Authors: SM Reine
Elise skimmed Lucinde’s records as she began feeding them through. She continued to skim the second part of the stack, which contained duplicate records from Lucinde’s general practitioner. Chicken pox, a case of the flu, referrals to several cardiologists over the years. Elise didn’t see anything about psychoses.
Each sheet of paper seemed to take forever to feed through the machine, and slow inch by slow inch she grew more nervous. She strained to detect any noise from the hallway, half-certain she would hear James failing to ward off a nurse outside. With David Nicholas’s bounced check, she definitely couldn’t afford an attorney.
The fax kicked out the rest of the papers and beeped. She put them back in the folder.
A pulsing noise throbbed between Elise’s ears. The pit of her stomach dropped, and a familiar nausea crept through Elise’s body. She slid the folder into place and headed for the door, holding her stomach.
And then the pulse
burst
.
She staggered, slamming against the wall. Her dinnertime snack of yogurt and granola rose into her throat. She took slow, shallow breaths, trying to hold off the urge to vomit—and failed. The sour tang of bile flooded her mouth.
There was something in the hospital, and James was alone outside.
She spat into the trash can, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and threw open the door.
James was not waiting for Elise outside.
For a second, all she could do was stare at the naked man standing where her aspis should have been. He wasn’t breathing. In fact, he didn’t look like he was alive at all. A toe tag dragged on the ground beside him.
She would have been sure he was a corpse, except that he was standing, and staring, and drooling. Corpses couldn’t drool.
Someone whispered behind Elise. “
Take care of her
.”
She spun, but the hall behind her stretched empty. A light flickered several feet down.
A heavy weight slammed into Elise’s side, and all the breath rushed out of her body. She struck the floor an instant later. Pain exploded in her shoulder.
Elise squirmed out from under his body, freeing her legs so that her foot could lash out. The kick landed in his face. He reeled, unable to get his balance. Another kick, and he collapsed.
His shoulders twitched, and a shudder ran through his body. His mouth flopped open, and his tongue rolled out, covered in thick green mucous.
“Elise,” he said from the floor. His mouth didn’t move to articulate the words, and the voice was garbled and echoing. He almost sounded…feminine. “I wish you hadn’t become involved.”
She stared. “
What
?”
The hallway lights flickered once, and went out completely.
Elise backtracked and hit the wall. She blinked rapidly, trying to make out shapes in the darkness, but the only light came from around the corner, and it wasn’t enough.
Something moved, slipping across the floor, scraping on the linoleum.
She spun, trying to face the source of the noise. It moved behind her, and she raised her fists. “Who’s there?” Elise said, trying to sound calm. Adrenaline sang through her veins.
More noises. Almost like…claws.
To her right.
She twisted, but not quickly enough. Pain flamed across her torso.
She cried out, clutching her stomach. Elise could almost see bulbous eyes sparkle in the darkness, but it darted away before she could focus.
She threw herself at the motion and barreled into something living.
They rolled. Elise punched blindly and was rewarded with the shriek of something inhuman, something terrible. Another fiend. She threw her body weight to roll it over, grabbing at what she hoped was its neck and pressing against the linoleum.
“Who do you work for?” she demanded.
It choked.
Something struck the back of Elise’s head. A gong chimed in her skull, shooting pain down her spine, and she fell.
The fiend scrabbled away. It sounded like the footsteps moved all around her, up and down, inside her skull.
The noise faded. She floated in a sea of her own pulse, trying to feel her limbs. Her fingers twitched, and then her toes.
Thank God
.
Where had they gone?
“Elise?”
Lights flared on. Elise moaned, covering her eyes. The pressure in her head had suddenly disappeared, and despite the pain in every inch of her body, she felt better. The fiends—and the body—were gone.
“James,” she groaned. “Help me up.” He kneeled by her side and lifted her into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” he asked, touching her arms, her forehead, her shoulders, her neck. When his fingers brushed the back of her head, she flinched.
“Yeah,” Elise groaned. “But…don’t touch that again. Where did you go?”
“A nurse passed and I had to ask her where the bathroom was to allay suspicion,” he said. “I doubled back as soon as I could. How bad are you hurt?”
