Page 6

It was Happening Again

T he moment River stepped back onto the floor, she felt the shift in the air.

The nurses who had been milling around the ICU before her break were now huddled around the central desk, whispering.

Their voices were hushed, even to River’s fae senses.

Several of them glanced up, their faces paling as they met her eyes.

River’s stomach dropped to her feet as she approached them.

“What’s wrong?” She placed her tablet and water bottle on top of the desk. “Did something happen while I was on break?”

She glanced over her shoulder, but there were no signs of distress coming from any of the patient rooms. It was after midnight, and they were all sleeping. Besides, if something had happened, the nurses would’ve come to get her immediately.

Arnan Lightfoot, one of the senior ICU nurses, turned his head. His black hair was askew, as if hands had been running through it; a sheen of sweat covered his ebony skin, and he twisted his hands together. His glowing orange eyes, a marker of his werewolf heritage, were lined with tears.

River had gotten to know Arnan a few months ago, and she remembered that he hailed from the Northern Region. His pack was one of the largest in the Republic of Balance…

And it was the same one the Howlers came from.

The moment River met Arnan’s sorrowful gaze, she knew. She knew, and yet, she needed to hear him say it. Needed him to speak into reality what her heart already felt.

The werewolf’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out of it. He scrubbed a hand over his face, but the movement didn’t hide the tear sliding down his cheek.

One of the other nurses, a vampire, squeezed his shoulder in support.

“What happened?” River asked, her mouth a desert.

Arnan swallowed, and the vampire handed him a tissue.

River attempted to breathe deeply, trying to remain calm. She was a doctor, for the gods’ sake. A medical professional. She worked in a hospital where life and death regularly made their rounds, and she understood the ways of the world.

She’d seen firsthand that the most awful, black-hearted people often lived years past their prime, while death courted those who least deserved it first. It was a cruel trick of the world, a sick joke that seemed to have no punch line.

It was because River knew these things that even though icy dread was spreading through her stomach, even though she wanted to remain ignorant for a few minutes longer, she couldn’t. She forced herself to ask the question hovering on the tip of her tongue.

“It’s Lila, isn’t it?” The surgery was extensive, and it should still be underway. Unless… It felt like she’d swallowed cotton ba lls, and she gripped the counter, choking out, “Her tumor removal…”

A fist squeezed her lungs, and the words got stuck in her throat. Jammed, they piled up. She made a hoarse choking sound.

Arnan’s eyes shuttered. “I went to watch. And it… They… She…”

A keening moan rose in his throat, and he looked to the other nurses pleadingly.

“She didn’t make it,” an older, human nurse named Noelle said softly. Wrinkles lined her face, and she’d probably been working at the hospital as long as River had been alive. Her tone was equally caring and professional. “I’m sorry, Doctor Waterborn. I know you worked hard on her case.”

A long moment passed as River stared at Noelle, her brain desperately trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

Didn’t make it .

A crack appeared in the dam River used to keep her power at bay. With every word, the break in the wall grew. Waves of magic crashed against it, relentless in their pursuit of freedom.

The nurses kept speaking and comforting Arnan, but River couldn’t make out their words over the roaring in her ears.

She thought she understood that working in a hospital meant seeing death. She thought she’d prepared herself for it, that her professors had prepared her for it. After all, they’d spoken about it on their very first day of med school.

River would never forget sitting in the front row, watching Doctor Ophelia Darkwater, a witch from the Central Region, pace the front of the lecture hall.

Hands folded in front of her, she’d surveyed the group of first-year students before uttering two sentences that River would never forget for as long as she lived .

“One day, someone will die under your care. You will not be able to save them, no matter how hard you try.”

That day, River’s heart had pounded in her chest, and she’d clutched her pen so tightly, it had snapped in her palm.

Three other first-year students had left that same hour, but not River.

She was intimately familiar with death, and she’d known even then that this path was the only way she could hope to atone for her sins.

Doctor Darkwater had been right that day. River had seen death many times already, but none of those losses had ever affected her like this.

Her chest burned. Lila Howler had been jubilant and full of life. A brilliant flame in the midst of a room of candles.

Every time River had met with the Howlers, their positivity and inherent joy had blown her away. They’d always been smiling in spite of the awful circumstances that brought them to Lakewater General.

