Angel of Mercy (The Fallen)

by Lisa Olsen

  “Those must be some great drugs they've got you on,” he muttered, drawing out a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “I’m Detective Benjamin Gates, with the Seattle Police. I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  “Ah… the cops.” He didn’t look much like a cop in my opinion, something about his eyes were too gentle. Then again my experience with the police was blessedly limited. “Sure, go ahead.” It was better than what was on TV anyway.

  “Merceline Renault, that’s an unusual name. French?”

  I nodded, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before. “That’s what they tell me, though none "Tithough of my relatives ever seemed particularly French to me. Most of them live in California.” A half shrug was given. “You can call me Mercy, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mercy.” He smiled again and I felt myself smiling back like a fool. All at once it occurred to me I hadn’t showered or brushed my teeth in a few days, and my lips snapped shut. Had he already gotten a wave of dragon breath? My good hand snuck up to surreptitiously comb through the tangle of my hair, tucking it away behind my ear.

  Whatever my state, Detective Gates didn’t seem to notice or care. Instead, he plunged ahead with his line of questioning. “I’m sure you can guess why I’m here, we’d like to catch the guy that did this to you. What can you tell me about that night?”

  “The details are sketchy, but I’ll do my best.” I let out a deep breath, head falling back against the pillow as I cast my mind back. “I went out back to take out the garbage, it was my turn.”

  “This is behind Eden, the nightclub?” Gates interrupted, already scribbling into his notebook.

  “Yeah, I’m a bartender there,” I nodded. “It was late. Wt>< New Roe were almost ready to close, so I was out in the alley by the dumpsters and that’s when I saw the guys fighting. Well, sort of fighting, it was more like one guy attacking the other. He had a knife and I saw him stab the other one, so I yelled and shoved the garbage can at him.”

  “There was another guy there?” The detective’s brows drew together over that tidbit of information and I could tell it was news to him. “That wasn’t very nice of him, not sticking around after you got stabbed,” he muttered darkly. “Sorry, please continue. What do you remember about the man with the knife?”

  “It was dark, but he had brown hair. A little shaggy and long around the ears, and he was unshaven. Not a beard exactly, just scruffy. Dark eyes I think, but I could be wrong about that, they were…” I swallowed, recalling the expression in his eyes. They’d been full of rage and a light of excitement when I stepped into that alleyway, like I’d given him a gift. “They were dark,” I repeated lamely, not sure how to articulate it any better than that, but the Detective nodded encouragingly.

  “He was tall, not a, which isn’t hard to do.” I stand at just under five feet five inches, with a slender build, and I’d lost every fight I’d ever been in with my younger brother Matthias. I really had no business engaging a man with a knife like that.

  “I guess I wasn’t thinking, because instead of running for help I got it into my head I needed to stop him. He’d already stabbed the other man, and I worried he might kill him before help could come. But as soon as he saw me…” I swallowed again, wishing for Bryan and his ice chips. “He forgot all about the other guy and came after me.” His face loomed large in my memory, the smile curving his lips as he struck out with the knife.

  Detective Gates cleared his throat, drawing me out of my reverie. “I’m sorry to dredge up such painful memories,” he said gently, and I gave him a faint smile.

  “It’s okay. It’s my own fault for charging in there without a lick of sense.” Definitely wasn’t one of my smarter moves.

  “I’d like to show you some pictures, see if you can identify the man who attacked s N"> attayou.” He withdrew some mug shots from another pocket, laying them out on the bedside tray and rolled it towards me. I pressed the magic button on the side of the bed to sit up higher (that was the one thing I liked about hospital beds). “Do you see the man here among these shots?”

  Surprised they might already know who he was, I studied them with interest. Almost immediately I spotted the guy and pointed to him decisively. “That’s him.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Definitely, I’m positive,” I nodded vehemently, biting back the expletive that rose to my lips to further express just how certain I was. The photo showed the creep with a surly expression on his face that I’d seen first hand. But how did they know he was involved? Had a witness stepped forth? If so, then why didn’t they know about the other man? Or maybe my mystery man was the witness but hadn’t volunteered to the cops he was directly involved in the incident? Although more than likely the guy was checked into the same hospital, given the beating and stab wound he’d received at the hands of our attacker.

  “It’s funny, I had a… I guess it was a dream he was here last night,” I remarked, thinking of the blue eyed stranger.