“I could be a hell of a lot worse.” She parted her jacket to check out her stomach. “Oh, damn. I liked this shirt.” It was torn into bloody shreds.
“We need to get you upstairs. What happened?” he asked, helping Elise stand.
“That thing I was feeling earlier,” she said. “It was a fiend. And something else, too.”
“A fiend?”
She stumbled when she tried to stand. James caught her. “They’re these little gargoyle-looking demon things.” Elise touched her fingers to the back of her head. They came away clean. “I don’t think they like me.”
“At least we’re in the right place for horrible injuries.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “All I need is a shot of whiskey and an aspirin.”
“I want Stephanie to check you out,” he said. Elise groaned. “Head injuries are dangerous things. We’ll want that looked at.” She didn’t respond, so he went on. “You’re saying a lesser hellborn was just wandering the hospital?”
“Not quite.” They got into the elevator, and she leaned against the wall. Even that small motion made her ache. “The fiend was with someone. I don’t know who. He was dead.”
James stared. “…Dead.”
“Yeah.” The elevator chimed and began to move. “There was a toe tag on his foot and his skin was blue. He looked like he’d been dead for a couple days.”
“So the fiend was dragging him.”
“No.”
“How was it moving him, then?”
“You’re not getting what I’m saying,” Elise said. “He attacked me. He was animate, but…unconscious.”
“A zombie,” James said.
“I guess. Damn, my head hurts.”
“Hold still. We’re nearly there.”
They got off at the ground level, and James guided Elise toward the nurse’s station. He interrupted a passing candy striper. “Excuse me, but do you know where Dr. Whyte is at the moment?”
“She just went that way.” The girl pointed.
Just around the corner, Stephanie spoke to a pair of men in suits clutching attaché cases. She took one look at the blood on Elise’s shirt and excused herself, ushering James and Elise into an empty room.
“What happened?” the doctor asked, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.
“I got in a fight. Something—someone—hit me in the back of the head.”
Stephanie nodded. “Sit.”
Elise perched herself on the bed, and Stephanie drew a chair up to her side. The doctor thumbed open Elise’s eyelids. She had a second to register Stephanie’s badge—Dr. Whyte, with so many degrees after her name they almost didn’t fit—before a bright light blinded her.
“What year is it?”
“Two thousand nine.”
“Hold still. What’s your full name?”
“Elise Christine Kavanagh.”
Stephanie shone the light in her other eye. “Good. Move your arms. Good. And your legs.” She grabbed a blood pressure cuff off the wall and gestured for Elise to remove her coat. “Hold still for a minute.”
“Is she okay?” James asked, hovering nearby as Stephanie worked.
After a handful of quiet seconds, the doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears again and removed the cuff. “If someone was trying to hurt you badly, they failed. Here, have a couple of these.” Stephanie pulled a bottle of extra-strength headache medicine out of her pocket. “For the next few days, you need to watch out for headaches, sudden fatigue, difficulties with speech or sight. If you experience any of these symptoms, call an ambulance. What happened to your abdomen?”
“Fight with a rabid badger,” she said curtly. “Do you have time to look at it or not?”
“I could be spending this time making friends with the directors.” Stephanie pressed a thermometer to Elise’s forehead. “You’re surprisingly healthy for fighting badgers. Take off your shirt and lay back.” She grit her teeth and lifted her shirt over her head. The skin below her strapless bra was torn and bloody. Purple bruises were rapidly rising on her torso. “When did you get in this fight?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“Interesting. This looks hours old.” Stephanie probed Elise’s stomach with her fingers. “Did you two get what we need?”
“Yes,” James said, slipping the key into her jacket pocket. “Thank you.”
“How did it look?”
“You’re the professional. You’ll have to decide,” Elise said. “Ouch. Is this necessary?”
“Does it hurt more when I press down or when I release?”
“When you press down.”
“Lucky for you, all this blood isn’t a sign of internal damage.” She examined the scratches on Elise’s arm from the night before. “Are you a frequent visitor to my emergency room?”
