‘Cyrus?’ she croaked.
Nothing. No answer. Just silence. A breeze, as if a fan was blowing directly on her, and then she heard the sound of the door clicking shut.
She turned her head, wincing at the stabbing pain that shot up her neck.
The room was empty. The corridor outside was blurred by opaque glass.
What had happened to the others? What about Flic and Jamieson and the girl and RJ? What had happened to them? And to Victor?
Victor. She remembered him standing there now. In the garden. He’d saved her. He’d killed that Original. The only reason she was alive was because of him. Her breathing was hiking, the mask was fogging up, the machine by her head was beeping so loud she wanted to rip the wires out of it and make it stop.
The door suddenly flew open. She twisted her head to see. Victor was standing in the doorway. His black suit was stained with dark blotches.
He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Evie’s fingers fumbled along the edge of the bed, trying desperately to locate the call button. She wished she could breathe freely; she wished she could sit up.
She finally tugged her hand free, feeling the rip of flesh as the IV in her wrist tore out. She snatched off the oxygen mask.
‘Get out,’ she hissed, falling back onto the pillow.
‘I came to see if you were OK.’
‘I’m fine,’ she panted. ‘Now get out.’
Victor paused by the side of her bed, studying her. Then he nodded. Why was he here? Why had he saved her? He knew that she was only going to try to kill him as soon as she was on her feet again.
Victor stared at her for a few more seconds before he turned and walked back to the door.
‘I don’t owe you,’ Evie called to his departing back, hauling herself onto one elbow.
Victor turned slowly to face her. ‘I know.’
She fell backwards onto her pillow again, struggling for breath. The room had started spinning. Suddenly he was standing over her, looking down on her. He lifted her oxygen mask and placed it gently over her mouth and she tried frantically to twist her head away, convinced that he was trying to suffocate her.
He moved back away from the bed and her breathing settled, though the machine was beeping fast enough to make her think she was about to have a heart attack.
The door burst open again.
‘What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!’
It was Cyrus. He strode the two paces to the bed and planted himself between her and Victor. ‘I said, get out,’ he repeated. ‘Or you’re going to be the one needing the hospital bed and the transfusion. Do you understand me?’
Victor stared at him for a few seconds, then turned and strolled out of the door.
Cyrus spun to face her, his face pale but the relief at seeing her awake clear in his expression.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, his voice soft all of a sudden, his eyes searching her face.
Evie dragged the oxygen mask off. ‘Like I got bitten by an Original and lost eight pints of blood.’
‘You did. I thought …’ His voice cracked and she noticed his hands gripping the bed rail as though it was the only thing holding him up. ‘I thought for a moment I’d lost you.’
Lost her? She hadn’t known that he’d ever found her.
‘Where are the others?’ she asked through cracked lips.
Cyrus crossed to the table and poured her a glass of water. He brought it back to her and, sliding one arm under her shoulders, gently lifted her head so that he could tip the glass against her lips.
‘Flic and Jamieson are downstairs. We’re all trying to avoid the cops.’
‘The cops?’ Evie spluttered, water splashing down her chin.
Cyrus nodded at two dark shapes that had materialised out of nowhere on the other side of the door. He laid her gently back down on the pillow. ‘I snuck in. The doctors told me only relatives could see you.’
‘Didn’t you tell them something about being my boyfriend?’ she asked.
Cyrus looked away. ‘I, er, thought they might let me stay with you if they thought we were, you know, together.’
‘You couldn’t have gone with brother? They might have actually let you stay if you’d said that.’
He frowned at her, then shrugged.
Evie pushed herself suddenly up onto her elbows. ‘Get me out of here,’ she said.
‘You’re not going anywhere.’ Cyrus smiled and shook his head ruefully.
‘There are cops outside the door. They’re going to start asking questions soon, Cyrus. Won’t they have your prints from before? You’re an escapee from a mental hospital.’