  “Who, the guy that attacked you?” Detective Gates’ eyes widened in alarm at the idea, and I felt a stab of guilt for having gone off on a tangent in my mind without defining the segue.

  “No, the other man,” I corrected quickly.

  “What can you tell me about that man?” he asked, flipping the page in his little notepad.

  “Oh… well, he was tall like I said. Blonde hair, curly and kinda messy the way it fell over his forehead.” Good looking in a clueless sort of way, like he would have been a hottie with a makeover, but I didn’t mention that. “His clothing was… I remember a long brown coat. Beyond that… I’m sorry, I don’t remember. He’d been stabbed, like me, but he didn’t look like he was in pain, he looked sort of… lost. Or maybe not lost, but bewildered, as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. He had the bluest eyes…” my words trailed off.

  “Like yours?”

  “What?” My head came up distractedly as I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.

  “Your eyes… I’m sorry, I was just noticing how blue they are,” he replied, staring openly at me, his notepad forgotten. Not for the first time I wondered why people were staring at me lately. How much of a wreck did I look like from my brush with death?

  “How… blue… they are…” I nodded slowly, wishing for a mirror or even something shiny, but I was surrounded by plastic.

  “Is there something wrong?” Gates’ eyes narrowed in curiosity, and I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

  “No, nothing wrong.” I gave him a tight smile. What could I say? My eyes have been chocolate brown since birth, you’d better get your eyes checked, mister? Things were getting weirder and weirder, but I tried to dismiss it from my mind for the moment. For all I knew the guy was colorblind, or it was a temporary thing from the surgery. Or maybe it had to do with all the colors I saw around people? Unsure what it might mean, I resolved to ask for a mirror as soon as he left.

  “Ah, where were we?” I frowned, having completely lost my train of thought.

  Detective Gates looked down to consult his notes. “Oh, you were telling me about the other guy, the one who got stabbed. You said you thought you saw him here last night?”

  “Well yeah, but he couldn’t have been. They told me I wasn’t allowed visitors in the ICU. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve seen not wearing scrubs since Saturday.”

  “Maybe he was a patient here, if he got stabbed too?” he mused aloud. His hand rubbed along his jaw as if it itched and I could see he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet. Suddenly, I wondered if it wasn’t the end of a long night for him, instead of the beginning of a new day?

  “Maybe,” I agreed readily since my mind had already gone along those lines. “That shouldn’t be too hard for you guys to check out, right? I mean how many stab victims come in on any given day?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Gates sighed. “He might not have come in at all. A lot of these guys have their own people to stitch them up.”
<
br />   “What do you mean these guys?”

  “Drug dealers. This guy you picked out?” He picked up the mug shot of my attacker and shook it. “He’s a known drug dealer, among other things. We lifted his prints from a knife we found in the alley, the knife that stabbed you. Your ID clinches it. Maybe you got in the middle of a drug deal gone bad?”

  “Drugs?” Somehow I couldn’t picture the blonde man being in that alley to buy drugs. But then what else had he been doing there in the middle of the night? “You know who he is then? The guy who attacked me?” That was comforting. I thought it would be much tougher to find the man, if ever. Lucky for me he dropped his knife. Lucky for me, but stupid for him. Obviously this guy wasn’t a master criminal.

  “Yep, now it’s just a matter of picking him up. We’ve already got an APB out on him now. We’ll most likely have him in custody before you get released from the hospital.” Gates gave me a reassuring smile, and I believed him.

  “That’s good to hear.” I didn’t like to think about the guy lurking around the club, waiting to finish off the job. Although that was probably just being dramatic, he was most likely long gone at this point. Looking up, I realized the detective had fallen silent and stood there looking at me again. Not expectantly like he’d asked a question I missed, just reflectively. “Do you have any more questions?” My brows rose a fraction higher.

  The detective shook himself out of it, flipping his notebook shut. “No, I’ll let you get some rest now. When we do pick him up, we might ask you to come down and fill out some paperwork. Not until you’re well enough to, of course,” he added quickly.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever I can do to help.” The promise was given readily. Already tired of the hospital, I hoped it would be sooner than later.

  “In the meantime, if you think of anything else we should know, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.” Producing a business card, he set it down on the rolling tray.

