Darkest Before the Dawn (male/male)

Felix

At the top of the stairs, turmoil announced that I wouldn’t get another silent moment for quite some time.

A vampire was at Cade’s throat.

Mew’s hands were locked around Richard’s head. Both of them were soaked in blood, their clothes shredded.

Furniture had been destroyed.

Cadence was unresponsive.

I went for the vampire near Cade, throwing her to the ground. Without a second thought, I pulled her neck into the crook of my elbow and crossed my other arm over her face. She barely let out a sound when I twisted her neck, her body going limp in my arms.

A gasp from Mew hit my ears.

He was still on his knees by Richard, hands around the vampire’s jaw to pull at his head.

A curtain of blood was washing down Mew’s front from a line in his throat. It was a thin line that sliced diagonally down the skin.

“Mew!” I screamed, making for him.

Panicked eyes stared up at me, his mouth hanging agape. Blood trickled from his lips while he struggled to breathe.

I set Goldie onto CPR. I begged for Mew to stay awake.

The two humans Goldie ensnared in the study had made their way into the living room. I threw my phone at them and demanded they call 911.

I ripped the bottom of my shirt, pressing the fabric against Mew’s wound. Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them back.

There were longer spaces between Mew’s heartbeats. His eyes swirled around, meeting mine for a brief second.

Next to us, Richard was cackling. “He got a little too ahead of himself, didn’t he?” The glass slice was still in his hand.

“I’m going to kill you,” I hissed, vision blurry.

“It won’t bring him back.”

I screamed. Finishing the job for Mew, I tore off Richard’s head, blood spraying into my face as I chucked it as far as it would go. The decapitated body still squirmed, searching for the missing part.

“Felix!” Goldie gasped, continuing compressions. She was sobbing. “You need to collect yourself! Please. Apply pressure to his throat.”

“I know,” I whispered, falling back to my knees. I had treated open wounds in the SOE before.

It made this no easier. Treating the man I loved was what I had tried avoiding for months now.

The blood flow had slowed, though not from healing. My hands were painted in his blood. His heartbeat was barely audible.

I wouldn’t let myself cry. The sobs were there, barred in my chest. Goldie needed me to stay contained.

“Mew?” Cade’s voice joined the bloated silence. It was broken by her wailing, muffled by the bald human as he pulled him to her and hid her face.

When the house flooded with MMES agents, armed to the teeth in Kevlar and rifles, several stopped by to see the state Mew was in. His previous partner, Sharice, whispered a quick apology before heading upstairs.

Colin stood over us when the stretcher came in, the paramedic and EMT loading Mew’s body onto it. Goldie cast me a fleeting glance when she followed them out, holding up Cade’s limp form to escort her out of this horrid mansion.

“I’m sorry about Detective Palmer,” Colin said to me, hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t moved from the spot I settled in, a vermilion puddle spread out on the tile and soaking into my jeans.

“Don’t say that,” I choked out. My voice was a mile away. “He’s going to be fine. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

The councilor exhaled from his nose, giving me one last squeeze on the shoulder before towering over Richard’s body.

Someone finally came to help stand me up. It was the bald human who we had spoken to in the study. He led me to the couch, red speckled across it.

Around me, the process of justice began. Photos were taken of everything, including me. Stretchers were brought in for Richard and the man Cade had shot. Several humans and vampires were escorted downstairs, handcuffs locked around wrists.

This wasn’t where I was meant to be anymore. Even though my piece wasn’t technically done since I should have been helping clear evidence, I couldn’t stay here.

Outside, the ambulances had gone, leaving unmarked police cars and forensics vans.

Colin was listening to one of my agents. He caught my eye and nodded at me, a silent permission slip to leave. “Oakleaf ER,” he called to me.

It took me no time to cover that eight-mile trek. None of the nurses at their stations gave me much of a look when I tumbled into the ER waiting room, despite the thick layer of blood on my clothes and the rips in my shirt.

“Fee!” It was Goldie’s rough voice. She enveloped me into a hug, squeezing me with everything she had.

