by Audrina Cole
But River didn’t know about the call Alex had gotten from the curious doctor.
I sighed, drawing my knees up to my chest and resting my head against them. “I’ve really screwed things up.”
“Maybe. But I don’t think so. I think Alex will come around.” He pointed at the blood bag beside me. “In the meantime—drink.”
“I will.” I picked up the bag.
My brother stood up and walked toward the door.
“River?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder.
“Thanks.” I managed a weak smile.
He smiled back. “No problem. You may be a pain, but you’re my favorite sister.”
“I heard that!” came Meadow’s voice from downstairs.
We both rolled our eyes. River closed the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
River was right—Alex was different. And as long as Alex understood our family, he’d never turn us in. That meant it was up to me to make sure that he did understand. I opened the pint of blood and drank it down quick.
Drinking blood when you weren’t in bloodlust was pretty gross. During the lust, blood tasted like a divine, sweet nectar—like the most pristine, delicious water on the tongue of a parched desert survivor. Blood always tasted better when warm and fresh, but cold was just fine, too. But once the hunger had been satiated, drinking blood was just plain nasty. And cold blood? It always made me a little queasy, just before I drank it. But my brother was right—I hadn’t had enough the night before. And I needed to be in top shape.
I was going back to the hospital.
Chapter 23
“I’m sorry, Miss, but only family can visit Gina Baxter, at the moment.” The nurse at the surgical desk eyed me over her wire-rimmed glasses.
“You don’t understand. I’m looking for her son. He’s the one I’m here to see—but he’ll be in her room.”
“Oh. Well, then, you’re in luck. She was just transferred out of ICU, and she’s in a private room now. One floor up.” She looked up the information in her computer, and gave me the room number. “But remember, you can’t go in. She’s not ready for too many visitors, yet. Immediate family only.”
“Of course.” I thanked her and took the elevator up to the next floor.
As I approached the room, I looked through the door’s narrow window and saw—through a sliver of an opening in the curtain that was pulled around the bed—that Alex was sitting at his mother’s bedside. I reached out to turn the door handle, when a voice startled me.
“Can I help you?”
I turned to see a man in scrubs, about fifty-ish, with greying brown hair, a beard, and glasses. He was sitting a few feet away at a computer terminal mounted to the wall near Mrs. Baxter’s room.
“I’m just here to see a friend.” This guy better not try to get in my way.
“The boy—Alex?”
I nodded.
“I’m Dr. Kline. You wouldn’t happen to be Ember, would you?”
I nodded again, biting my lip. I didn’t like the feeling I was getting from this guy. He wasn’t going to be of any help.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it’s family only, for right now.”
“I just need to see Alex.”
“I understand, but you see, Alex Baxter left specific instructions with the nurses that you weren’t to be allowed near his mother…or him. It’s right there in the chart.” He pointed to the computer terminal he’d just abandoned.
Just my luck that Mrs. Baxter’s doctor was updating her chart right when I arrive, I thought. “Please, I just want to talk to him. I’ll wait out here, if you could only let him know—”
“He was very specific. And his father supports his request. My hands are tied.”
“Please…you don’t understand…he’s just angry. I just need to talk to him…please, just tell him I’m here.”
I sensed that he was wavering. I turned on the water works, letting the tears flow that I had held back the whole way to the hospital. “Please, doctor….please?”
He sighed. “Alright. But you can’t go in. Mrs. Baxter’s condition is such that there are no visitors allowed except immediate family. I don’t want you yelling through the door, either. You go wait over at the nurses’ station, and don’t move from there unless I tell you Alex Baxter has agreed. But you have to promise to leave if he refuses to see you.”
“I will, I promise.” Relieved, I turned and walked toward the nurses’ station, halfway down the hall.
Pacing back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, I worried about what Alex might be saying. What is taking so long? Is the doctor arguing on my behalf? Is Alex angry—is the doctor calming him down? I have to know. I strained to listen, but they must have been whispering, because I couldn’t hear anything over the din of the bustling nurses’ station. I sent out my “feelers”, but all I could sense was distress coming from Alex. If there was anger, it wasn’t enough to outweigh his worry over his mother. Does that mean he’s coming around?
From the doctor I could sense curiosity and some kind of excited feelings. I was grateful—he must be arguing in my defense, despite not knowing the context of the disagreement between Alex and I. Either that, or Alex was telling him I was a dangerous person and I should be kept away.
Sometimes, sensing feelings isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
The waiting was killing me. Glancing at the nurses—who were busy entering information into computerized patient charts, answering the phone, or chatting with each other—I stole away and tiptoed down the hallway toward Mrs. Baxter’s room. I sidled up to the door and slowly peeked through the window.
A blur blue scrubs obscured the window, and I jumped back just as the door opened with a soft click, and the doctor slipped through the door and shut it quietly. He turned, startled to see me standing so close.
“I thought I told you to wait over there.”
“I…I did, but I was worried. It was taking so long. I was coming to check.”
“I’m afraid he doesn’t want to see you.”