“No, I usually treat my own wounds,” she said, pulling her arm away from Stephanie.
“Well, in
that
case…” She worked quickly—and not gently. Stephanie wrapped bandages around Elise’s torso to hold the sterile pads in place. “You two better get out of here. I’ll review Lucinde’s files later. Do you think you can get the coven together again tomorrow?”
“I’ll do what I can,” James said. “You have my phone number if you’d like to come over and look at the files, Stephanie.”
“Come on,” Elise interrupted, hopping off the table as she buttoned her jacket over the bandages, “let’s get out of here. I have a concert to attend.”
VI
E
lise woke up
tangled in blood-stained sheets.
Her first panicked thought was that she had been attacked overnight. She found the dagger under her pillow and gripped it like a teddy bear, staring around for signs of danger.
When nothing jumped out, she finally remembered her visit to the hospital. Dancing at the concert afterward must have been too much for her new wounds, and judging by the condition of her bed, she had been thrashing in her sleep, too.
She peeled back her bandages to examine the injuries. The bruises were already yellowing. Healing faster than the average person meant she would be back to normal by the end of the weekend as long as she took care of herself, but dancing had ripped open her scabs. Her skin was slick with blood.
“Shit,” she muttered.
Elise showered in scalding-hot water, bracing her hands against the wall and letting her head hang between her shoulders. The water coursing down her skin stung her injuries.
Her nightmares were getting vivid again. She used to dream about the dead every night, and it was all returning because of James and his goddamn hero complex. Two fights with fiends were more than enough to get the memories flowing.
But she hadn’t been dreaming of death last night. Instead, she had been remembering the day she woke up in the Russian wilderness with James standing over her like an angel.
She toweled off and rewrapped her injuries. Normally, she would have jogged to Motion and Dance for breakfast with James, but she needed to heal. Instead, she started a pot of coffee for Betty and hopped in her car to drive over.
There were already four other cars in the parking lot when she arrived. Elise’s eyes narrowed. Motion and Dance didn’t have any morning classes on the weekend.
James’s apartment was filled with the smell of pancakes and an entire coven’s worth of witches.
Elise stood in the doorway, staring at everyone intruding on their weekend breakfast. Ann and Morrighan chatted on the couch while Stephanie stared down a griddle covered in batter and sausages as though she had never cooked breakfast in her life.
The doctor was wearing the same clothes as the night before. She must have spent the night.
Elise felt numb as she shucked her jacket. So James and Stephanie were together. How long had that been happening?
“You made it!” Ann said brightly. She was eating a piece of toast smothered in jelly. A spot of butter dotted her chin.
“What are you all doing here?”
“We’re going to visit the Ramirezes today to purify their house,” Morrighan said. “We’re getting ready. Are you coming?”
Elise fought to suppress her irritation. “No.”
“Why not?” Stephanie asked.
She stared back in silent challenge.
James must have heard the door shut, because he peered out of his bedroom at the end of the hall. He had a phone pressed to his ear. “Elise,” he called. “Could you please come here?”
She stepped into his bedroom. “You didn’t tell me we were going to have company,” Elise muttered. His private space was just as tidy as the rest of his house. He had even arranged Stephanie’s shoes next to his own in the closet. “Who’s on the phone?”
“It’s McIntyre. He wants to speak to you.”
Surprise melted away her anger in an instant. “McIntyre? Seriously?” She took the phone. “This is Elise.”
“Hey there,” he responded. Lucas McIntyre’s voice flooded her with memories—mostly bad ones.
“What’s do you need?” Elise asked. James hovered over her shoulder to listen to their conversation.
“The semi-centennial summit is coming,” McIntyre said. “It’s in our state. I thought you would want to know.”
Every fifty years, the major world powers met to form treaties and settle disputes—the best of the kopides, the greatest demons, and the most powerful angels. Her father had been on the planning board before he left.
“You’re right. I do want to know. But I’m still retired.”
“Still?”
“It’s supposed to be permanent.”
“I just never thought you, of all people, could lay down the sword for long.” He chuckled. “I thought if you did give up those things, it would be to upgrade to guns.”