Page 5

CRUX

“My niece is to have all the best this hospital has to offer. A private pack room. No questions asked. Make it happen.”

Charisma walked like she was going to war.

Her white hair was slicked back and looked like a helmet.

As she moved, the gossamer scarf around her neck fluttered like a battle flag in the air and seemed to trail ten feet long.

She stopped pointedly in front of the doctor and removed her stylishly over-sized mirrored glasses.

“Ma’am,” the doctor stammered. “That’s not my area. I’m not in control of room assignments.”

“Well, then I suppose you’re my little messenger boy, and you’re going to sing my request into the appropriate ears, aren’t you?”

“You better listen to her, Dr. Houser,” Halo said from the phone. “She can make it worth your while.”

Charisma took the phone from the doctor. “Halo, my darling! You’re still not in the air?”

“We’re boarding any minute.”

“Fly safe. And try to remain calm. There’s nothing you can do until you get here. No sense worrying. I have it all under control.”

“I know, Charisma. Thank you. Text me the moment something changes.”

“Of course, my darling. See you soon.”

They ended the call and Severen took the phone from the distinguished omega.

Charisma Evercrest never bonded. She was a rare breed when it came to omegas, a paragon, someone who couldn’t form bonds, but alpha bullshit didn’t work on her, anyway.

I got the feeling that even if she were a regular omega, she would still be single by choice, living for her career as a world famous fashion designer.

She looked at the doctor. “You’re still here. Go make sure Skye is comfortable.” She made a shooing motion with her hand.

Dr. Houser nodded at us both then scurried off.

I realized that, at some point in all this, I got to my feet. That was the effect Charisma had, you didn’t want to come across as lazy or disrespectful in her presence.

She eased her aloof nature as she looked at us, and lowered her voice to more private levels.

“What is wrong with my little bluebird?”

“Heart failure,” Severen said. “She needs a heart transplant ASAP.”

The colour drained from Charisma’s face.

“It’s a problem with the chambers in her heart,” Severen explained. “They’re too weak for her heats.”

“It’s my fault,” I said, my skin hot, sweat pricking at my scalp and rolling down my back. “I was too rough with her. If only I could have been a civilized fucking human being and controlled myself…”

“Crux, you heard the doctor.” Severen said. “It was just a shitty luck of the draw.”

“If you need someone to blame, blame Bianca,” Charisma sat in the chair next to me.

“The expectations she had for her daughter.” She shook her head and narrowed her eyes.

Thin, delicate crows feet perched there like guardians.

She opened her stylish bag that cost more money than I ever made in a month, and pulled out her phone.

“I’ve been calling, and texting, but Skye’s mother has washed her hands clean of her. ”

“Skye kept reaching out,” I said. “No response. The last time they spoke was the day we bonded with her, when they had that big fight. She sent a text that we were moving to Port Haven. And I could feel that it was like… closing the door on that relationship.” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “I’d kill for a drink.”

“In lieu of that, is there anything I can do?” Charisma asked.

“Skye would probably want you close,” Severen said.

A nurse cleared her throat. “Heller Pack? You can go up to see your omega now. Take the elevator to floor 4, room 403.”

“Thank you,” said Severen.

The three of us walked to the elevator, Charisma already texting Halo the room number. We walked in.

It was a welcoming suite. There was a sitting room, with nice, plush, but easy to clean leather furniture. A coffee table, a small kitchen area and two bathrooms, one for guests and one closer to the hospital bed.

The hospital bed behind the curtain, which we moved aside to unveil our sickly omega.

Skye was in the bed, with her hands outside of the blankets and resting at her sides.

Wires slithered from her hospital gown, to a forest of various machines that blinked and beeped.

An IV stand held three bags of various solutions, and they all dripped at different times.

A heart rate monitor was clipped to her right index finger.

Thick tubes, like roots growing from a machine by the bed, snaked under her blankets and disappeared somewhere inside her.

To me, it was a forest of pale, sickly green vines, except for the blue tubes that shone like neon.

On the small side-table next to her bed was a paper bag with her name on it.

Severen opened it, paused, reached in and pulled out a little bit of fabric.

The blue and white bone china patterned dress she had been wearing.

He let go and the swath of fabric dropped back into the bag.

He closed it up again, sat next to her and took her hand.

Skye looked so small. So frail. Not at all the vivacious, bright woman we all loved so much.

In my colourblind eyes, she stood out in a different way, a way that terrified me. “She looks… blue.”