Cyrus frowned. ‘I’m not leaving you.’ But simultaneously he seemed to be realising that he couldn’t stay either.
‘Then take me.’ She sat fully upright, trying not to sway at the sight of the red IV bag hanging over her. ‘I’m feeling better. They’ve put enough blood in me to tank up a dozen Thirsters.’ She swung her legs off the side of the bed, noticing for the first time she was wearing only an oversized hospital gown. Her legs were bare. In fact - she did a quick check – she was completely naked beneath the gown, bar some fetching paper underwear. Cyrus, she noticed, was staring openly at her legs.
‘I don’t want to stay in here,’ she said, pushing herself off the bed and yanking a handful of wires off her chest. The machine flatlined behind her. ‘They might come looking for me. I mean, I would, if I were one of them. I’d come straight here and finish the job.’
Cyrus shook his head. ‘They won’t.’
She saw the uneasy way he swallowed though and glanced at the door.
‘You don’t know that,’ she said. ‘Were there others? How many did we kill?’
‘A few.’
She paused. ‘It’s too dangerous and I hate hospitals. If you don’t take me I’m going to leave anyway.’
‘I’d like to see you try,’ Cyrus said, his eyebrows raised, but she could see him glancing again between her and the door, as if weighing the options.
‘I will,’ she said, staggering slightly against the side of the bed as she started looking for her clothes. She could only find her shoes, which had been stuffed in the locker beside her bed. She knelt to put them on, feeling the ground rushing up to meet her.
Cyrus looked down at her. ‘OK, OK, I believe you. Man, you’re stubborn. Give me two minutes, OK?’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to break you out of here.’ He pulled off his sweater. It was V-necked, navy, cashmere-soft. ‘Here, put this on,’ he said, throwing it at her.
‘What about your jeans?’ she asked, trying not to smile. It hurt to use too many facial muscles.
‘They won’t fit,’ he answered, grinning. ‘Otherwise they’d be off already. Chivalry, remember? That’s my thing.’
He was out of the door before she could say a word.
She watched his silhouette on the other side of the glass. He seemed to be stopping to talk to the policemen. She held her breath, praying he didn’t get himself arrested. But then the shadows melted and she heard footsteps running off down the corridor. The door yanked open again and Cyrus stuck his head around it, grinning.
‘Come on,’ he said, holding his hand out towards her. ‘It’s clear.’
She pulled the sweater on over her hospital gown. It barely reached the top of her thighs.
‘What did you tell them?’ she asked as Cyrus wrapped his arm around her and started half-carrying her down the corridor.
‘Never mind,’ he whispered, pulling her closer.
Chapter 38
She was going to be OK. Lucas shut his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the ache in his side expand and, instead of dissipating, spread further, taking up residence somewhere even deeper inside him.
He opened his eyes, but he still couldn’t strike the image of Evie lying there, whiter than the sheet they’d shrouded her in, her neck torn open and bandaged up, blood seeping lik
e red moss through the gauze. She was criss-crossed with wires and IV tubes, an oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth. She had looked dead. Only the beeping of the machine and the wheeze of the oxygen pump had convinced him that she was actually alive. And then she’d stirred, her eyes flying open as if she had sensed him in the room.
But even though she’d stared right at him, she’d looked right through him and hadn’t seen him.
For so long Evie had been right there, in the forefront of his mind, a memory he’d fought with every ounce of strength to hold on to and now – now that he’d actually come face to face with her again, had touched her – she’d slipped from his grasp and was gone.
He’d feared it when he’d seen Cyrus gathering her in his arms and running with her towards the street. He hadn’t seen the attack, had been too busy fighting the one in the shorts, then making sure all of the Originals were burning, he had only surmised what had happened from the wound in her neck.
He’d seen the fear he himself was feeling – the agonising wrench of it –written clear on Cyrus’s face. He’d followed them all here to the hospital, had stood motionless in the corridor, frozen with terror, as the doctors worked on her, trying to stem the blood flow. He’d watched and urged Evie to live, though another man was holding her hand and willing it too.
