bitter as hearts. She swallowed it down.
15
Down the Rabbit Hole
ALEX WOKE TO cold sheets and the sound of rain, to dreams clinging thick as cobwebs behind his eyes. Dreams of being young and lost, of searching frantically for a woman who wasn’t his mother, a woman who wouldn’t turn and show him her face.
He sighed into the pillow; his subconscious was such a waste of good processing power.
He tugged the covers closer and dozed again, waiting for Liz to return. The alarm clock on the bedside table was a green-and-black blur until he snaked out an arm and found his glasses. Eleven o’clock. Minutes rolled by with no sign of Liz. The room was so still he could hear the electric hum of the clock. Finally he surrendered his hard-won warmth and rolled out of bed. The movement triggered a sticky cough deep in his chest.
He found Liz in the curtained gloom of the living room, asleep on the couch. Her hair trailed across the cushions and one foot dangled against the floor. He sighed to see her sleeping so peacefully. Then he saw the glitter of glass in her palm.
“Liz?”
Her breath was shallow, pale lips parted. An unsettling sweet scent clung to her skin. She didn’t stir as he pried open her cold fingers. He stared at the vial, at the last drop of fluid clinging to the glass, and the tightness in his chest had nothing to do with asthma.
No amount of shaking or pinching or calling her name could rouse her. Her pulse was steady but weak, her breath even, but she was insensible as... as a coma patient. As Blake.
Maybe they could share a hospital room.
“You idiot,” he whispered, and wasn’t sure who he meant. He should have known. He should have seen it coming. He stopped himself as he reached for the phone, clenched his fist and nearly punched a wall. She wouldn’t want him to call the hospital.
If he’d listened to her earlier, if he’d shared the things he’d seen—
That was a pointless line of thought. He could excoriate himself later.
He wrapped her in a blanket and sat beside her, stroking her tangled hair. An hour passed with no change. If anything, Liz was paler than ever, the shadows around her eyes deeper. It wasn’t until Alex’s fingertips began to ache that he realized he was rubbing the medallion at his throat. He couldn’t sit here helpless—there had to be something he could do.
He swallowed an unpleasant taste. There was something, an alternative to a hospital, loath as he was to use it. But what choice did he have?
He left Liz inert on the sofa and went to retrieve Antja’s number.
SHE ARRIVED HALF an hour later, damp from the unceasing rain. Alex blinked when he opened the door; her face was scrubbed clean, no cosmetics to hide her chewed lips or bruised eyes. No masks.
“What— Oh.” Her eyes slid past him to Liz and she stepped inside. He bolted the door behind her.
“How long has she been this way?” she asked, kneeling beside the couch.
“I found her an hour and a half ago, but she might have been like this for hours before that.” Alex folded his arms, forcing himself to give her room when he wanted to hover.
Antja ran careful fingers over Liz’s brow, her dark eyes unfocusing. She pulled her hand back with a frown, fists clenching against her thighs.
“Can you do anything?” Alex asked.
She shook her head, her ponytail arcing across her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
He pulled the vial from his pocket and tossed it to her. “She got this from Rainer, didn’t she?” The words were harsh and ugly; fear and fury were a jagged lump in his throat.
Antja caught the glass tube and stared at it. Her already pale lips pinched white as eggshells, and a crease formed between her brows. “Yes.”
He took a step toward her. “Blake and Alain weren’t enough for him? How many more people is he going to kill?”
Antja’s chin lifted. “He’s done everything he can for Blake. And this was Liz’s decision.”
The truth of that meant nothing to his rage. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm. The vial fell from her hand as he shook her. “I’m tried of tricks and excuses and lies. Bring her back!”
Dark eyes widened; flesh dented under his fingers. His anger drained away, leaving nausea in its place. Antja let out a rush of breath that was nearly a laugh as he jerked away.
His legs