But I take it to her anyhow. It can only eat ghosts, I remind myself, but that’s not very reassuring. It could easily eat me, and there’s no guarantee Saintly won’t be a ghost soon, too, at the rate we’re going. She might take one look at the monster and die of fright.
Luckily, she doesn’t have to see it yet. She’s still asleep, and even when she wakes, she won’t be able to see us until the medicine wears off.
“Wake her!” the monster growls impatiently.
“I can’t,’ I say. “We have to wait.”
The monster rumbles, but what can we do? It skulks into the corner and crouches there, its bright eyes locked on Saintly. My instinct is to get as far from it as possible, but instead I position myself between it and her, at the foot of Saintly’s bed. I was afraid the very presence of the monster might wake her—or at least give her nightmares—but she sleeps deeply. She looks surprisingly peaceful. I watch her breath rise and fall and I’m suddenly aware of how tired I am. How long has it been since I faded out? I can feel my essence dissipating, bits of me rolling away like grains of sand sucked by the tide. I’d like to let them go. Even more than that, I’d like to crawl into bed with Saintly, curl myself around her like a parenthesis around a secret and rest. Funny how folks say they’re going to “sleep like the dead” when it’s the living that know how to sleep.
But of course I can’t rest. I can’t let down my guard at all, not as long as the monster is watching us with its vigilant, hungry gaze. I pull myself up straight. Concentrate, Jess. What if I pull one of my disappearing tricks and lose time completely? What happens then?
The day passes painfully slowly. Doctors and nurses come and go, but they let Saintly sleep. It won’t do us any good to try to wake her, either; Until her medicine has worn off, she won’t be able to see us. There’s no clock in the room, and no window, but I’m sure it must be evening. Each minute seems to crawl, but at the same time, I feel like they’re going too fast, knowing that each one brings us closer to midnight. We’re running out of time.
Finally, Saintly stirs.
I step in front of her, not wanting the monster to be the first thing she sees, but I need not have worried. The full effect of the medicine hasn’t worn off, and she can’t see either of us yet. “Jesse?” she whispers. It’s cool to know I’m the first thing she thought of when she woke but disconcerting to watch her stare right through me. It makes me panic a little. What if Saintly doesn’t get her second sight back? I mean, I know she will, but what if she didn’t? The thought of being able to see her and hear her but never speak to her again is like torture.
“You lied,” the monster hisses. “She can’t see us.” It stalks toward me, its oily blackness oozing in all directions.
“She can! The meds just have to wear off!” I hold up my hands like I could fend the monster off, but I know I can’t. Its thin lips are pulled back from its jagged teeth in a snarl. A dark tendril reaches out to snag my leg, but I dodge.
Saintly props herself up on her pillow, staring straight at us, unable to see a thing.
“Saintly,” I say, “Can you hear me? I need you to say you can hear me!”
The monster’s tentacle twists around my ankle and tugs. My feet go out from under me and I fall, pulling the monster down with me. Its flank slams into the metal cart beside the bed with a crash.
Chapter 28
Saintly
“Jesse?” I sit bolt upright, my head spinning. “Is that you?” It has to be, I tell myself. It has to be because if it isn’t…
There’s another thump as something invisible hits the foot of my bed and I jump as the whole bed shudders. I strain to see something, anything, but there’s nothing to be seen. I listen on high alert, but the only sound is the nurse’s cart trundling down the hall. The nurse must be on her way here with meds, no doubt. Meds that will knock me out with God-knows-what in my room.
I wish I could go back to sleep. I’m still so tired! It would feel good just to stop treading water like this and let my head sink back under the surface of consciousness. My brain feels cocooned in spider silk. Dev and Delia seem so far away. Do we even stand a chance at saving Delia? Dev has been at this for centuries, and he has probably beaten girls much stronger and smarter than we are. What makes us think we can win?
“Saintly!”
