautiful eyes.

Leaning over her, he bent down to kiss her forehead, then thought better of it. He’d done enough damage. He stood up, tried to smile for her sake. “Because I am Death, you have begun to die.”

She started to shake her head.

“It’s true. I’m responsible. But I have this.” He fished the wretched glass vial from his pocket. “This...” He tossed the container into the air, catching it with a lightness he didn’t feel. “Will make things better.”

What else could he tell her? The truth? She would fight it. He knew that much about the woman he’d married. She would never willingly give up being his. His love for her expanded with that thought and his jaw quivered. He ground his teeth together and blinked back the heat building in his eyes. No matter that he was losing the only love he’d ever known. He had to stay strong. For her.

“What is it?”

“Magic.” He forced a smile. “To make all your troubles go away.” Not a lie.

A lopsided grin lifted one corner of her mouth. “And then I’ll be the queen again?”

He swallowed, tried to fight back the guilt buffeting his heart. “You’ll always be a queen to me.”

He started to thumb the cork off, then stopped. Cancer be damned, he needed to kiss her one last time. He bent and found her mouth. Tenderly, he kissed her and hoped the memory would last an eternity.

Her hand came up to catch his neck. “I love you, Az. And no matter what happens, I don’t regret any of this. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Her words almost broke him. He bent his head into her chest, felt her kiss the top of his head. Picturing Atropos, he used his anger as a focus. Sara deserved a chance at life.

Purpose renewed, he stood, uncorked the vial and handed it to Sara.

“Here goes nothing.” She tipped it to her lips and drank. Grimacing, she handed the empty vial back. “It must be magic, it tastes horrible.”

He dropped the container into his pocket.

“I feel funny...” Her lids shuttered, her head lolled to one side.

Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckle to distract her as he slid her wedding rings off. He pocketed the rings. The soft clink of them against the glass vial jabbed more pain into his heart.

Her lashes fanned over her pale cheeks and her breathing evened out. He slipped his hands behind her neck, found the clasp of the necklace he’d given her on their first date.

“What...are you...” Her head rolled to the other side. “Az...love you.”

He unhooked the necklace and squeezed it in his palm, trying to hold onto the heat left in the metal. “I love you, too, Sara. I always will.”

Her eyes closed. It was time for him to leave. The pendant went cold in his hand, but the chill was nothing compared to the ice gripping his heart.

Chapter Twenty

A gentle hand shook Sara awake. Manda’s kind brown eyes smiled down at her. “Sorry to wake you, baby girl, but I’ve got to take your temperature.”

“Huh?” Sara scrubbed a limp hand over her face. “What?”

“I need to take your temp.” Manda slipped the thermometer into Sara’s mouth. “Here we go.”

“Hmmkay.” The pain in her head was the lightest it had been for a long while, but a thick fuzziness had taken its place. She blinked. Tasted the plastic wrapper on the thermometer with her sandpaper tongue.

Manda bustled around the room, doing whatever it was she did. The thermometer beeped. She took it from Sara and read the result. “Slight temp, but that’s normal. You’re doing great. Can I get you anything?”

“Water.” Her hand went to her throat. For a brief moment, her bare neck felt odd. Like there should have been something there. She ignored the sensation. She didn’t wear a necklace. Never had.

Manda poured water into a glass, found a straw and helped Sara up. “Here you go.”

Sara drank deeply. Water had never tasted so good. “Thanks. That’s better.” She licked her lips, running her tongue over the chapped skin.

“How’s your pain? Don’t be brave. If you hurt, hit the button.” Manda pressed the controller for the pain meds into her hand.

“I’m okay.” Ignoring the controller, she stared at the IV in the back of her hand. She groaned softly. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. Like my life isn’t crappy enough.”

“Honey, cancer doesn’t care who you are or what your life is like. It goes after everyone equally. Now it’s your job to fight this thing.”

“Yeah, I know.” She exhaled a long slow sigh. “Have I been out a long time? I feel completely out of it.”

“Considering all the meds in your system, that’s understandable.” Manda wrote a few things in Sara’s chart. “Sorry I can’t bring you dinner, but you’ve got surgery first thing tomorrow and you know the drill.”

“Yeah.” Sara stared at the ceiling. Unwelcome tears blurred her vision.

Manda squeezed her hand. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart, but we’re all here for you. You’re going be fine, you’ll see. You’re young and strong and this is not going to get the best of you. You survived being married to Ray, didn’t you?”

