Too many thoughts constantly race around my brain, too many what-ifs plague my conscience. What if the heart I made him was nothing more than a functioning placebo? What if he was already gone, but I forced his body to keep on going, like some kind of twisted life support machine nons use? What if, even with Enlilkian’s gift of reanimation, it just wasn’t enough from a person with no experience wielding such power? What if he does wake up, and he’s no longer Kellan, but Enlilkian? I used his life essences to bring Kellan back, after all.
Gods, that last what if scares me so much that sleep is elusive.
What if I am nothing better than the mad scientist who brought the dead back, only to raise a monster? What if I have to admit to Jonah and his family that, because I hesitated, Kellan died?
The funny thing is, when Jonah languished in a coma from all of his injuries, I felt his pain. I thought the agony I lived through was proof of his death, that it was some twisted offshoot of our Connection ... only, upon reflection, it truly was. But with Kellan? Okay, yes. I felt what that Elder did to him as if it had happened to me. Now? There’s no pain except that of missing him. And that’s a familiar pain for me, one I’ve learned to live with on a daily basis for a long time now.
So, along with the what-ifs, there’s a whole lot of hope, too.
I’m sitting by the window, watching golden and red leaves fall from the trees surrounding the hospital and knitting while everyone else but Astrid is playing a card game. Poor Cameron and Will got tricked into playing with Jonah and Callie hours back, and neither Astrid nor I had the heart to tell them just how vicious those two can get. It’s already turned ugly; Will is no stranger to trash talking, so he’s joined in merrily with Jonah and Callie as they fight for supremacy. Cameron is clearly outmatched and keeps glancing over at a knitting Astrid in some kind of misguided plea for help.
Without even looking up from her stitches, she reminds him sweetly, “You wanted to play.”
It’s so hard not to giggle at the wounded expression he favors her with. “You could have warned me, woman!”
“Here’s your warning: don’t ever play cards with Lotuses or Whitecombs. You will always lose.”
Everyone in the room stops. Turns and stares at the bed and the person within whose scratchy, tired voice says this.
Kellan is awake. Eyes clear and wide open. Words soft but coherent, looking like he’s just woken up from a nap. Astrid flies out of her chair; so do Callie and Jonah. And all I can think as I join them is thank you, gods.
Thank you.
Kate has been paged. Astrid is hovering; Kellan is tolerating it well. Jonah isn’t saying much, and it worries me, because lines riddle his forehead as he studies his brother. Astrid is doing most of the questioning, and all of Kellan’s answers are clear, if not soft. How are you? Good. Tired. Are you thirsty? A little. Are you hungry? Not really. Are you in pain? Not at all. Are you sure? Yes. Positive? Yes.
She’s on her way to another round of questions when Kellan abruptly says,
“Chloe, I need to talk to you. Alone.”
The entire room goes silent.
“Sweetling,” Astrid says, smoothing back some of his hair, “Kate is on her way to check you out. I’m sure you can—”
He takes hold of her hand and kisses the back of it. “This cannot wait. I’m sorry.” His attention switches to Jonah. “J, can you please help me here?”
Jonah is silent for a long moment as he merely studies his brother. Kellan eventually says, “Jonah. Please. Just for fifteen minutes. Then everyone can come back in.”
It doesn’t make him happy, but Jonah herds everyone out and shuts the door behind him. Once everyone’s gone, Kellan and I have a stare-off.
I’m the first to look away.
I clear my throat, count to ten to steady myself. “You cannot believe how glad I am you’re awake. You had us all scar—”
“I can’t hear my brother.”
My mouth snaps shut; my eyes fly to his face. He’s struggling to sit up. I hurry over and try to urge him to relax, but he’s having none of it. “Did you hear me?”
“I—”
“I can’t feel my brother.” There’s so much anxiety reflecting out of his beautiful eyes. “Or you. Or Astrid. Or Cameron. Or anyone else in this godsdamn room. Or building.”
His words are soft and shaky and hard to hear over the pounding in my ears. “When Jonah woke up, he ... he had trouble feeling me for a few hours, too, so—”
“I’ve been awake for a while now, most of the day. Just ... watching you guys.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I kept nodding on and off. Was too tired to talk for some time, could barely keep my eyes open, so I just listened. Listened and did a lot of thinking. And the thing is, in this entire time, I have not been able to hear my brother.”
I grab his hand; he takes it away.
“I cannot surge with him, either. Or you. Or anyone else.”
I fear my knees are going to give out. I fumble for something, anything that could explain this, because Kellan looks so heartbroken right now. “You two were blocking each other, right? Before you left?”
“I stopped blocking him the moment his pain shattered through our walls,” he says calmly. “It’s how I found him. I tracked him through our thoughts, like I did when you froze time.”