He’d heard Cyrus telling the doctor that he was Evie’s boyfriend. But even then he might not have believed it. Even at that point he’d been fighting the urge to slam Cyrus against the wall and force his way to Evie’s side. But then, in her room, when he’d slipped inside, and his fingers had traced up her cheek, stroked back her hair, she’d called his name. Cyrus’s name. And at that point he finally recognised that he was too late.
For a second time he had failed her. For the second time Cyrus had been the one to save her.
At first Lucas couldn’t believe that the Hunter was alive. How was that even possible? He hadn’t been able to process it during the fight – that the person fighting alongside Flic had been Cyrus, because in his mind Cyrus had been dead. But now, here he was, back from the dead, very much alive – and with Evie.
Of course he was. He’d always wanted her, as if she was a possession he could own, another girl to add to his collection.
Lucas felt frozen cold all of a sudden, as if he was lying back in the Shadowlands, out in the open, far from shelter. A harsh laugh burst out of his chest. What had he expected? That he’d find a way back – back to Evie – and that it would be just as it had been? And how had that been exactly? It wasn’t like what they’d had was what you would term a relationship. He’d been sent to kill her. They were sworn enemies. They’d never been on a date. They’d been running, hiding, fighting. Hardly the kinds of memories to build a relationship on. Yet the two hours they’d spent together, that afternoon that he couldn’t forget, when she’d given herself to him completely and with such trust- when they’d been able to miraculously shut out the whole world and everything in it just through their touch and words alone, wasn’t easy to forget. He could spend a lifetime trying to. But he knew that one act had sealed something in him – his heart belonged to her. His soul too.
He stepped out of the harsh strip lights at the hospital entrance, through the heated noise and chaos of ambulances and paramedics. Was this why Issa had been so vague about Evie? Was this why she’d tried to stop him coming through the gateway? Because she’d seen this? Because she knew that Evie had moved on?
The blood ran cold in his veins. He needed to get out of here. He started walking blindly but then he stopped, his feet frozen to the sidewalk, his eyes fixed on the man who’d just exited through the sliding doors opposite.
It took Lucas more than a few seconds to understand that it really was Victor. That it wasn’t some mirage, that it was in fact the very same man who’d killed his parents and tried and almost succeeded in killing him.
Lucas was half-way across the street, striding to meet him, his blade halfway out of its sheath, when two policemen came storming out of the exit, grabbed hold of Victor by his arms and hauled him back onto the sidewalk.
For a second time Lucas froze, this time in the middle of the street. What were the cops arresting Victor for?
Evie. It had to be Evie. He’d done something to her. What other reason would he be here for?
Lucas started running, flying past Victor and bursting through the crowded emergency bay, pushing past trolleys and doctors and bleeding patients strapped to gurneys. He was sprinting down the corridor to the emergency stairs, his heart pounding in his throat, when the door flew open ahead of him and Evie appeared.
Cyrus was half carrying her. She was wearing his sweater, the arms trailing loosely over her hands. Her legs were bare, her hair hanging lank over her face which was shining with sweat. He flung himself immediately into the shadows behind a door, pressing himself there, breathing heavily. She was OK. She was OK. She was alive.
So what was Victor doing here? And why had the cops stopped him? Had he tried to harm her? Was that why she was, from the looks of it, escaping?
Lucas watched as Cyrus pushed open an emergency exit door at the end of the corridor. Wedging it open with his shoulder he reached down and scooped Evie up into his arms.
The door banged shut behind them.
Lucas stood there, fading in and out, staring at the empty corridor, something crumbling irrevocably inside of him.
Chapter 39
The back of the taxi was dark, the leather seats worn and springy. Evie could feel her heart fluttering in her chest as though it was still learning to beat. She felt woozy all of a sudden, her head still spinning wildly. She brushed the back of her hand against her forehead. It felt clammy, though her legs were coated in goose bumps.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked Cyrus.