“Where’s Mew?” I said into her hair.

She pulled apart and gripped my biceps. The blood splatter on her face had been washed off. “Emergency surgery. Cade tried going with them, but she’s with a nurse to calm her down. She’s upset because we had to follow in her car with a police escort.”

“They wouldn’t let her ride in the ambulance?”

Goldie shook her head, her gaze on the tile. “They said they didn’t want her seeing him like that. I drove us here.” She hadn’t released my arms. “Come get coffee with me in the cafeteria?”

By the time we got back, Cadence was settled in the waiting area, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she saw me, her eyes glossy and red, she stood up. I was waiting for the tirade, the venom thrown at me for not having done enough to save her brother.

It’s what I would have done.

Instead, she embraced me, her face in my neck. It became damp from her tears.

We sat, her body curled against mine. Little involuntary twitches overcame her, resulting from the anxiety or the crying. Goldie sat beside us, her head on my shoulder, eyes downcast.

“This is a much nicer hospital than the one he was in the first time,” Cadence whispered. She sounded sick from her stuffed nose. “The staff is nicer, too. I didn’t get yelled at this time for wanting answers.”

“Did you call your parents?” Goldie asked.

Cadence shook her head. “They wouldn’t care. They didn’t last time, just scolded us for living here. Told Mew it was his fault.” Her fingers curled in my ripped shirt. “All he’s ever wanted to do was help people.”

I dragged my fingers through her hair, her shoulders tense from a silent onslaught of crying.

By one that morning, both girls had fallen asleep against me. My skin was itchy from the caked-on blood. I was thankful that my anxiety and sorrow were keeping the hunger at bay, Mew’s fragrance stuck clinging to his blood. When I thought too hard about it, my mouth watered, and my gums ached.

I kept letting myself think only of Mew, only the good things, only how he was before Richard got hold of him again.

The way his skin radiated warmth like he had a miniature sun inside of him, golden flesh crossed with pale scars from where wounds didn’t quite heal right.

Sunrise eyes that could scorch you with anger or cool you with one of his furtive glances of bashfulness.

A self-assuredness that was simultaneously frustrating and admirable. A quick wit. A dry humor. Emotions that could flare and burn and combust. Ones that could ease everything into a miniature oasis. Ones so scarce and rare that you could only hope one day that you’ve earned your way into the small chasm of adoration in his heart.

Cadence stirred, pulling the thin blanket closer to her. She blinked, searching the room to figure out where we were. Her body deflated when she remembered. “Thanks for letting me sleep,” she whispered, sitting up, elbows on her knees, her hands catching her face. “That sedative was still trying to run its course.” She sighed, eyes on the local news playing on the TV.

We sat in silence, me staying in the same spot to support Goldie’s head, Cade leaning forward. At one point, she put one of her hands on my knee, giving it a light squeeze.

“When we get back to work, you need to sign the paperwork that says you and Mew are dating,” she said softly. “He already signed his part.”

My heart warmed. “He did?”

She nodded. “The day we got back from Hell. He told me, ‘whatever bullshit papers need to be signed so I don’t get Felix in trouble, I want them all’. It’s only two documents, promising not to impede the work operations and keeping PDA at a minimum, but he signed them. We just need your signature now.” Her face angled back towards me. “If you two are caught being gross at work, you’ll both be suspended. And if you do anything nasty at my house, I’m kicking Mew off the lease.”

The smile was welcomed. “We’ll behave.”

It was 3:30 before the surgeon tracked us down, the mask pulled down from her face and a chart in her hand. I nudged Goldie awake.

“I was hoping to speak to Cadence Palmer. I’m Doctor Cancino, Bartholomew’s surgeon.”

Cadence lifted her hand. “You can talk in front of them,” she said, waving to me and Marigold.

Dr. Cancino sat in the chair nearest to Cadence and flipped Mew’s chart open. “We were able to stabilize him. He’s alive and resting, but it was pretty touch and go for a while there. We lost him once on the table, but…” Her eyebrows pinched. “Somehow he came back within about thirty seconds.”

