by Kristin Cast
By the time he finished dressing, the red-haired woman was gone. It was for the best. Aiden didn’t need anything else dangerous and interesting in his life.
IX
Elodie swiped her cuff under the scanner next to the glass-top control panel. The Key’s red logo swirled to life on both the panel and the holographic screen.
To health. To life. To the future. We are the Key.
“Welcome back, Elodie.”
For the first time since she’d arrived at the MediCenter, Elodie felt at ease. Monitoring patients, making sure their needs were met, discharging patients and preparing for new patients to arrive, this is what she was good at—even when Gus left her with vague and incomplete new patient information. It also didn’t hurt that this version of Holly was the one Elodie was most comfortable with. Helper Holly, or at least that’s how she thought of the disembodied Holly voice, who stayed at the MediCenter and served as Elodie’s nursing assistant.
Careful not to press unnecessarily on the expansive control panel, Elodie rested her forearms on the desk and studied the holoscreen as it scrolled through each patient’s information. Bots beeped and hummed mechanically as they passed through the shield of violet light staining each patient’s doorway, which protected those outside from any deadly microbes that might try to escape.
Everything looked normal. The Long-Term Care Unit physician had come through earlier and hadn’t marked any patients as contagious, including the new one. No doses needed to be changed. No one else was being transferred out or in. Since Gus had left her with zero specifics about the new patient, Elodie double tapped on her chart to review it more closely. Patient Ninety-Two’s health information was as normal as Elodie’s other patients, steady rhythms, no present contagions, nothing out of the ordinary.
Elodie dropped her chin into her palms. It shouldn’t be disappointing. Everyone was healthy. And she really had had enough excitement for one day.
Lights reflecting off the cover of her textbook drew her attention. She should probably hurry and finish reading the second book in the series so she could move on to the third book, then the fourth, and the fifth. After she finished, she’d be able to turn them over to the Library or incinerate them herself.
She warmed as she thought about how many more adventures she and Vi had left. But Astrid was right. Elodie’s stomach squeezed. She could end up getting in trouble for something as stupid as reading unsanctioned fiction.
If the Key did find out, how bad would the punishment actually be? It was only reading, and reading never hurt anybody. Now, what would be painful was not knowing how Vi’s story ended. It would make Elodie distracted and angsty, and all of that negative energy would spill into her work and her social life. Not finishing the series would be more harmful than keeping the books for a little while longer.
Excitement flapped in her chest as she turned to the dog-
eared page.
Vi’s heartbeat ticked up a notch as the wire dug into her custom leather gloves. The pressure made her jaw slacken and fire spark to life deep within her belly.
Vi enjoyed killing. Not in the way someone enjoyed a vacation or a free day off work. That enjoyment was a pacification—a scab protecting the world from what would happen if freedom really meant a person was free.
And Violet Jasmine Royale had let herself loose.
But what Vi liked more than the kill, what she craved more than a tall glass of double malt and a thick cigar, was the moment after. The brief second of swollen silence stretched thick and hard between her and her victim.
Vi’s lip twitched with a sneer.
Victim. Yeah, right.
The word implied that Johnny Diamoto had been worth saving. It implied that he was innocent, and Johnny Diamoto was far from innocent. He was a liar. They all were.
Johnny’s lies had attached to his soul and fed from any goodness in him like a leach, getting fat and bloated, infecting him with darkness. They had poisoned him and now, Johnny Diamoto was as healthy as the lies he told.
The cavern the garrote had carved into Johnny’s neck squelched as Vi pulled the wire free. It hung from her fingertips as she, breathless and satisfied, strode into the Honeymoon Suite’s luxurious bathroom. She ignored her reflection as she made her way to the marble double sinks. There was no reason to look at herself when she really wasn’t herself at all. Johnny had liked them blond haired, blue eyed, and beach-bum tan. Violet wasn’t any of those things.
She stole a glance in the mirror as she rinsed the garotte and peeled off her gloves. She’d been made over so many times, costumed as so many different people, that she had trouble remembering exactly what she’d looked like before. Again, she averted her eyes and busied herself with drying her things. There was no use in thinking about what she looked like. Tomorrow, she’d report into the office as this tan blond and leave as someone else. It was a fair price for getting to do what she loved, and for getting revenge.
Vi tucked her most prized possessions into her overnight bag before she checked the time. The cleanup crew wouldn’t arrive for another hour. The corners of her lips curled into a grin as she eyed the jetted jacuzzi tub. After the night she’d had, she deserved a soak.
Water surged from the faucet as Vi turned the knob to hot. She squirted in a glob of complimentary bubble bath and watched the water foam as she kicked off her stilettos and wiggled out of Johnny’s favorite lacy negligee. She turned on the jets and sank into the steaming water, closing her eyes as the bubbles puffed up around her. There really was peace in death. Hopefully, this time, it would last until she got home.
Block letters formed at the edge of Elodie’s vision and snapped her from Vi’s fantasy to her mundane reality.
Incoming call from Rhett Owens.
Elodie groaned.
With how often she was interrupted, she might end up keeping Death by Violet forever.