“Did you tell him—?”
“Miss, you promised to leave after I asked.”
“But—”
“Listen,” he put an arm around my shoulder, leading me away from the door. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I do know that things can get pretty heated when boys and girls get into an argument. I’m sure things will work out. He’s going through a lot right now, so just give him some time, alright?”
I sighed. “Alright.” Arguing with the doctor would do no good. I could feel his resolve—he wasn’t letting me into that room.
He walked me to the elevator, then pressed the button. “In the meantime, if you need to talk, let me give you my card.” He pulled a card from the breast pocket of his white coat and held it out.
Why would I want to talk with him? “Are you a shrink?” I took the card and held it up, without having read it.
“No. A cardiothoracic surgeon, actually. I’m with Johns Hopkins, in Baltimore.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m here for the week, as proctor for a pioneering robotic surgical technique,” he said, in answer to my unasked question. “Sacred Heart is taking part in my trials. One of the surgeons I’m working with mentioned that he had consulted on Mrs. Baxter’s case last night, and when he told me this morning that she’s had a miraculous recovery, I just had to come down and see it for myself.”
My heart sped up, and it was all I could do to keep my breathing in check.
It’s him! The one who called Alex.
“Oh?” I said, working to keep my voice from faltering. “She’s doing well, then?”
He smiled. “Well, you’re not family, so I can’t give you any specific information about her condition. But I think you know how she’s doing.”
I frowned in false confusion, hoping to hide my fear. “I do?”
There was a long, awkward pause, while he held his smile frozen in
place. His gaze was penetrating. At last he spoke. “Of course. She was moved from ICU to a private room. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”
I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “Yes. Yes, thought so, too. I just wish I could talk to Alex, so I could find out how she’s really doing.”
“I’m sure he’ll contact you soon enough. Now you get going, before it gets dark. It’s not a good idea for a young woman to be walking around in a parking garage at night, even if there is security.”
I was so relieved to get away from the doctor, that I didn’t even recognize until the elevator reached the ground floor that I’d felt something strange when talking with Dr. Kline.
He was…pleased.
Chapter 7
I’d debated all weekend whether or not I should tell my parents about Dr. Kline. On the one hand, nothing had changed, except that I’d met the man asking questions. On the other hand, Dr. Kline had mentioned Mrs. Baxter’s “miraculous recovery”, which meant I’d garnered more attention from him than I’d first feared.
But Mrs. Baxter was nowhere near recovered. The fact that she was out of ICU and had limited visitation allowed spoke volumes. And then there was the worry that I’d felt coming from Alex, through the hospital room door. No, Mrs. Baxter was barely beginning her recovery. Dr. Kline must have just been fishing for information with any friend or family member who came by.
In the end, I decided not to tell them. Yet. If Alex came around, everything would be fine. Dr. Kline would go back to Connecticut soon, and things would go back to normal.
At least, that was what I hoped.
I sat on my bed Monday morning, staring at the history book in my lap, but I couldn’t focus on the words. I couldn’t think of anything but Alex. I’d tried to call him for three days, but every time, the call went to voice mail after two rings—he was screening his calls.
And rejecting mine.
I kept telling myself to give him time—that River was right, and Alex would come around. Who am I kidding? Alex hates me. He’s disgusted by me. I remembered his horrified expression as Mom told him the truth. As the morning wore on, it things felt more and more hopeless.
Alex is gone.
It wasn’t until a teardrop fell on the page that I realized I was crying. Again.
Hard footsteps pounded up the stairs, and my bedroom door flew open.
“Ember, quick, you have to go!” River’s eyes were wide and the panic rolled off him in waves.
“What?” I felt my own heart speed up to match his.
“Didn’t you hear them? They just pulled up. Hurry, before it’s too late!”
“What? Who?” I had no idea what was going on—I’d been too wrapped up in my own misery.
He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me toward the door. I managed to snatch my purse from the bed before he dragged me into the hall. I was still wearing my slippers.
“A military jeep just pulled up in front of the house,” he hissed.
“Oh my God.” The air left my lungs, and I couldn’t pull in a new breath. “Alex…he turned us in?”
River bit his lip. “Maybe not. Maybe…”
“He turned me in, River!” I whispered. “He doesn’t understand. He’s not going to ‘come around’—he hates me so much, he doesn’t care what happens to me!”
“I just…I can’t believe he’d do that.”
“He’s afraid for his mother. I went to the hospital Thursday night. He’s afraid of me, and wants to keep me away.”
“Oh, Em, I told you to give him time,” he sighed. “But it’s too late for that. You need to go—sneak out the back door.”
I heard the heavy tread of multiple pairs of boots walking up onto the porch.
“And leave you and Mom? No way! If he turned me in, he probably turned us all in. I’m not leaving you.”
“Go, Em!” He pushed me toward the stairs. “Just go! Mom is already answering the door. There’s no point in all of us getting rounded up.”
“No, this is my fault!”
I heard Mom’s voice at the door, followed by a deeper voice.
