Escott focused solely on the buzzing in his ears. Someone gripped his hand tight.

Distant voices rushed in and out. He could hear his father say, "But he looks better than the others. His skin's fine."

"Maybe but check his stats—shit. Move."

Maybe someone shoved the old man aside. All Escott heard was another sharp cry—a warning—before a force slammed into his chest. It came again.

"Amp up the charge," someone screamed. "He's a Newbreed."

A machine whined higher and then that charge again.

"Again!"

One more led to a constant bleep, bleep, bleep.

"His heart's moving, but it's sped up again. It's like it's choking. It goes full speed then stops."

Through the chatter and cries, no doubt from others seeking help, the Chief's voice came and went like a gargled whisper.

"But he looks better than the others."

"Other than Winrose," the medic said, "Essy's the only one succumbing to it this fast. It takes days for an imp to die from this agent's original form. Winrose is hardly affected. We've tried using his blood, but his antibodies are so damn aggressive that we're afraid his blood might kill any Newbreed who gets it. Essy's resisting it. That's why I think—"

The world faded. That familiar ringing came again and then a pound on his chest.

"Breathe, you fucker. Breathe."

That was no way for a medic to talk.

"You want to do what?" Escott's father asked. "But the pregnancy...."

"I'm suggesting injecting this into your imp wife. The infection's already reached your unborn. But for whatever reason, Essy can resist and his blood's not poisonous to other Newbreeds. That might mean the imp to sire him has a stronger immune system."

"And the baby?" Escott's old man asked.

The baby.

"That's what I'm trying to say. Imps were the original target for this thing. They built up a real resistance. Every other Newbreed here has an imp father and a human mother. Escott's the only one with the opposite. All the other imps from that generation are hibernating. It's already reached your unborn by now, and yes...the likelihood of a stillbirth is very high. I'm sorry. But I have to save the ones I can."

Escott tried to move, but the world wobbled. He hated not having full control of his eyes.

"No." Though his throat burned, he still cried out. "No. No. Give it to me. If you've got something you need me to fight, then give it to me. Don't give it to my mother—"

Ring. Ring.

And then silence.

This time when Escott came back from the darkness, most chatter faded. He felt steady but while before he could make blurred faces out, now he saw only shadows.

The grip holding his was a comfort and he tried to hold it back.

"Lilah...." Just knowing she was close was all Escott needed. "I really wanted to marry you. I really did."

"He's asking for Lilah," his father said through tears. "Bring her in here, please. And get a priest."

His father. All this time Escott imagined Lilah holding onto him, much like he was sure he'd hold onto her if the tables were turned. It was his father.

The thought made Escott laugh in spite of himself. "Don't want you to be the only thing I see before I die, old man. At least I'd want to be around the good parent."

A sniff stifled a sob. Escott hated that, hated seeing his life-long opponent crying by his bedside.

"Essy," the Chief blubbered. "They gave you more of the poison. They gave you more and I told them to. I need your forgiveness for that."

Escott scoffed. Like he'd care. It was for the right reasons. "Is the baby going to be okay? Tell me they're both going to be okay and that's all that matters."

"You have to forgive me."

"Idiot," Escott whispered. "You two've been married twenty-two years. Of course, I want you to have twenty-two more. No forgiveness, jackass. Just make sure everybody makes it out alive. What about Gwen?"

"Gwen? Gwen is here?" the Chief exploded out of his chair. "My daughter's here. Fucking find her."

The pain after that was Escott's only focus. He wanted to cry, it was so awful. He awoke again, this time with his eyes seemingly sewn shut. It took ages for him to realize his skin wasn't supposed to burn like this and was swollen.

He'd gotten more of whatever this was...whatever this thing was that was killing everyone.

Winrose was okay. That was good. He'd just lost his mother. His father'd come back from hibernation to find a dead wife and son. That wouldn't be good. Imps mated for life—he'd be all alone.

Escott tried to focus on his own family. He prayed Gwen would stop with her dumb hiding and let others see her.

"Gwen...." Escott choked back a cry. "Gwen. You and this invisible shit...."

"We've got her," someone said. "She's fine. She's more human than Newbreed. She's immune."

"Lilah...." Escott breathed out a sigh of relief. "Lilah...."

Despite Lilah's voice, Escott couldn't tell how close she was—if she was close at all.

"Lilah?"

Eons passed before she finally answered, "I'm here, Essy. The quarantine's up and I'm here."

"I wanted to marry you. I just wanted you to know that." Pain shot through Escott's body. He tensed up involuntarily. "Oh fuck."

The Chief wasn't all that far off, yelling at someone. "No. You shouldn't see him. Think of the baby and sit the fuck down."