Elodie pressed her back into the chair’s hard frame as if to distance herself from the message scrolling past her vision. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to her fiancé. After all, they were in a stage that Astrid kept referring to as romancia-landia. Or maybe it was a place? Elodie wasn’t quite sure. What she was sure of was that she and Rhett had definitely never even passed through romancia-landia.
Choosing at the last moment to forego the video portion of the call, Elodie activated her comlink. “Rhett, hi. I’m at wo—”
“I want to assure you that there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Rhett’s tenor voice was smooth and clear in her ears. “I’m sure you saw Ms. Scott’s situation update, but I know how sensitive you are and that you would still be shaken up.”
Elodie’s brow furrowed. “I’m not overly sensitive, I—”
“I didn’t say overly, El. But you are a woman.”
Elodie’s mouth went dry, her tongue a hard lump of sand behind her teeth. Rhett wasn’t wrong. She was a woman. But the way he’d said it was a slap, not a statement.
Rhett cleared his throat and continued. “Everything is being taken care of. My team and I were the first called out to Tilikum Crossing. It’s fine now.” His voice was curt. His words clipped, like he was presenting a briefing, not talking to the woman he would marry in a few months.
Elodie stared at Patient Ninety-Two’s steadily blinking heartrate monitor. “That adds to my relief, but I am still really worried about all of those—”
“Grant Holbrook, the Director of the MediCenter, which means he’s pretty much Director of the Key itself, called me up to request that I gather my team and head to the site post haste.”
Post haste? Was Elodie really going to spend the rest of her life with a guy who said post haste ? She opened her mouth to comment but Rhett continued as if she wasn’t on the other end of the call.
“At least, that’s what he would have said if I had spoken to him directly. It was one of his assistants or some
one, but I’m sure I’m the only person you know who gets calls like that.”
Elodie squirmed in her chair. Her back itched in a place she couldn’t quite reach.
Rhett grunted. “No one ever gets a call like that.” He reiterated with a bit more gusto. “I mean, you haven’t heard of anyone who has, have you?”
“Yeah. Yep.” Elodie rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes, glad he couldn’t see her. “Wait. No, sorry. I haven’t heard of that before.” She picked at the dog-eared corner of her textbook. “Rhett, I’m actually really busy, so—”
“I’ll get those Eos lunatics, El. I promise you I will.”
“Oh,” she bit her bottom lip. “You don’t have to do it for me.”
“Of course I do,” he said, his voice softening a bit. “I want you to be safe. I want our family to be safe. In order for that to happen, Eos must be dealt with. There are things I know about Eos, Elodie.”
She dropped her forehead into her hand. What was wrong with her? Rhett was great. He’d do anything to protect her. The Key had matched them, had chosen her for him, for a reason. And she had fallen in love with him. Or at least something very close to love. They might not currently be in romancia-landia, but Elodie would help them find their way there. “Hey, Rhett, want to move our date night up? Or maybe even add another night to the schedule?”
Or blow the schedule up completely and be utterly spontaneous?
On second thought, it was probably best to ease him in slowly.
Rhett paused for so long that Elodie would have thought he’d ended the call if not for the Connected signal blinking at the bottom of her vision.
Finally, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head automatically. “No. I just want to see you.”
There was a rustling on his end of the call before he spoke again. “Activate your camera and we can see each other right now.”
Elodie took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and activated the videolink. The transparent gray box appeared, and Rhett came into view.
“See, that’s nice, isn’t it?” The shadows cast by Rhett’s black helmet made his prominent brow even more menacing.
Elodie sat up a little straighter and made sure to keep her smile in place. “I meant I want to see you in a fun date setting. Not while we’re both working.”
His amber eyes deepened with a squint. “You said you didn’t like it when I called you with my squad around, so I found a booth. I’m alone. My attention is on you. How is this different than date night?”
Elodie’s smile slipped.
Rhett’s brow creased. “I’m trying to do everything you want, El.”
“Yeah, no, you’re right.” She remade her smile. “I did say that I wanted you to call me when you could focus on our conversation and not be pulled in all different directions. So, thank you for that.”
The corner of his smooth lips tipped with a crooked grin and he nodded. “Anything for you.”
Elodie’s eyes dropped to the control panel. Why couldn’t she feel the way she was supposed to?
“Is your shirt wet?”
Elodie snapped her attention back to him as she ran her hand across her chest. “I don’t think—”
“Your shoulders.” He stabbed the air with his index finger. “How did your shoulders get wet? It didn’t rain this morning.”
“Oh.” She smoothed her fingers over her still damp waves. “I washed my hair. It was before this horrible nursing lesson and—”
Rhett’s wide nose wrinkled in disgust. “Why?”
She hiked her shoulders. “Hygiene? But I should have waited until after my lesson. It was terrible. I’m studying—”
From the monitor for the patient rooms, a wet cough scraped over the hum and clank of the bots and the repetitive beeping of the control panel, and crashed into Elodie.
Rhett’s eyes widened, his golden irises completely visible. “What was that?”
Elodie stilled, straining to hear past the beeps and the whirs and Rhett’s thick tenor.