The voice sounds so far away, at first I’m not sure I heard it at all. Then it comes again. “Saintly, listen!”
“Jesse!” I cast helplessly around the room, but I still can’t see her. My hearing must have come back before my vision. But at least I know it’s Jesse I heard earlier. Relief washes through me.
Then I hear something else: labored, wet breathing. It sounds like something big. “What is it?” I whisper. “What else is in here?”
“Quiet.” Jesse’s voice sounds muffled. “Don’t scream when you see us or they’ll hear you and come knock you out. We need you awake.”
“We”? “Scream”? I’m starting to freak. There’s a feeling in the room that is all too familiar, a sucking cold. “Where are you?” I whisper fiercely, desperately trying to orient to her voice. “Say something!”
There’s a muffled choking sound from Jesse and a deep, rumbling growl.
I’m up and out of bed, my still-sedated body swaying as my feet hit the linoleum. I snatch up the only thing in the room that isn’t bolted down—a lamp from the bedside table—and hold it at the ready, but I don’t know where to hit. “Say something!”
“Go—” Jesse starts, but she’s cut off by a fit of coughing. I can hear where it’s coming from now. Jesse is in the corner and there’s something there with her. But how can I hit it if I can’t see it? How can I keep from hitting her? That is, if the lamp doesn’t go right through them both?
Jesse must do something to whatever it is, because it gives a yelp of fury. I swing the lamp. It doesn’t connect with anything, but for a split second I see a flash of Jesse. She’s pinned, struggling, against the floor and there’s something on top of her. Something bulky and black.
The monster.
I recoil in spite of myself, my blood like ice. I want to run but there’s nowhere to go, and I can’t leave Jesse. The monster could be killing her right now. Killing her for good this time.
“Get off!” I swing the lamp again. This time it connects, bouncing off something solid as I get another flash, long enough to see that the thing’s big, liquid eyes are now turned on me—and that Jesse’s eyes are drooping closed.
“Go into the light!” I whisper as loud as I dare. I’m terrified to open the portal, terrified Jesse will somehow be sucked through with the monster, but what else can I do? If I don’t, the monster will eat her. “Lux vos liberabit!”
I can feel the air around us start to shift. It’s charged, electric, like the air before a storm. The space above me swirls and I know the hole is about to open like a giant eye.
“Stop,” Jesse croaks, “Not yet. We need its help to escape.”
Its help? What makes her think the monster will help us?
But as my sight returns I can see that the monster has dropped her and is backing away from her fast. “Don’t close it!” it hisses. “Send me!”
My concentration has been broken. The portal is already shrinking, the air going still. The monster makes a strangled noise of frustration, swiping at the air above us like it could open the portal with its tentacles.
Jesse is in a fit of coughing. “Not yet,” she manages. “After you help us.”
The monster is looking at me differently now. It’s wary, reverent. It nods its big head. “I’ll help you.”
And not a second too soon. There’s a sharp rap on the door next to mine. I hear it open and the sound of muffled voices as the nurse lets herself in. “She’ll come to me next!” I whisper, panic rising in my chest. “What if they want to give me more meds? What time is it?”
“It’s too late.” Jesse pulls herself back to her feet. “You’ve been out all day. It’s already getti
ng late. We have to go now, before the nurse gets here.”
I shake my head desperately. “The door locks electronically. There’s an alarm. You can get out, but I can’t.”
“Not a problem.” The monster plunges its arm into the wall beside the door. It passes right through the plaster. There’s a sizzling sound and the lighted monitor beside the door winks out. The monster gestures to the door, smiling at me. “After you.”
“No,” Jesse says, “I’ll check for the nurse first.” She disappears through the door, then reappears moments later. “She’s still in the room next door. There are three more nurses at the station by the entrance, though.”
The monster’s smile widens. “I will handle them.”
I don’t know what that means—and I’m not sure I want to know. Besides, there’s no time to ask. Cautiously, I turn the knob, easing the door open just a crack, my whole body tensed, expecting the alarm to sound.
