The Order: Hit and Run by Emma Cole Page 0,7
leather pouch, and when he begins unrolling it, my eyes widen.
“What the hell are those?” He has all manner of sharp implements and little vials of unidentifiable matter.
“We’re a sect of something between a druid and a warlock, as you might know it. A crossbreed if you will. We’re currently known as the Order, but there have been other names over the years, and other sects have different titles. That’s about all I can explain in this short amount of time.”
I have so much more I want to ask, but fixing Cora is my number one priority here. I stand, bent over the sink and shirtless, when he carves the first line. When he’s done, there are crooked cuts that make up what I’d loosely describe as scales.
“They’re the sign we use for balance. We’re going to tip the “scales” in Cora’s favor and against yours. I’m not proficient yet. This was more Damien’s area than mine. If I did it correctly, the next steps will prove it.” He doesn’t waste any time before dumping a chalky blue powder into his hand and rubbing it into the carvings in my skin.
I bury my face in my shoulder, trying to muffle the yell that escapes despite my best efforts to keep it in. Drake turns the tap on and urges me further down before rinsing the powder and blood off, leaving a dyed light blue scar in the shape of the scales. It looks like a faded tattoo with a brighter blue dot directly over my heart.
“Please tell me you don’t have to do this to Cora too?” I’m really hoping the answer is no.
Drake grants my wish. “No, nothing so drastic. You did the hard part. Well, almost all of it. The hardest part is yet to come, but from what I could find, it shouldn’t hurt if that’s worth anything.” It’s really not, but oh well. “One last thing. I need some of your blood.” The hesitancy in Drake’s tone has me suspicious.
“Okay, but why?” He doesn’t seem as if he’s going to answer for a moment.
“Essentially, Damien’s legacy passed on to me, but what no one besides the other four out there know, and now you, is that we did a blood pact when we were younger, it lets us draw from each other without much effort. It was dumb, and we didn’t understand the consequences at the time. This is the only reason I can do this without a full-on coven to help me. But it has to be directed through will and flesh. So, the blood. I’ll take a bit from all of us, we’ll get it into the IV transfusion bag, and as soon as we start to feel the drain, we’ll— we’ll direct it to you.” He turns his face down to the floor, shame written across it.
They don't actually need me. They can save her themselves, but one or more may not survive the drain, so it's on me to do it. I want to get pissed, but really, what power do I have in this situation? There’s nothing to do without their help, and as skeptical as I am, I have to try.
“I understand,” I reply softly. Drake brings his gaze up and nods his head, turning to get a basic blood draw kit. He has a whole compartment full of them in his workbag, workroll, whatever the thing is.
It only takes a few moments until the vial is filled, and I’m putting my shirt back on over the band-aid on my arm.
“Send the others in, please, when you go out,” Drake requests as he sets up for the others. Again, I nod in agreeance and keep going, sliding the trashcan out of the way as I do.
After it’s all done, and we’re once again waiting, it’s only a short time until a nurse comes out to direct me to Cora.
“Wait, I know only I can stay, but can they say a quick prayer for her? It would mean so much. Two minutes and they’ll leave.” She begins to waver, and I instantly lie. “They’re all the family she has, and after the baby… please.” I’m ashamed to use that card, but I'll do anything to save Cora.
“Fine. In and out. You have five minutes, and I’m being generous. Please keep it down. There are others recovering as well.”
We follow the nurse out into the hall past the nurses’ station and enter the Critical Care Unit. There are drawn curtains all around,