Another cough struck out. Elodie flinched. Her breath released in tiny hiccups as she flicked her gaze to the patient rooms.
Rhett leaned forward. “Is someone cou—”
It was Elodie’s turn to interrupt. “I have to go.” The vidlink box emptied to gray before clearing from her vision.
She could barely breathe as she slid to the edge of her seat and waited. Nothing. She blew out a puff of air and collapsed against the unforgiving plastic. Of course it was nothing. Some bot probably got tripped up on something and—
Cough.
Elodie’s skin frosted, goosebumps springing to life across her arms. That was a cough. Undeniably so. Was a patient moving? Was a patient awake? She pulled up the live feed in each of the patient rooms.
Still.
Still.
Still.
Still.
Moving.
Elodie’s heart beat against her chest. “Holly, show me information for the new patient.”
“Sure thing.” The detailed chart appeared on screen the moment Holly responded.
Elodie read it aloud. “Patient Ninety-Two, Aubrey Masters, age eight.” She gripped the edge of her seat as she quickly looked over the first page of the chart. “It says that she’s been in the MediCenter since she was four. What was the original reason for admission?”
“I’m sorry, Elodie, but you do not have clearance to access this information.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Elodie chewed the inside of her cheek and drummed her fingers against the smooth edge of the control panel. “Holly, I’m Lead Nurse for this shift. I have clearance to access any information about any of my patients. Why was patient Ninety-Two admitted to the MediCenter four years ago?”
“You do not have clearance to access this information.”
Cough.
Elodie read through the patient info, swiping each useless page off screen until there was nothing left except the live feed. “This has nothing in it. It’s all useless, generic.”
Cough.
“Holly, if you won’t tell me why she was admitted, give me a detailed health report. Nothing I have means anything. The physician was in earlier today. She must have uploaded something.”
“I have it right here.” Again Holly brought up Patient Ninety-Two’s records. This time, she’d highlighted the physician’s note. “Quote: Patient Ninety-Two is currently in healthy, stable condition. End quote.”
Cough.
“Yes, I can see that.” Elodie pointed to the holographic image and the column of green checkmarks lining the patient’s health assessment. She boosted the levels for Patient Ninety-Two’s monitor. “You’re literally showing me that information right now. But healthy, stable patients don’t end up in the Long-Term Care Unit.”
Haggard coughs echoed from Aubrey’s room, and Elodie winced at the labored breathing that followed. “They also don’t cough like that, and I know you can hear her. You hear everything. That’s not in line with healthy New American standards.”
Cough.
“Patients like that belong in the Quarantine Unit, not my LTCU. There is something wrong with her, and I need access to more than these surface files so I know what to administer. Show me something I don’t already have.”
“Error.” Holly honked.
“You can’t simply say error. What kind of error?”
“Error.” Holly repeated.
Another bout of wet coughs erupted from Aubrey’s monitor. “Momma?” She wheezed weakly, the steady beeping of her heartrate monitor spiking.
Elodie’s stomach churned and her heart slammed within her chest. Her patients didn’t speak or cough or wheeze. Except for the monotonous robotic beeping, her unit was silent. Always silent. That’s what she expected.
That’s what she liked.
“Holly,” Elodie whispered. “Increase sedation to Patient Ninety-Two by two units.”
“Unable to comply. Sedation pumps are empty.”
“Dammit, Gus,” she hissed. “You said you’d refilled all of the patient pumps! Holly, flag Aubrey for immediate transfer. How long until a maintenance bot is able to refill her sedation meds?”
There was a pause while Holly calculated. “I’ve submitted the patient transfer request, and a maintenance bot will be available to refill the sedation pumps in forty-seven minutes.”
“It hurts,” Aubrey choked through tiny sobs.
Cold sweat sprang up on Elodie’s brow. She was back in lesson fifteen. Back with the little girl screaming for her mother. Back with the virus as it painted bloody prints across the girl’s small cheeks and turned her pores into gateways for its escape.
Elodie could barely swallow past the knot in her throat. “We don’t have forty-seven minutes. This is an emergency. Override whatever else the bots are working on and send one to the basement to refill the tubes. Now.”
“I’m sorry, Elodie. There are eight work orders before yours, and it’s not within my abilities to override them. The maintenance bot will arrive at the medi-pump lab in forty-six minutes.”
“Mommy?” Aubrey’s pained plea squeezed Elodie’s heart.
“Dammit!” Elodie’s knuckles whitened as she pressed her fists against the desk. “Holly, find the MediCenter’s schematics and upload the map to my vidlink.”
Aubrey’s coughing continued, wet and painful.
Elodie’s hands trembled as she hurried from the command station toward the elevator.
“Schematic uploaded to your vidlink. Do you need my assistance in locating an area?”
“The medi-pump lab.” Elodie held her wrist up to the scanner, and gulped in air, trying to calm her frayed nerves and speeding pulse while the little girl’s coughs echoed behind her. Her cuff flashed green and the elevator yawned open. The metal box threw distorted images of her through the open space. In some reflections she was tall, others short, wide, or thin, but in each one fear stretched her round eyes wide.
