Nothing happens.
I clutch Iris’s fingers in one hand and Saint Expedite in the other.
“Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death.”
“Clear!”
And you’ll always come for me, won’t you?
Yes. Always.
I’ll always come for you, too, Kenan.
“Clear!”
“Lotus, it isn’t working,” Iris says, wriggling her fingers in my tight grip.
“No, don’t let go.” I turn to her, desperation making my voice sharp and high. “Please don’t let go. Look at me.”
She does, and the fear, the despondence gathering in her eyes, I combat with faith, with the assurance I may not be entitled to, but seize as mine. For him. I have to.
“Feel my words in your mouth,” I tell her, hoping, praying, begging the conduit of our blood to save him. “Feel my power in your veins. It’s the power of the unbroken line. Two women from our lineage together. There’s power in that.”
“I’m trying, Lo,” she says. “To believe.”
“Try harder!” I command, my voice rising above the beep of machines and the tightly-contained panic of the medical team.
“No change,” Dr. Madison mutters gravely.
My blood, my body, my thoughts – frenzied. “This is the biggest hopscotch of my life, Iris. I need you to believe.”
That word hopscotch is holy to us, our covenant. The fear fades from Iris’s eyes. And if it’s not faith that takes its place, it’s at least resolve. I can work with that.
“You know who I am,” I whisper with tears streaming from my eyes, rivulets of desperation. My face crumples and my shoulders tremble. My head hangs, but my faith holds strong. “This man’s soul hangs in the balance. I’m here to make my judgment known. I’m here to lay a stone on the side of . . .”
“Clear!”
“Life!”
“Clear!”
“Love is as strong as death,” I whisper. “Love is as strong as death. Love is as strong as death.”
“Clear!”
“Love is as strong as death.”
46
Kenan
“Button.”
That croaked word is all I can squeeze out from a throat as dry and burning as the Sahara.
“Mr. Ross, you’re awake.” A nurse with salt-and-pepper hair smiles and puts a cup to my lips. “Drink a little. Slowly.”
I’m connected to at least two machines, as far as I can tell. Everything is so hazy, like a layer of Jell-O’s been poured over the room. My words, my movements—everything is slowed down, and every breath costs me. I feel myself slipping back under, but fight to maintain consciousness.