It doesn’t. I let out my breath and slip silently into the hall.
The ward is quiet. Light leaks out from under the door next to mine, and I can hear the muffled voices of the nurse and the patient inside.
“Go!” Jesse whispers.
“I will distract them,” the monster says. “Just get around the corner and wait until they’re gone.”
“But what are you going to—”
“Go!”
We go, the monster flowing down the hall like dark lava, Jesse and I following behind. She stays ahead of me, walking silently in the center of the hall to keep a lookout, while I follow behind, pressed against the wall. I can see the three nurses at the station near the entrance, but they are all facing away, huddled around one of the computer screens, discussing something in hushed voices. I manage to make it around the corner—
And walk directly into a mop and bucket someone left sitting there.
It clatters to the ground.
The conversation at the nurses’ station goes quiet.
“What was that?” one of them says, and I hear her chair scrape back as she stands to come investigate.
Another laughs. “Now you’re going to be spooked all night. You’ll go back to saying the ward is haunted.”
“I swear to God it’s haunted! Were you here that night when—”
“I’ll check it out,” the first nurse says. I hold my breath, looking desperately around for somewhere to hide as her footsteps get closer.
Then there’s another crash from somewhere in the other direction—a loud one. The monster must have knocked over something huge. The nurse’s steps reverse, shifting from walking to running as she dashes past the end of our hall and heads in the direction of the sound, the other two nurses close behind.
The monster comes back to us, so quickly that I imagine the nurses must have run right through it going the opposite way. The thought makes me feel ill, but there’s no time to dwell on it. The nurses’ station is temporarily unstaffed, and we need to get out now.
“Get the door alarm,” Jesse says. The monster is already rummaging around the nurses’ station, searching for the controls.
“Faster!” I hiss. “They’ll come back!”
The monster gives up on finding the alarm and starts shorting things out at random, sinking its long black tentacles into the computer monitors until the sparks fly and the screens wink out like extinguished candles. It disappears under the desk and I hear a sizzling noise, then a whirring sound overhead. I look up and get a face full of cold water as the emergency sprinkler system clicks on.
Chaos. All over the ward, patients are screaming, nurses and doctors yelling. Whatever the monster touched must have tripped off the sprinkler in all the rooms.
But did it shut off the alarm? Does it even matter now? Footsteps are running this way. I take a deep breath, push open the door, and rush out into the cold evening air. The sleet stopped long ago, but the ground is still slick with ice and my feet are bare, my thin hospital scrubs soaked through with cold water.
Jesse frowns down at my feet. “I’d carry you if I could.”
I’m not sure she even could—Jesse’s not that big—but it’s a nice thought. I smile at her. “Just run. I’m okay.”
Truthfully, I’m not. Running hurts like hell. My poor feet are already half frozen from my time on the clock, and every step on the icy ground sends pain shooting through them, but I can’t stop. I half run, half slip down the icy embankment, headed for the parking lot. “Where to?”
“We need a car,” Jesse says.
And fast. How long before they notice I’m gone? I’m sure, even in the chaos, it will only be a matter of minutes. We slide to a stop and crouch behind the nearest car.
“Someone else is in the lot,” the monster says.
I peer out from behind the car and see Dr. Sterling, just hitting the locks on his dark sedan. He looks more disheveled than usual, and I feel a pang of guilt knowing that he has come to check on me. His brow knits in a look of concern as he gazes up at Westgate, which has now become a hive of activity as the doctors and nurses struggle to evacuate the soaked patients. I watch him break into a trot, rushing past our hiding spot and up the hill.
The second he’s over the embankment we make a dash for his car, me keeping low so as not to be seen. Jesse throws herself through the passenger side door while the monster thrusts one thick tentacle through the driver’s side window to pop the lock. I realize with a start that I’m going to have to drive. It has been a while, but what else can we do? I tug the door open and scramble inside, slouching down in the seat to keep out of view. “How do I start it? There’s no key!”
