“N-no,” Cody’s whisper.
Marna looked over at him. Tanner had put his hands on his brother’s chest, and she knew he was trying to stop the blood. Trying, but it wasn’t going to work. His fingers were just getting soaked in blood.
Kali reached for a needle and syringe. “You the right type?”
Humans had types. Angels didn’t. “I’m the only type you need.”
Kali’s brow rose, but she didn’t ask any more questions. She just said, “Then I’m gonna rig this thing because we don’t have time to waste. Your veins to his, and if he dies . . .” Her breath rushed out. “Then at least we tried.”
Marna wondered if the others could smell the light scent of flowers that had drifted into the room. Death was close.
“N-no.” Cody began to thrash on the narrow bed. “Don’t w-want . . .”
“You want to live, don’t you?” Tanner snapped at him. “Then you let us help you.”
Cody shook his head. “W-won’t take her . . . bl-blood. ”
Kali hesitated.
Tanner swallowed and stared down at his brother. Just looking at Tanner’s face hurt Marna then, and she rubbed at the ache in her chest. An ache that seemed centered right over her heart.
Voice quiet, Tanner said, “If you don’t take her blood, you’ll die. Are you really gonna make me watch you die?”
Lines of pain bracketed Cody’s mouth. “If . . . t-take it . . .” Every word seemed to bring him more agony, but he kept struggling to speak. “Go back to . . . wh-what I was . . . l-like . . .”
“You’ll never be that way again! I promise. I can help you. I can—”
“A-addic . . . ted . . .” was Cody’s hushed whisper. “L-lost.”
Marna lifted her hands and stared down at the faint, blue outline of the veins at her wrists. Someone who didn’t want her blood? Now that was a change.
“I’m not letting you die.” Tanner was adamant. Fierce. The way she liked him.
Blood dripped from Cody’s lips. “Pl . . . please . . .” His whisper was almost painful to hear. “One t-time . . . let mme . . . do . . .” His body jerked. “S-something . . . right.”
“You’ve always done the right thing!” Tanner yelled back. Yells and whispers. So opposite, but both so desperate. So sad. “You were the good one. The one who had a chance. We both know I’m screwed up. That I’ve got the bastard’s darkness in me.”
Marna frowned. Tanner didn’t have darkness inside of him. He was good. Kind.
Kali and Riley just watched the brothers and didn’t speak, and Marna found she had no words to say, either.
Another tremor shook Cody. “Please . . .”
Tanner’s hands were still on his chest. “What the hell am I supposed to do without you?”
“L-love . . . her.”
The words were so garbled Marna wasn’t sure if she’d heard correctly. Her gaze dropped to Cody’s body. His stomach . . . how much pain he must feel. How much suffering. Why hadn’t a death angel come for him yet? If Cody wasn’t going to take her blood, why did he have to suffer?
“Why?” The whisper was hers, but then she noticed . . .
Something was happening to Tanner’s hands. A faint glow appeared around his fingers. Frowning, she stepped closer. She’d never seen anything like that before, and in her very long lifetime, she thought for sure that she’d seen everything. “Tanner?”
“What the hell?” Riley’s voice. He’d seen it, too.
Kali’s gaze flew back to her patient. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to make this bastard live! If he doesn’t take the blood, he’ll—”
“No.” Marna cut through his words. She was almost close enough to touch Tanner now. Only she was afraid to touch Tanner. That light . . . “What are you doing with your hands?”
Tanner stared at her, face tense; then he looked down at his hands, resting on Cody’s wounds. At the fingers with their faint white light.
“You’re a healer.” Kali’s voice was relieved. “Jeez, man, you should have said that right away. I thought you were a shifter—”
“I am.” He was still staring at his glowing fingertips.
Cody wasn’t jerking any longer. His eyes had closed. Were his wounds trying to close, too? It looked like less blood was pouring from him, but maybe she was just hoping too much.
Kali leaned in closer and stared at Cody’s wounds. “Then how the hell are you doing this?”