Of Wicked Blood (The Quatrefoil Chronicles #1) - Olivia Wildenstein Page 0,155
thing. I have grandchildren.”
Holy shit. Does she think he’d hurt those kids?
“And he’s got a daughter who worships the ground he stands on,” she adds in a small voice.
“Doesn’t do much standing if you ask me. Unless he’s faking his handicap.”
“No. It’s real.” She wipes one cheek, then the other. “Do you promise to keep my secret?”
Going down without a fight goes against every fiber of my being, but there’s so much terror in Nolwenn’s brown eyes. And I don’t want to be the cause of it.
I scrub my hands down my face and heave out a sigh. “Fine. But once I’m gone, you have to swear you’re going to take care of Cadence as though she was your grandkid, Nolwenn.”
“I swear upon the Quatrefoil that I will.”
Is this some sick joke? “The Quatrefoil?”
“Sorry. It’s . . . the saying’s so ingrained in me.”
Taking Rainier’s wrongdoings to my grave better earn me some damned angel wings.
When I return from my walk a half hour before moonset, Cadence’s clinic room is crowded. Adrien stands at the window, fogging up the glass with his slow breathing, staring out into the darkening grayness. Gaëlle leans against the wall under the mounted TV set, head back, eyes closed. Alma sits on the bed, cheek resting upon Cadence’s shoulder. Bastian occupies the Kartell ghost chair in the corner, punching his phone’s screen.
They all turn when I enter, their faces carved in granite.
I avert my gaze.
“I miscalculated, Slate. The new moon sets at 4:47.”
Whoopedy-woo. I get four extra minutes.
“Maybe that’ll give us time to—”
“To what, Bastian?” I don’t mean to sound like an ass.
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Maybe we could—”
“Just let it go. Just fucking let it go.”
The door swings inward, and the doc strides in. She lifts an eyebrow at the amount of people in the room but doesn’t ask any of us to leave. Then she zeroes in on me and smiles. “Ah! You’re due for a rabies shot, Monsieur Ardoin. I was worried you were trying to avoid me.”
There’s no way in hell I am getting a shot before I die. No. Fucking. Way. “I’ll come in tomorrow.”
“Did they ever find that dog?” She looks from me to Adrien. “The . . . what was it again?”
“A German Shepherd-pug,” I answer tonelessly. Doesn’t even make me smile anymore . . .
Adrien crosses his arms. “We found it. And we put it down.”
“Good.” Doc bobs her head, her silver braid settling over her white lab coat. “I’ve been meaning to call you, Adrien. About that puppy.”
Adrien begins to shift on a pair of loafers so shiny they must be from his post-guivre closet.
“I’d really love your thoughts on breeds, and—”
“Doc?” I cut her off. “Can you just tell us if anything’s new with Cadence?”
Her cheeks brighten. She gently shoos Alma off the mattress, eyes the machines and scrolls through some information on a tablet she pulls from the foot of the bed. She shines a pen light into Cadence’s eyes and taps something onto the tablet screen. “For now, no change. But, like I said a couple of days ago, she’s breathing on her own, shows no signs of brain damage, and no signs of infection.”
Also, no signs of life.
“She’s a strong girl. She’s going to come back from this.” Doc puts the tablet back into the pocket at the foot of the bed. “I need to go check on a few other patients, and then I’ll head home. If anything of note happens, one of the nurses will contact me immediately, and I will contact you.”
“Thank you, Sylvie,” Adrien says quietly.
She smiles as she walks out, and then the room falls silent except for the beep-beep-beep of the machines.
I glance at my Daytona: 4:25 pm. Twenty-two minutes to go before Slate Ardoin is no more.
“Can you all give me a bit of privacy with Cadence?” I study the wrinkled plastic IV sack, refusing to look at any of them. Refusing to see the pity in their eyes.
They all reluctantly shuffle out.
I sit on Cadence’s bed, lace my fingers through hers, and say for the hundredth time, “I’m so sorry.”
She doesn’t respond.
I set my gaze on the darkening sky, but all I see is my reflection in the glass. I’m pale and drawn and pretty damn pathetic-looking. Grief has pooled into my eyes and dragged the corners of my mouth down.
Grief at losing Cadence. At abandoning Bastian. At leaving this life.