‘I know somewhere safe,’ he said, his gaze skirting up her legs. She folded them beneath her self-consciously.
Cyrus sat back as the cab drove off and lifted his arm. She hesitated for a moment, then gave in and leant back against his shoulder, letting him wrap his arm around her. For a second his hand wavered, deciding where to go, before settling tentatively on her shoulder.
He felt warm. She breathed him in, feeling the dizziness subside. Maybe leaving the hospital hadn’t been such a great idea. But then again, being attached to all those machines had felt a little like being bound with pondweed, the oxygen mask over her face as suffocating as ice water.
‘What happened?’ she asked after a few minutes of silence.
Cyrus took a deep breath. She felt the muscles in his shoulder and across his chest tense beneath her cheek.
‘There were four of them,’ Cyrus said in a hushed voice, his eyes locked on the back of the driver’s head.
‘Did we kill them all?’ Evie asked, trying to push herself up so that she could look at him.
Cyrus’s fingers tightened on her shoulder, holding her in place.
‘They’re all dead. Someone – I think maybe Victor – came back and … I don’t know. Flic and I killed one. When we turned around the other two were on fire. But I didn’t hang around to figure it out. I heard you – I mean, I felt you.’
‘You felt me?’
Cyrus hesitated and Evie could feel his heart racing. ‘I told you,’ he whispered into her hair, ‘there’s a connection between us.’
She froze, staring at her fingers lying loosely in her lap.
‘I felt you,’ he repeated. ‘I knew you were in trouble.’
Evie kept her head lowered, unable to look at him for reasons she didn’t fully understand. ‘But the others – what about them? Is everyone alright?’
‘They’re fine,’ he answered quickly.
‘Jamieson? Flic? Ash and Vero? They’re all OK?’
‘Yes. They’re all fine. Jamieson’s broken his arm and a few ribs but he’ll be OK, I think. You came out worst. I warned you not to come after me.’
‘It was those two. Selena and RJ. She followed after you – I
couldn’t just leave her.’ Evie paused, sitting upright. ‘Did she make it?’ she asked, remembering the last she’d seen of Selena was her running helter-skelter across the garden.
‘She’s fine,’ Cyrus answered. His fingers had started tracing circles over her shoulder blade, along her collar bone, almost absently, grazing the bare skin at the nape of her neck and making her draw in a tight breath.
She felt a slight tingle in her belly – a response she wasn’t sure how to interpret. She put it down to the Valium and tried to focus on the words coming out of his mouth and not his touch.
Cyrus suddenly pulled his arm free and leant forward, tapping on the glass separating them from the driver. ‘Can you pull over?’ he asked.
Evie frowned, twisting her head to look out of the window. They were outside Margaret’s store.
‘What are we doing here?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Just wait,’ Cyrus answered, getting out of the cab and walking quickly around to open the door for her. He handed the driver some cash and then offered his hand to Evie to help her out of the cab.
She pushed him away, wanting to stand by herself. His touch was making her stomach churn with unwanted emotions. It made her remember Lucas and how she’d felt with him – namely safe. But she didn’t want to feel that way with Cyrus. Or with anyone. Safety led to complacency.
Cyrus shrugged and turned away but she noticed a shadow of hurt flit across his face.
‘You remembered your ATM number then?’ she asked, as he pushed his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.
‘No, I just swiped some money from my mum earlier,’ he said. ‘We needed a change of clothes. Looks like you could have used the shopping trip as well.’
Evie smiled ruefully. It was true; she had nothing to wear other than a hospital gown, some paper underwear and a borrowed sweater.
Cyrus fished some keys out of his pocket and unlocked the front door of the store, opening it to let her through. She passed ahead of him into the darkened space. What time was it? It had to be around midnight she guessed. She’d been in the hospital a while, but it was all a fog.
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