In answer, the monster lays his massive tentacle on the hood of the car, like a defibrillator on a patient’s chest. There’s a crackle of electricity and I snatch my hands off the steering wheel as a jolt goes through me. The car roars roughly to life, hazard lights flashing, windshield wipers flailing.
Jesse gives a whoop of victory that makes me glad no one else can hear her. “Hot damn! Let’s go!”
I scramble to shut everything off and throw it into reverse, my bare foot pumping the gas. The car lurches drunkenly as the monster clamors onto the roof and I swing out of the parking space, wheels whirring on the icy pavement.
But we don’t get far. The wrought iron gate by the guard house is closed, and there’s no driving through it. We have no choice but to stop.
“ID please,” the guard’s voice comes over the microphone. Then he catches sight of my face and I see his eyes go wide. I can only imagine how I look: hair wild, hospital scrubs soaked, eyes burning with panic. I look like—well, an escaped lunatic, which is basically what I am.
The guard’s hand darts for his emergency alarm, but the monster is faster. One smoky tendril plunges through the control board, sending up a sudden spray of sparks that makes the guard jump back. “What the hell?”
The guardhouse lights flicker.
“Halt right there!” the guard yells, but his voice wavers. He’s freaked.
I try to keep my own voice calm. “Just let us out the gate.”
The guard peers into the car and I realize I’ve said “us” when I’m the only one he can see. His hand reaches for something out of sight. Does he have a gun? “Miss,” he says, “step out of the car.”
“He’s going to kill her,” the monster growls above me. “Make her send me into the light before she goes.”
“No one is getting killed!” I yell, making the guard jump. “And no one is getting sent into the light until I say they are. Now, please, open the gate!”
Jesse leans through her window and hits a button on the guard’s control panel. The gate swings open. I punch the gas and the car bucks forward like a racehorse jumping from the chute.
“Hey!” The guard yells behind us, “stop!”
A shot rings out.
“He is trying to kill her!” the monster bellows.
“He’s aiming for the tires,” Jesse says, but I can’t see how that’s much better. If he shoots out
a tire, we’re screwed.
I’m seriously freaking out. “It’s—” I look at the clock on the dashboard “—8:47. We only have like three hours!”
Jesse nods grimly. “You better step on it.”
“I can’t! If I do, I’ll get pulled over. Any minute now, there will be an APB out for an eighteen year old Latina girl in hospital scrubs. There’s no way they’re going to miss me.” I’m hyperventilating. “I’ve never even gotten a ticket! I can’t do this!”
Jesse looks at me “If you don’t,” she says, “we’ll never reach Delia in time.”
She’s right, of course. I’m going to have to risk it. My bare foot presses on the slushy gas pedal, and we fly down the darkened road in silence.
I glance at Jesse. She’s twisted around in the passenger seat, keeping a lookout behind us.
“Put on your seatbelt!” I snap.
She gives me a confused look. “I’m dead.”
“Put it on anyhow!” I yell. Then I realize how ridiculous that sounds and, in spite of myself, I start to laugh.
Jesse giggles, too, and in seconds we’re both laughing insanely. We laugh all the way to the highway, then drive for a long while in silence after the laughter fades.
“You sure you know how to get there?” Jesse asks after a while, and I’m about to tell her I think I do when the monster drops through the roof of the car and lands in the back seat, filling it completely. I jump about a mile—because, weirdly enough, I had actually forgotten it was up there. The car gives an odd little hiccough and shudder and starts to slow down. I pump the gas, but it does nothing. The engine is whirring strangely, like it does when you hook up the cables to jump-start another car, like something is dragging on the power.
“What’s going on?” Jesse’s image flickers nervously. “What’s wrong with the car?”
The monster’s black eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “No one is going any further until you send me into the light.”
Kissing Midnight Page 25
