by Kingsolver
After I spent a pain-filled and sleepless night, Trevor stuck his head in the door of my hospital room around sunrise.
“Gods, am I glad to see you,” I said.
He slipped into the room with Lizzy and Roisin trailing behind him.
Lizzy came to the head of the bed, grinned, and said, “Open wide.”
I opened my mouth, and she popped a ball of something in my mouth. I sucked on it and felt the pain diminish almost immediately. At the other end of the bed, Roisin lifted the covers and inspected my foot.
After about five minutes of poking and prodding, she walked up to where I could see her and asked, “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“No. She just stomped on my foot.”
“A vampire?”
“A dhampir.”
Roisin nodded. She placed a hand on my forehead and slid her other hand under the hospital gown and placed it above my heart. Appearing satisfied, she went back to my foot and took it in both of her tiny hands.
The jolt of magic was unlike anything I had ever felt in my life. I had been treated by healers before, but they were using either mage or witch magic. The magic of the Fae was so different as to feel alien. The pain faded, and the pulsing, swollen feeling in my foot faded along with it.
I felt Roisin’s hands on my head and chest again, so I opened my eyes and found her staring at me. Her eyes were about twice the size of a human’s and seemed huge in her small face.
“You must stay off it for a week,” she said. “No walking, no jumping, no running, no being stupid. No weight at all. You must give it time to heal. Promise me.”
“I promise, and th—.” I remembered almost too late that the Fae did not like the words ‘thank you.’ They considered it extremely rude.
She gave me a crooked grin. “I shudder to think what these charlatans would have done to you.” Her smile softened. “Trevor tells me that you did a good thing. It’s a start.”
With a pat on my head, she turned and headed for the door. Lizzy bent down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then followed her.
“Are you going, too?” I asked Trevor.
“Nope. I’m going to stay.”
I closed my eyes.
CHAPTER 19
The doctors weren’t happy when I checked myself out of the hospital, telling me that if they didn’t fix my foot, I would be crippled for life. But one thing I didn’t want them doing was taking another x-ray and seeing the bones magically restored. I did accept a pair of crutches from them, even though I cringed as they added them to my bill.
I managed to escape without paying said bill, but I knew they would find me and take all the money Frankie had promised to pay me.
Trevor drove me to Rosie’s, where I would convalesce in Sam’s apartment. I wasn’t sure how that was going to work with the crutches, but at least that was only one flight of stairs. It would be four flights at my apartment, not to mention how would I eat?
“So, what happened after I checked out the other night?” I asked Trevor after I managed to get myself and my crutches into his car. “Did you catch Gardner?”
“Nope. We lost her. The tracker you planted worked fine, but she didn’t take a car. Instead, she headed for the river on foot. We tracked her, but we weren’t able to follow her. She was too damned fast. She doubled back around the cops’ road block, crossed the bridge, got picked up by someone in a car, and went to ground somewhere downtown.”
“What do you mean, ‘went to ground’?”
“The tracker abruptly stopped working. Whether someone negated the spell, or destroyed it, or she went someplace that was warded, Jolene said she can’t tell. We do know where she was when the tracker went dead.” He glanced over at me, then said, “Well, within about a six-block area. We were too far away at the time to pinpoint it closer than that.”
“Considering that she was working with a bunch of mages, that doesn’t completely surprise me,” I said. “I’m sure they aren’t happy with her, though.” I looked down at my foot. “She’s going to need a healer. I don’t care if dhampir heal faster than ordinary humans, that arm isn’t going to heal right on its own, and I’ll bet it’s painful as hell.”
“She left a hell of a lot of money when she ran,” Trevor said. “Her backers can’t be very happy about that. As to the arm, that’s easier to fix than having six or eight breaks like your foot.”
Josh was waiting for us when we got to Rosie’s. He and I had a problematic relationship, but he had acted a lot nicer since I got nasty about him grabbing my ass. He was Jolene’s brother and Trevor’s best friend, so we tried to get along with each other. He had also cut down on his drinking, which helped.
As I crawled out of the car, he stepped forward and swept me off my feet. Caught off guard, I wrapped my arms around his neck and found his grin less than a foot from my face. Josh was a big boy—over six feet tall and muscled from weight lifting and working in a nursery.
“I knew you’d fall into my arms someday,” he smirked. “Trev, grab the crutches and open the door.”
“Put me down!”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
He carried me into Rosie’s, across the main dining room, behind the bar, and up the stairs to Sam’s apartment, Trevor leading the way and opening doors for us.
When we got to the apartment, Josh asked, “Bed or sofa?”
“Sofa, you big oaf. I’m not getting anywhere near a bed with you around.”
“Aw, I’ll bet you say that to all the boys.” He grinned and winked at me, then deposited me on the sofa.
I had to laugh. “All but one.”
“Yeah, and he’s a fool,” Josh said, pointedly looking at Trevor.
Trevor set my crutches next to me, then went downstairs and brought me back a full Irish breakfast, handed me the TV remote, and kissed me on the forehead.