“Please, go,” River hissed. “Call Dad and Meadow, and warn them not to come home.”
“Wait—aren’t you coming?”
“Ember!” Their mother called up the stairs. “Come on down.”
I had been too distracted by River and the sound of my own thudding heartbeat to hear the exchange down by the door. River and I exchanged fearful looks, then we both descended. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I felt Mom’s fear, worry, and resignation ebb toward us. She led us to the front door, where a uniformed man of about sixty stood, flanked by two soldiers.
I didn’t miss the black armbands the men wore, emblazoned with large white letters—MP—which indicated they were military police.
We walked out onto the porch. I resisted the urge to take my mom’s hand and cling to it, like a little girl.
“Ember, this is Sergeant Major Weston,” Mom said. “He…he wants to speak with you.”
I bit my lip and said nothing. I wasn’t revealing anything. Mom and Dad had prepared us for this possibility long ago.
“Are you the same Ember Perry that was at Sacred Heart Hospital on Wednesday night, and again on Thursday night, visiting a…” he consulted a file in his hand “…Gina Baxter?”
“Y-yes,” I replied.
“What is this about?” my mother asked. I felt the dread radiating from her.
He fixed my mother with a kind expression, but I knew Mom and River could sense the same thing I could—it was a mask. Beneath his patient exterior, he was annoyed with her interference. I could feel his restrained aggression.
It scared me.
“Mrs. Perry, we just need to ask your daughter a few questions about what she saw in the hospital.”
“That doesn’t explain what this is about.”
“We just feel that Miss Perry may have information that could be helpful to the United States Army, and she would be doing a great service to her country if she could help us.” He followed up the lie with a practiced smile.
I glanced at Mom. Her face was impassive, but beneath the surface, she was wracked with indecision—was it worse to resist, or to cooperate? “Fine. Come on in, and I’ll make us all some tea—”
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Perry. We need to conduct the interview on military grounds. We’ll need to take her to Fairchild Air Force Base.”
“Absolutely not. If you want to speak with her, you can do it here.”
“I don’t think you understand,” the broad-shouldered man took a step forward. He wasn’t much taller than my mother, but he was stocky and imposing. The men behind him tensed, on high alert. “This is a matter of national security. The questions I need to ask must be discussed in a secure location. I’m willing to do it on the Air Force base, as it’s the closest military installation. Or we could do it at the nearest Army base, which is Fort Lewis, near Seattle. Or, if you want to make things difficult, I could take her back with me to Fort Detrick, in Maryland. It’s your choice.” The smile remained on his face, but it was more menacing than kind, and the smile did not reach his eyes.
“Is my daughter suspected of some crime? Do we need a lawyer?” My mother crossed her arms, unwilling to be intimidated…but I felt the fear she was fighting back.
Beside me, River was a bundle of nerves.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Perry…do you think you need one?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Look, I have no desire to cause any problems here. I don’t know why you would want to. All I want to do is ask your daughter a few questions, and be on my way. Personally, I don’t believe she has much to contribute, but I do what I’m told. So the sooner you cooperate, the sooner I can be on a plane back to Maryland.”
Mom exchanged glances with River and me. Whatever he was hiding, Sergeant Major Weston wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t think I had much to contribute. Which meant that whatever Alex
had said, the military—or at least Weston—didn’t believe it completely.
But they believed enough to think it warranted a cross-country flight, on last-minute notice.
What could Alex have said? Is this what was being discussed for so long with Dr. Kline last night? Did Alex spill the beans as revenge? Or because he was so disgusted with me?
Suddenly I didn’t feel like fighting anymore. If Alex didn’t want me, I didn’t care what happened. At least if they took me, the rest of the family might have a chance to get away.
“Let’s just get it over with, Mom,” I sighed, trying to feign the attitude of a normal annoyed teenager, rather than the terrified supernatural freak that I really was.
“Alright.” She turned to River. “You stay here. We’ll be back in a little while—”
“No, Mrs. Perry. I’m afraid there’s no room in our vehicle for you.”
“You are not taking my daughter without a guardian present.”
“You’re welcome to follow behind in your own car.”
“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll see you at the base.” I hugged her, and whispered in her ear so quietly that no one but a Healer could have heard. “Don’t come. Stick to the plan.”
“I’m not leaving you. River will follow the plan,” she whispered back.
I pulled back, shooting her a glare. No, Mom! Stay here! I hoped she understood my thoughts by sensing my emotions.
“You’ll have to stop at the main gate,” Weston said to Mom. “We’ll leave instructions for you with the MPs there. Bring picture identification, and proceed to the building as instructed by the MPs at the gate.” He turned and descended the steps, striding toward the jeep. I glanced at the MPs and followed Weston, and felt the two men fall into place behind me.
As one of the MPs moved ahead to open the jeep door for Weston and I, I could hear River’s whispered argument with Mom. He didn’t agree with the plan—he wanted to go, too. I knew he’d lose that argument. I knew what the plan was. We’d gone over it a million times.
