Page 74 of Minding the Minotaur

I swallow my anguish. “You’ve seen it before?”

“Heard of it.”

“Can it be treated? Can she recover?”

“Maybe. I’ve got a jeep outside. To take her back through the portal.”

“You can’t put her through portal travel, not in her current state.”

Jax stares up at me impassively as I tower over him. “How else would you suggest I get her out of here?” he says quietly, and for a moment I see a spark of something like sympathy in the depths of his eyes. “She’s got limited time. Twenty-four hours, I’d say. In Sparkle they have modern technology. Medical treatments that could work.”

“You can’t tell anyone what happened to her. They’ll… harm her, if they know…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make up a convincing story.”

I clench my fists, grind my molars. Then bow my horns and let out a pitiful lowing sound.

Otis takes hold of my arm firmly. It’s not unkind. If anything, it’s a shared kinship, and somehow that hurts more than when he’s being a bastard.

“Let me at least carry her out,” I beg, my voice cracking.

Jax and Otis exchange a glance of agreement. Peg moves away from the sofa to give me access.

I put my arms beneath Sammy’s thighs and shoulders, scoop her up, and hug her gently to my chest. She’s warm, and that in some way gives me hope.

I carry her out to the waiting jeep and place her down on the back seat. Otis brings a cushion, and I place it under her head. I wrap the blanket tightly around her, smooth her hair, stroke her soft cheek, and then bend and place a gentle kiss on her lips.

She doesn’t respond. Not even a flutter of her eyelids.

Jax jumps into the driver’s seat. He gives a salute, unsmiling, his eyes deadly serious now.

Otis salutes back.

I stand there, frozen, like a statue.

Already in grief.

Certain that I will never see her again.

CHAPTER 23

SAMMY

I open my eyes to see Clem’s face floating above me. She leans closer, her green gaze full of love and concern.

“Hey, hon, you’re back,” she murmurs, stroking my arm.

“B-back…? Back from where?” I look around, trying to work out my surroundings. I’m lying in a bed, in a sterile, almost empty room. There’s a drip fixed to my arm. I feel like a fledgling bird that’s fallen out of the nest and has no idea how it got here.

Suddenly, a host of memories are pushing into my brain, confused, fantastical, disjointed. They feel like a dream, and yet—not.

I struggle up to sitting. “Clem, where am I?’

“Sparkle General.”

“You mean hospital?” She nods. “What happened to me?”

Clem glances around, lowers her voice. “You’ve been in a coma. It was touch and go for a while.”