“Gotta go move the car, and we’ve got a meeting with Frankie and Blair at noon. I’ll stop by later to see how you’re doing. And no weight on that foot, right?”
After two days and a night of lying around the apartment and learning that I wasn’t missing anything by not owning a TV, I was going stir crazy. There were only so many push-ups, sit-ups, and other exercises I could do without putting weight on my foot. I was used to a run almost every morning, and that was out.
Jolene brought me some books, but I normally read for an hour before going to bed, and spending all day just sitting got old fast.
George Flynn called me one day, ostensibly concerned about my health. I still wasn’t used to having a phone, and the ringing startled me. I had learned how to save a contact, and not many people knew the number, so I was puzzled when no one’s name flashed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Erin. This is George Flynn. How are you doing? The foot healing up okay?”
“Uh, yes. It’s fine.” My understanding was that my visit to the hospital was confidential, both for patient privacy reasons and because the DA had slapped an ‘ongoing investigation’ notice on my records.
“How did you know about my foot?” I asked.
Flynn chuckled. “I have my sources. Shall we say that I have a particular interest in hospitals, blood banks, and you know, that sort of thing.”
In other words, he either had paid informants or actual thralls inside. That he had my phone number spoke to him having information sources in other places as well.
“I have heard an interesting rumor and have been wondering if you had any information that might clarify things for me,” Flynn continued. “A little bird whispered that a dhampir is seeking Rodrick’s head. Of course, Rodrick uses it so little that it wouldn’t be a tragic loss.”
“I’m sure you know far more than me about the news in vampireland,” I said.
“Vampireland? Oh, I like that. Perhaps I should build a theme park next to The Devil’s Den.”
“You should probably talk to your old girlfriends more often,” I said. “You know that Gallagher’s dha
mpir wouldn’t automatically owe fealty to Barclay.”
A moment of silence, then, “That is true. I’m sure she isn’t feeling particularly fond of dear Rodrick. I also heard a rumor that another dhampir was responsible for the recent carnage here in the city and that you had met her.”
“You know how rumors are,” I said. “You can’t rely on them. Even if they have a kernel of truth, they get so distorted in the re-telling.”
“Assuming that there is such a kernel, how would I know if I met her?”
“How long does it take a dhampir to heal a broken humerus?” I asked.
“Right or left?”
“Oh, let’s say the right arm for a left-handed person with red hair.”
“Yes, the red hair would probably hinder the healing process.” I could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice. “A couple of weeks before she could use the arm at all, I should imagine, assuming proper medical care. They heal fast, but such an injury is rather significant.”
“Is there anything else?” I asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any major assaults planned on Carleton House, would you? I would hate to be visiting and get caught in the crossfire.”
“Not at the moment, but you might ask your shifter friends. Their information might be more current. Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. I’ll have to stop by for a spot of Macallan sometime when things are less hectic. It’s always a pleasure, Miss McLane.”
“Yes, I do enjoy our little chats,” I said.
He hung up, and I stared at the phone. Shifters attacking vampires?
I always enjoyed bantering with Flynn. Not for the first time, I wondered if he would survive the current upheaval in Westport’s vampire community. A few weeks before, I would have bet he came out on top. I wasn’t so sure anymore, and I didn’t think he was quite as confident, either. Gallagher’s death at Rodrick Barclay’s hand had changed the balance of power.
On Saturday evening, I managed to make it down the stairs without killing myself. Jenny put me at a table out of the main traffic patterns, with a pillow on a chair for my foot. My friends showed up, I ate dinner, and it felt like I’d been let out of prison.
The gossip had spread about our work on taking down the bounty hunters, and the regulars stopped by our table all evening to ask how I was doing, buy me a drink, and leave some gossip of their own.
The bar was hopping. A four-piece traditional Irish group had set up in one corner and had everyone bouncing to their music. Occasional cheers came from the people in the back room who were watching a basketball game on the big screen.
A pair of shifters was shooting pool with a pair of witches. The shifters looked like they were hoping to get lucky, but I could have told them those two witches always went home with each other.
A small crowd gathered around the other pool table, where two aeromancers were playing eight-ball without using cue sticks.
Blair showed up about ten, looked around the room, then spotted us. He made his way across the room, and Josh grabbed an unused chair from the table next to us.
“How are you doing?” Blair asked.
“Fine,” I said, “but if people don’t quit buying me drinks, I’m going to be hammered pretty soon.”
“How’s the foot? The doctors were quite upset that you didn’t stay in the hospital.”
I smiled. “Foot’s fine but itches like crazy.”
He frowned. “Itches?”
“Yeah, inside, where the bones are healing. I’ve never had bones itch before. It’s really weird.” Lizzy had explained to me that her mom turned all the bones in my foot to liquid, lined everything up the way it was supposed to be, then let the bones harden. But for them to completely finish ossifying and strengthen took about a week.
Blair obviously didn’t understand but didn’t ask anything else. He pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket and handed it to me. Inside was a check for twenty thousand dollars from Franklin K. Jones.