And now, Lila’s smile was gone. Her flame was extinguished, never to be seen again.

Bile rose in River’s throat, and she grabbed her water bottle. Leaving her tablet behind, she raced to the nearest washroom. She crashed to her knees, hugging the porcelain as she lost the meager contents of her stomach.

Everything came up, and acidic bile coated her tongue, but it wasn’t enough. The ringing remained in her ears, and those awful words kept cycling through her mind.

Didn’t make it.

River wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she stood on trembling legs. Her knees knocked together like a newborn horse as she made her way to the sink. She rinsed out her mouth and washed her hands .

Gripping the countertop so hard she was worried it would crack, she stared at her reflection. Her brown eyes were wide, her skin was paler than normal, and her mouth moved silently as she repeated Eliza’s mantra.

She tried to remember that she was in control, tried to remember that her magic didn’t hold sway over her, but the mantra wasn’t working. Her veins were already full of her magic, but there was still more. Gods, there was so much.

An endless amount of power slipped through the crack in her dam, until it felt like water was filling her lungs. Every breath hurt; she was drowning on dry land.

River’s fingertips grew damp where she held on to the counter, wrestling with her curse. She couldn’t lose control. Not again, and certainly not here, surrounded by the injured and dying.

Time had no meaning as she grappled with her magic, trying to force it into submission. At some point, the intercom above the door crackled.

“Code blue.” Ice filled River’s veins, and her head jerked up. “Intensive Care Unit.” Her heart was a mallet, slamming against her ribs. She released the counter and raced out the door. “Room four.”

River skidded to a stop in the doorway of Anya Valois’s room, assessing the situation in a split second.

The earth fae hadn’t moved, but her face was entirely drained of color. She was as pale as the sheets on which she lay. Every single machine was beeping, a discordant orchestra cluttering the air and competing for attention. For a human, they’d be loud. For River, they were screaming.

Doctor Hudson wasn’t here. Why wasn’t she here?

There was no time for questions, no time to wait for her to arrive .

Urgency pulsed through River’s veins. Pushing her. Urging her to act swiftly.

“Get me a crash cart,” she ordered, moving to the side of the bed. “Now.”

She didn’t need to look behind her to know the others were obeying. This was how hospitals worked. Doctors and nurses were a team, united by their goal to keep death at bay.

Everything seemed to move in a blur.

“The Stillness is advancing!” a man shouted. River wasn’t sure who had spoken. “It’s encasing the patient’s heart in ice.”

Someone else yelled that Doctor Hudson was on her way.

It didn’t matter, though. It was too late. River stared, her own heart skipping a beat as the rise and fall of Mrs. Valois’s chest stuttered, then stopped entirely.

No, no, no.

Somewhere inside of River, she recognized that the panic she was feeling was disproportionate to the situation, considering that she’d just met the earth fae, but she couldn’t give up.

She reached for syringes, injecting Mrs. Valois with various medicines in an effort to bring her back from the brink of the Fade.

“Nothing’s working,” said a woman.

The machines’ screams crescendoed. River’s magic angrily frothed, rising inside her. Death hovered over the room.

Time slipped on.

River was aware that people were trying to talk to her, but she couldn’t hear them over the deafening drum that was her heartbeat.

“Don’t die,” she whispered over and over again. “Please, don’t die.”

Was she pleading for Mrs. Valois, her father, or both? She didn’t know .

River and her team fought valiantly to save their patient. They tried every drug, every machine, and every action that could possibly restart their patient’s heart. At some point, Doctor Hudson joined them.

They fought and fought and fought, until it became clear they’d lost the battle. A hand landed on River’s. The touch was firm, and she hitched a breath.

Arnan stood next to her, his grieving eyes heavy with unshed tears. “She’s gone, Doctor Waterborn.”

River’s mouth pinched together, and her fingers trembled. “No.”

This couldn’t be the end. The Stillness couldn’t have won. Not now. Not when death had already claimed Lila tonight. Hadn’t it done enough? How many souls did it require?

“Yes, she is.” Arnan’s fingers tightened around hers. “You need to call it, Doctor. You were here first. It’s hospital policy.”