Escott didn't mind swearing at his father and vice versa, but he never took kindly to that language with anyone else in the house.

"His skin's coming off," Lilah lamented. "Should it come off like that?"

"Yes," the medic answered. "It's likely his fingernails will fall out soon. He's fighting it, though...but let's hope we can get a high enough concentration before the others succumb to it. His hair'll fall out next."

"I remember," Lilah said, "I've seen this sickness for the last ten years. Trust me. I remember."

Escott's joints locked up. He barely recognized his own voice when he cried out.

"Be ready," the medic told someone. "As soon as the fingernails grow back, we'll take as much blood as he can spare."

There was darkness after that. Escott bobbed in the black. He lay beyond feeling, beyond pain, beyond breathing.

"It's not working. None of it's grown back," someone complained. "Three days is the most we can wait." He whispered to someone else maybe, "Try to make them comfortable. Tell their mothers to prepare themselves for the possible mass loss. And don't sugarcoat it. There's no nice way to say this."

Rather than the darkness next, Escott found himself surrounded by white. He could hear, though. The Chief offered him a prayer.

"This wasn't how I wanted to see your wedding, Essy. Just know that." Finally, his father said, "Lilah...it's now or never."

There was little sensation at first, but in time, Escott could feel the hand holding his. This one was smaller, slender—Lilah.

Escott struggled to hear the words read for them. He heard his cue, though.

"And do you Escott Nicodemus—"

"Yes, of course," Escott whispered, interrupting his own lengthy name. "Of course, I do."

He could barely make out Lilah's name when the priest addressed her instead. Escott's only regret was not hearing her speak when it was her turn. He heard nothing for so long that when the white and the stillness came, he couldn't calm. He wanted to hear it. He had to. After all this time, a two-year engagement deserved a proper ending. He wanted to hear her words...just for himself.

No one should be left widowed this early in life and he was sorry for that, but he also found his peace in knowing they were properly wed. He just wanted to hear her.

He began to sink. A sharp force dragged him down, drowning him in pain and bright light. He kept his head up. He just wanted to talk to her, at least once. She deserved that.

And when he began to drown, he struggled to breathe, to keep his head high in an effort to hear her voice again.

Pain ripped through him nonstop, but he didn't care. He endured it in hopes of going back. He didn't care. He was married.

It was the only thing Lilah ever asked of him and they'd been waiting for the right moment. None of it ever seemed right. Now they'd done it and he needed to see her again, at least once.

Escott never learned to swim, but he could float. He used that basic knowledge to his advantage now and kept above what he could only assume was water.

Centuries came and went—no, a lifetime—before he heard a beep...beep...beep again.

"Escott?" the Chief was there. "Medic. Medic, he's awake."

"Incredible...."

"And his nails have come back in. That's a good sign, right?"

Without answering the Chief, the medic hurried past. "Get as much blood from him as you can, we'll start with the ones in the northern rooms first. They're bad.

Each jabbing needle brought mixed feelings of pain yet relief for feeling them at all.

When they were finally finished, the Chief sat down again. "And everything's okay. We had to deliver early, but you have a new baby brother. Poison and sickness free."

Escott breathed out a sigh of relief.

More than anything, Escott wanted some water to drink. He could barely gesture to his mouth. One attempt was all it took before his father shot to his feet and said, "I've got you. I'll get some."

Time healed all wounds and that was certainly the case here. Time. And time was an endless demand Escott's body had.

The day he could open his eyes was the day he found the Chief slumped over sleeping.

Escott tried to sit up.

The man rustled. "Essy?"

At first afraid of speaking, other times had been like swallowing needles, eventually Escott managed to sit back.

"I'm alive." Escott still had trouble focusing, but his father's worried grimace came into view after a lengthy stare. "Urg. Last face I wanna see right now."

The Chief didn't bristle like he usually did. Instead, he wiped his eyes.

"Essy...."

"Don't get all kissy face on me. How long have I been here?"

"Two weeks," the man said. "Two weeks now."

Escott looked around. "Lilah...."

His father couldn't meet his gaze.

"What?" Escott demanded.

"It's...it's complicated."

"What's fucking complicated? Where's my wife?" Escott demanded.

His father glanced down at Escott's left hand balled into a fist. It must have been like that for a while because it took more effort to open his hand than he'd imagined.

The sight of the ring confused him. "What...?"

His father swallowed hard before confessing, "It's...not something I want to discuss right now."

As Escott focused on the metal in his hand, reality dawned. "This is Lilah's ring. I made it myself." He scanned the busy room, desperate to spot her. "Where is she?"

When his eyes settled on his father, the man finally said, "She's not coming, Essy. She didn't finish the ceremony. I'm sorry."