I must have looked puzzled, because Blair said, “That’s from Frankie’s father.”
“Great. At least I can pay my hospital bill.”
Blair shook his head. “The DA’s office took care of that. You’re free and clear.”
Trevor leaned over to look at the check, then grinned.
“But, have we finished the job?” I asked.
Jenny came over to the table and asked Blair what he wanted to drink. He ordered a beer and then turned back to me.
“It’s done,” he said. “The ledger books and the bank transactions nailed down who was running the operation. Franklin and his friends had a meeting with the people funding the bounties, and there won’t be any more of that garbage going on in Westport.”
He paused while Jenny set his beer down and took his money, then he took a deep drink.
“We’ve rounded up most of the bounty hunters,” he continued, “and they’re being shipped off to Canada and Greenland, so we don’t have to worry about them.”
“But you still haven’t caught Gardner,” Jolene said.
“No, but unless she sticks her nose out in public, I don’t expect we will,” Blair said. “She’ll probably find another city where things aren’t as hot. But Franklin has sent word to contacts of his around the country, so the various paranormal councils are aware of her.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard the term ‘paranormal council’,” I said. “What are these councils?”
“Well, I didn’t know about them myself until recently,” Blair said. “They informally oversee the activities of paranormals and supernaturals, and communicate with similar organizations across the world. The one here in Westport is called the Columbia Club.” He grinned at Trevor and me. “Normally, they are very secretive, and very few people even know they exist. Frankie didn’t even know until you prompted her to asking questions, and her dad had to tell her in order to shut her up.”
I thought back to William Strickland and his private gentlemen’s club, all of whom I assassinated, and wondered how many of those groups the Illuminati had targeted. The amount of damage I had done in my short life was going to require a lot more good deeds than just shutting down Gardner’s operation for me to feel that I was making any progress toward redeeming myself.
“You okay? Your foot bothering you?” Lizzy asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You just looked really sad for a moment.”
I turned to look at my friend, a seer who Saw so much more than other people. “Just a thought about the past. What I was before I met you.” She had been the first person who reached out to me to offer friendship. It had taken me completely by surprise.
Her eyes kind of teared up a bit, and she leaned forward and hugged me.
True to my prediction, I ended up getting drunk as a lord. Josh wasn’t much better, so I didn’t trust him to carry me upstairs. But Emily used her aeromancy to float me up the stairs and into bed. That was the second-weirdest thing that happened to me that week, and that wasn’t even counting someone handing me a twenty-thousand-dollar check.
CHAPTER 20
The morning my convalescence ended, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly put my foot on the floor. Nothing hurt or felt unstable, so I stood up. The foot felt fine. The maddening itching had finally ended the previous day.
My confidence increased as I walked to the bathroom and took a shower, then dressed and cautiously navigated the stairs to the dining room below. Other than my uncertainty, everything felt normal.
After breakfast, I walked to my apartment, luxuriating in being outside, even though the day was cold and cloudy, threatening rain. That wasn’t unusual—it rained most days as we approached winter.
With my wards in place, the apartment was just the way I had left it. I sat in the living room for a while, then went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed. I think I just wanted to reassure myself that it was still mine. I stashed my weapons and Constance Gardner’s money in the spelled box in the closet.
It felt weird carrying the sword around. Quite a change for a girl who once considered ‘properly dressed’ to include a three-foot sword strapped to her back.
Franklin Jones’s check had cleared and I had paid off the Mouseketeers. I dropped by the apartment office and paid my next month’s rent, then took the bus and went shopping. I bought a few clothes, a drip coffee maker, and a cookbook. I was determined to learn to cook. I also picked up four framed pictures. Nothing expensive—four pictures for eighty-five dollars. I assumed that since they had multiple copies of each, the same artwork adorned many college dorm rooms, but I liked them. After hauling my loot back to the apartment, I realized that I didn’t have any nails or hooks to hang the pictures, and even if I did, I didn’t have a hammer. I took the cookbook and walked back to Rosie’s.
That evening was my first day back at work after two weeks off. A feeling of familiarity soon settled over me as I poured beers and fixed drinks.
Late in the dinner hour, Charlie Watson, a werewolf biker, came into the bar. I caught his attention and waved him over.
“Hi, Erin. What’s up?”
“Charlie, I heard a rumor that some shifters are planning a raid on the vampires. Have you heard anything about that?”
His body stiffened, as did his face, and he looked distinctly uncomfortable.
“That’s kind of a wild rumor,” he said.
“Yeah, I thought so, too. I know there were some vampires going around harassing shifters. I saw it happen one night when I was going home after work. Is that still happening?”
He looked around, then leaned forward with his elbows on the bar. “Yeah, it’s still happening. Not as much lately. Both the vamps and my folks are sticking close to home. But with the bounty hunters gone, everyone will start getting out a little more. Look, why are you asking?”
“Well, if I heard about it, then you can bet other people have, too. I don’t get out much, you know. Nothing like spending a lot of time planning a big operation only to walk into an ambush.”