She sniffed and laughed, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks. “Thanks. I’m really glad I have you guys to look after me.”
Married.
Wasn’t there something else she ought to know about that? The fog didn’t clear in time to make sense of the brief flicker of thought.

“It’s going to be all right, you’ll see.” Manda patted her hand. “Try to sleep, okay?”

“I don’t think I can.” The dangers of surgery spun through the clouds in her mind. Complications and risks were very possible. She knew that well enough from working on this floor.

Manda picked up the remote and turned on the television. “Maybe there’s a movie on. Something to take your mind off things.”

Like the nagging feeling that she was supposed to remember something and couldn’t.

Dane came in carrying a stuffed bear with a red and white polka dot bow around its neck. “How you doing, kid?” He wiggled the bear’s paw in a wave. “Just a little something to cheer you up. Guess I’ll put it with the others.”

“No, wait.” She reached out for the stuffed animal, oddly desperate for something to fill her hands. “He’s cute. I want to hold him.” Dane handed her the bear and she hugged it close. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He hitched his thumb toward the line of plants, flowers and stuffed animals on the window ledge. “This place’ll be a florist shop in no time.”

She tried to think who might have sent her those things, but her mind came up blank. “Could you read some of those cards to me? I can’t remember who sent what.”

“Sure.” He picked up the stuffed bunny. “This is from the crew at Grounded. They say get well soon, coffee sales are way down.”

She smiled. “Keysha definitely wrote that.”

He moved on the basket of assorted potted plants. “This one’s from your brother and mother, but there’s not much on the card besides get well and we love you.”

“How do they know I’m in here?” She glanced at Manda.

“One of them must be listed as your next of kin. I’m sure registration called,” Manda said.

Dane continued to a colorful mixed bouquet. “This one is from all of us on the floor. We all signed the card.”

“Except Charlene,” Manda said. “She’s been out with the flu for two days.”

Beside the mixed bouquet was a huge arrangement of roses. Dane twisted the vase to reach the card. “This one’s not open yet. Want me to leave it?”

“No, open it. They’re probably from Ray trying to make himself look good.” She snorted. “Like I don’t know he’s already thinking if I die, he doesn’t have to pay alimony anymore.”

Face stern, Manda lightly smacked her leg. “Don’t even say things like that.”

Sara laughed. “You know it’s true.”

Dane ripped the envelope open and pulled out the small florist card. He scanned it, then looked up with an odd glint in his eyes. He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think this is from Ray.”

“Why not?” Sara asked.

“‘Cause I doubt Ray would write this.” He handed her the card.

A line of small, artsy hearts bordered the card and an easy, loping gait defined a handwriting that looked vaguely familiar. She read the message. Dane was right, the words wouldn’t have come from Ray.

Manda nudged her. “What’s it say?”

She looked up.
“You’ll always have my heart.”

Manda laughed. “Yeah, if Ray sent them, it’d probably say you’ll always have my wallet.”

Dean chuckled along with her. “Sounds like you have a secret admirer.”

“Or a weird stalker who picks on cancer patients.” Sara turned the card over but there was no signature. “Let me see the envelope?”

Dane handed it over. Blank except for the florist’s shop name and address. She pointed it at the roses. “At least we know they came from the shop here.”

Manda checked her watch. “They’re open another hour. You want to have Dane call down, see if he can find out who sent them?”

“Why me?” Dane asked. “I have work to do too, you know.”

“You’re off in forty-five minutes.” Manda stuck her ample chest out and crossed her arms beneath it. “Plus I’m the boss and everybody knows you could charm the habit off a nun.”

He grinned. “Can’t argue that.”

Manda looked at Sara. “So what do you think?”

She drew her shoulders up. “Yeah, I guess. Might as well.” She smiled despite the feeling of certainty that Dane wouldn’t find anything. The smile suddenly faded. “You know, they were probably delivered to me by mistake.”

“I doubt that,” Manda said. “Those meds are just playing with your head. You’ll figure out who sent them soon enough. Probably some hot guy you’ve been keeping a secret.” She winked.

Sara sighed. Her memory loss was most likely a combined side effect of the tumor and the meds, but that didn’t make the blanks in her memory any less disturbing. Nor did it explain the overwhelming sense of melancholy that reminded her of one other particular emotion. One very similar to what she’d gone through during the divorce.