Salem kept one eye on the door and another one on the overhead vents. Given the speech that Thorn had given on his earlier visit, she believed the chances of him popping in again were slim. The more likely scenario was that they would drop the gas without giving any prior notice.
She twirled the two pieces of fabric from her mother’s dress into balls, rolling them around between her thumb and forefinger as she waited, each second ticking by ever so slowly.
Raven lay on the cot, her breath shallow, her eyes glazed over as she kept her eye on the vents.
“Are you ready?” Salem asked. She almost posed the question again before noticing the very slightest of nods from her mother.
Without warning, the light above the door turned green while a hissing sound echoed around the cell from overhead.
“Do it,” Raven said.
Salem sucked in her breath and closed her eyes, feeling everything begin to slow down. Once she felt it go as slow as she could make it, she opened her eyes and pushed the pieces of fabric as far into her nose as they would go.
On the cot, Raven’s lips were pursed as she sucked in the air from within the cell. The wisps of gas formed little funnel clouds that drifted lazily down to her mouth and nose, disappearing as they got there.
Salem’s eyes watered and despite her best efforts, she could feel the gas beginning to do its thing. She slowed her breathing even further and fell to the floor as she returned the world to normal speed.
She felt as though she were on the brink of a deep sleep, the voices from outside the cell echoing and seeming to come from a great distance. She felt weak, but not completely out of it, which was exactly where she wanted to be.
Through narrowed eyes, she saw Drake standing with men in lab coats, all of them wearing gas masks.
“They are out. Cleanse the cell,” Drake called out in a voice that seemed impossibly deep and distorted.
The men moved around like shadow people seen during sleep paralysis, opening the door to the cell and loading Raven onto the gurney. For a moment, Salem felt as though she were floating, but she was still with it enough to know that she was being carried.
She willed her heat to remain slow and steady, her breathing shallow, as they wheeled her down the corridor to the operating room. It felt as though she were being pushed through water, and it became difficult to stay awake. Some gas had leeched into her system and was doing its best to put her under. She fought to stay as alert as possible, hopefully enough to do some damage.
***
Thorn sat up on the bed and watched as wheeled in the witch and his daughter. He was struck by how beautiful they both were and imagined what life might be like if they were a normal family unit. He was not a man prone to sentimentality, so he quickly cast the notion aside.
His thoughts turned to Drake and his resignation. Thorn knew that he should have the man killed, but what was the point? There were a hundred Drakes out there, ready to obey and kill for their share of the almighty. Graves had already accepted the position of head of security and would begin with the delivery of the Wenlutah. It was shaping up to be a very good day.
Thorn’s train of thought was broken by Bloom, who placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready, sir?” he asked, his voice muffled by a surgical mask.
Looking at the gurneys on either side of him, Thorn looked closely at the two women. “They are out?” he asked.
“Like a light, sir. We will continue to monitor their vital signs and administer anesthetic as needed.”
“What do you need from me?”
“Just lay back and relax,” Bloom said, lowering the bed to horizontal using a remote. “You are going to feel a little pressure on your arms. That’s just the needles being inserted. Can I offer you a light sedative?”
“Do I look like a child at his first dentist visit? No sedative, doc. I want to be awake for this.”
Closing his eyes, Thorn relaxed and listened to the sounds of his medical team at work. Try as he might, sleep came, and he drifted off.”
***
“Mother, can you hear me?”
Salem sent out the signal, but she knew it was weak, knew that Raven was not receiving. She could feel her strength ebbing away and for the first time since Thorn’s people arrived at her house, she felt real fear.
She could feel her heart rate begin to climb, and she fought to control it.
“Keep an eye on the young one. Hear rate is fluctuating,” Bloom said.
“Should I deliver the anesthetic?”
She heard people move around the gurney, checking the machines hooked to her arm. Slow, slow, slow.
“Looks like a blip. She’s out. Hold the anesthetic for now,” Bloom said.
Rolling her head slowly to the side, Salem opened her mouth and allowed a trail of drool to escape, trying to lend to the illusion that she was completely out for the count. She cracked her eyes open and took in as much as possible although it looked as though she were seeing her surroundings underwater.
A plastic tube led from her arm to a large glass container sitting above Thorn’s bed. A similar tube led from her mother’s arm while a pair of tubes were hooked up to Thorn.
“Are we ready?” she heard the doctor say.
“Whenever you are,” another voice responded.
“Then please begin.”
Salem felt a pinching sensation on her arm and then saw her blood begin to flow up the tube and into the glass container, mixing with that of her mother.
The mixed blood swirled inside the container, turning from red to a deathly shade of black. Salem felt the floor begin to vibrate as the doctor opened a valve that allowed the ichor to run free into the veins of Thorn, whose good eye shot open and began to turn black.
Salem breathed in and out slowly, turned her head to the other side of the bed, and focused on Drake.
“Let’s see what’s inside that head of yours.”