Burning Emerald by Jaime Reed Page B

that I didn’t even know how to give.
    Pulling away, I wiped the tears from my eyes and focused on one crisis at a time. “I need to see Caleb, just for a few minutes.”
    â€œI know, but not tonight. Get some rest. I’ll take you to him as soon as the doctors check on you.” Mom stroked my tube-covered hand.
    Lying back on the bed, I shut my eyes. I didn’t have the strength to analyze this tonight, so I closed all programs and saved the data as a WTF file. Besides, whatever was tunneling inside my IV drip was making me drowsy.
    â€œWill you stay until I fall asleep?” I mumbled against the pillow.
    She kissed my nose. “I’m not leaving you, baby.”
    In moments, sleep took over and I dreamt of Caleb, my knight in shining armor. He stood proud on a mountain summit, surveying his newly conquered terrain with a sword in one hand and a powdered doughnut in the other.
    I could have been asleep for maybe an hour when a nagging throb attacked my stomach. It caused a pull, an unrelenting need to act. This distress call seemed to come from miles away, a desperate plea for help. I tried my best to ignore it, but that only aggravated the ache more. Like a baby wailing in the night for its mother, this alarm pulled me out of a sound sleep to see to its need.
    â€œI’m coming,” I croaked and threw the covers off of me.
    I ripped off the medical tape, and my eyes watered as the top layer of skin peeled with it. Eyebrow waxes were never this brutal. Thankfully, removing the needle in my hands was far less painful. I eased out of the bed and rummaged the supply cabinets for bandages while keeping a watchful eye on my dozing mother. Once I’d dressed the wounds, I tiptoed to the door.
    Mom would have a fit, but I had to see Caleb, just a peek, just a moment of consolation. The vacant hall left me free to walk undetected. If I hadn’t been awake before, the icy tiled floor and cool draft creeping up my hospital gown did the trick. The strange pulling sensation grew stronger with each step, creating a navigational system that allowed me to reach room 278 without conscious effort.
    I opened the door and peered inside. The hall light leaked into the dark space, drawing around the sleeping body in the middle of the bed. I slipped inside and leaned against the closed door, listening to the monitors chirp like nocturnal wildlife. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but my patience was well rewarded.
    I admired his peaceful demeanor, even with the tubes and wires wrapped around him. However, his position made him too inert for sleep, and looked more like preparation for burial. The thought left me drained of strength, and the continuous draw seemed to suck the life from my body. At least now I knew where the compulsion was coming from.
    â€œYou shouldn’t be here, Sam.” The voice carried a faint Irish brogue.
    I spun around to a pair of purple lights flickering in the dark. It followed my every move as I pushed off the door, but I wasn’t afraid. If anything, his presence offered comfort. Last time I’d heard he was doing volunteer work overseas, forever the philanthropist who opened his hands rather than his checkbook.
    The keen glow in his eyes told me that my visit was an unexpected one. His spirit was livid, and he didn’t care who saw it.
    â€œYou’ll make yourself sick. Go back to bed,” Haden advised.
    â€œI will. I had to see him.” I turned back to Caleb. “How is he?”
    â€œUnresponsive. They managed to get his heart rate under control and he’s breathing on his own.”
    Footsteps drew closer. That soft, lavender glow bumbled in the dark.
    â€œHow could this happen, Haden?” I whispered.
    â€œThe lives inside us aren’t human, but we are. Our bodies are just as susceptible to the elements as everyone else.” Rough, callused hands rounded my shoulders and squeezed. “But this is an