Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

35: Reborn in blood

I took a sip and gagged immediately. Somehow it was worse to try and drink blood civilly. Sucking it out of a bullet wound was weird, but drinking blood was weird in general. They went hand in hand.

My hand was starting to shake enough that Dohn noticed and held it for me. With his other hand, he helped tip the glass into my mouth. The blood was warm from sunlight and thick, having settled over the months since its collection.

About a fourth of the way I started hacking the blood right up again- I couldn't help it. When I tried to swallow, my mouth burned and my throat seemed to close up. I pressed my lips together tightly as I tried to force myself to swallow. Dohn even joined in my attempted, clamping a hand over my mouth. But a trickle forced its way past my lips, dribbling down my chin in a watery and pale stream.

I managed. But there was still a lot of blood left, and I still wasn't feeling any better. Half way through my glass I had to stop to puke on the floor.

"Do you have to redrink that?" Dohn asked.

I waved his question off with the clear nonvocal reply of 'If I do, I sure am not going to' and took another sip. My head was empty and light, filled only with thoughts of metal and how nice it'd be to pass out right now.

"Do you feel your Grace coming back yet?"

I was taking slower and slower sips, my stomach feeling restless and very full, and Dohn was beginning to glance over at me at more and more frequent intervals.

"It can't." I said lazily, spitting blood a bit as I did so. "I'm like a pot with a lid. Just hope some fall through the cracks and lasts me a little while longer."

"You're talking more."

But I was slurring throughout. Probably not a sign of any real progress.

I finished the glass at last, but surely three-fourths of the contents ended up on the floor moments after swallowing. I fell back on the bed, dizzy headed.

"Are you going to sleep? Is that a good idea?" Dohn asked.

I gritted my teeth, a habit I had never had practiced before and only tried because I recalled it being something people did when stressed.

"I'm still not dead. I should just keep moving on."

"Where to?"

I sat up. "I dunno. It's not like I can count on what little Grace I've absorbed to keep me alive for very long. So maybe I'll live on for a couple more hours. Dunno what I'll do though."

"What was the point of all this then? Breaking into this room and drinking all this blood if you have nothing to do with it's granted power?"

"Guess I have unfinished business to attend to in Hell still." I sighed. "Sorry. It's just, fight or flight. And I keep choosing fight."

"Because you lost your wings?"

"That was a terrible, terrible attempt at humor. I'm far funnier than you."

"I don't think I've ever heard you crack a joke."

"I've been doing it a lot lately. You should have seen me last time I was in Hell. Lots of jokes. And I swear I had a sense of humor back in Heaven too."

"Once you lose your name, you also lose your history. Nothing counts anymore!" It was a surreal subject for the two of us to be laughing about, but I was exhausted and Dohn was just that kind of guy.

"Paint this when we're done." I told him.

"What do you mean by 'this'? This room? This battle? You?"