Cadence took in a slow breath through her nose. “But he’s alive.”

Dr. Cancino nodded, flipping a page in the chart. “We obviously had to put a lot of blood back in him. The blood loss from the wound was a lot—” she glanced at mine and Goldie’s clothes “—but even beyond that, I’m not sure how he was even alive by the time he got to us. Thankfully, his carotid arteries are still intact or else we’d be having a completely different conversation. His larynx was cut, thankfully right above the vocal cords, but there will still likely be permanent voice damage.”

Cade was squeezing my hand so tightly, she could have broken it. “Like how?”

“He just won’t be able to raise his voice as loudly. His normal talking voice shouldn’t have too much damage.” She closed the folder and settled it in her lap. “Usually with CTIs, they’re straight across, staying in Zone 2. Larynx, blood vessels, muscles, things like that. Since his cut was diagonal, however, there was damage to the external jugular vein, which is what largely contributed to the blood loss. There was damage to the muscles in the throat. It’s been repaired as best as possible. He’s going to have a gnarly scar, and we’ll have to keep him here until he’s able to talk and the muscles have healed more.”

“How long is that, usually?”

Dr. Cancino made a face. “It can be several weeks. A month even. However, the nurse told me that you said you lived in Georgia, and that you have a private doctor, so once we keep him here for a few days to make sure he’s improving, we can transfer him to a hospital that’s more convenient for you.”

Cade nodded, closing her eyes with her exhale. “I’ll call his doctor tomorrow to fill him in on everything. Can we go see him?”

“Cadence, you can go in whenever due to being his sister, but only one other person at a time with you. Please remember that he’s hooked up to machines and monitors and everything else in between. He won’t be waking up for a few days.” When she stood, she placed her hand on Cadence’s shoulder. “He’s extremely fortunate. It could have been far worse for him if someone hadn’t been able to give emergency treatment.” Eyes on me and Goldie now, taking in our appearances. “I’ll send a nurse to come get you.”

Cadence was crying again, her mouth behind her hand, eyes still closed. “He’s alive,” she cried. “He’s okay. You two made sure he was okay.”

I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know how to respond when I only felt the guilt thickening in my chest like tar.

He wouldn’t have even been in that scenario if I hadn’t sent him upstairs without me, if I hadn’t sent him to check on Akiya and Evander.

He was alive, but it never should have been a question on if he would live or not.

When the nurse came to retrieve us, both girls glanced at me. “You have to leave soon,” Goldie said, tapping her watch. It was after four in the morning now. “You go with Cadence first.”

I shook my head and gave a hint of a smile, hoping it was enough for them to not think too hard about it. “You two go ahead. I wouldn’t feel right if I went in before his best friend.”

Goldie’s eyebrows curled upwards; her lips sucked into a thin line. “Are you sure? You won’t have as much time as me.”

I nodded and gave her a light push. “Go ahead. I’ll have my time to see him.”

They left with the nurse.

I left the hospital.

I was cowardly.

Because of me, he was laid up in that hospital bed, frail and drugged. The remorse was clawing its way up my throat and burrowing down into the pit of my stomach. It spread across my whole being, a clenched sensation that made my hands vibrate.

My lungs, unnecessary, still ached.

They hurt when I sucked in gulps of air, bawling in the middle of a wooded area. Tears burnt my eyes and raced into my opened mouth.

I punched the ground.

I was curled up, forehead on the dirt, soil going into my nose and mouth when I vacuumed in more air for all my sobbing.

My shoulders were still quaking when the tears subsided. A raw nerve had been touched and jabbed at.

Hollowness settled into a place where the guilt was before I let it all out.

Thinking that this was how Mew felt after a panic attack let the regret burn back through my body, a sharp stab in my stomach.

The same stab I felt when I boarded the ship to come to America.

And like that time in Europe, when I was faced with these overwhelming feelings, I ran.