  “I sure will,” I agreed, picking up the card and glancing down at it, my fingers moving over the neat print.

  “And if I need to call you…?”

  “You know where to find me. Something tells me I’ll be here for a while yet,” I gave a long suffering sigh and Gates laughed at my disgruntled tone.

  “You still live at the address on your driver’s license?”

  “Yep, and you know where I work, so I’d say you stand a pretty good chance of finding me if you want me.”

  The color rose on the side of his neck again and I wondered if I’d said something to embarrass him, but I didn’t know him well enough to guess what it was. “Well, thank you for your time Miss Renault.”

  “Mercy,” I reminded him.

  “Miss Mercy,” he amended, and we both made a face at the same time at how it sounded, sharing a laugh at each other’s expressions. “Mercy then,” he allowed with a nod.

  “Stop by anytime,” I couldn’t help but add. There were worse ways to spend my time than talking with a friendly cop with a great smile.

  * * *

  I found out first hand what those worse ways to spend my time were, as an ocular specialist came in to run the tests on my eyes. Dr. Estefan was a compact little man who ended every single sentence with hokay? As in Now I would like you to close your right eye and repeat the same series from top to bottom, hokay? Stifling a smile, I did as I was told, and for the life of me couldn’t tell if I passed or failed the tests based on his reactions.

  But soon enough he told me to have a nice day, hokay? and taking his leave. His color had been a mixture of greens and blues, though I hadn’t told him that. I started to think I should keep the colors to myself. After all it wasn’t hurting anything, and my vision was still crisp and accurate as far as I could tell.

  Not two seconds after he’d gone, my door opened again and I steeled myself for the next round of being poked and prodded, but to my relief my brother Matthias slouched in instead. “Matty!” I squealed, never so glad to see him in my life. My younger brother could be counted on to fetch and carry all the things the nuspahings trses were too busy for, and maybe even sneak in a bit of contraband. Only two years younger than me, we were close growing up, though I saw less of him in later years unless he was broke and needed a place to crash. His aura was a pale yellow with the faintest bit of blue around the edges.

  “Hey Merce,” he grinned, and I could see the relief etched plainly on his face. Just what had they told him to expect? Damn those doctors…

  “I’m so glad to see you, did you come by before while I was still out?”

  Matt nodded, dragging a chair up to the side of my bed. “Yeah, but all they would let me do is look at you through the glass for a while, so I went on home.” There was a touch of guilt in his voice at that, as if I’d be mad at him for leaving me there alone.

  Instead I nodded my approval, waving away his concern. “Did you call Mom?” I knew my expression matched his own, the vague distaste in what that conversation must have been like. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, I just don’t like dealing with her a whole hell of a lot. Trust me, if you met her you’d get that a little goes a long way where she’s concerned.

  “Yep, she wanted to fly out here, and shit, I almost told her to do it. They made it sound like you were gonna kick at any moment. But in the end I talked her into waiting and seeing a little longer. I g I w Romanuess you got better in the nick of time, huh?” He gave me that lopsided grin that always made me think of him as a little boy, gap-toothed with a bowl haircut, begging me to come and play outside with him.

  “She knows I’m getting better though?” That was a conversation I didn’t look forward to either. I was sure to get an earful on the dangers of city living and why I should be working at a library. Or a nunnery. No guff, she really suggested that to me once.

  “No worries, I bought you another day at least,” he drawled, head lolling back as he lounged in the chair more comfortably. Matthias never sat, he sprawled; he never stood, he slouched. He had the worst posture I’d ever seen.

  “Thanks.” I gave him a heartfelt smile. “Hey Matty, can you find me a mirror?” Suddenly I remembered I wanted to check my eyes among other things.

  “Why, you got a date later?” he smirked, long dark bangs falling into his eyes and not for the first time my fingers itched to give him a haircut. I gave him a look that spoke volumes and he relented, patting his pockets and giving the room a cursory look. “I don’t really see… Where am I supposed to find a mirror in a hospital room? Te="font>his isn’t a day spa.”

  “Look around for something reflective, made out of metal,” I prompted. How hard could it be? A hospital had to have something made out of stainless steel at the least that would let me check my eye color, it wasn’t like I needed a fancy mirror. It proved to be harder than I’d thought it would be, but after checking a few cupboards, he returned with a bedpan in hand, beaming proudly.

  “A bed pan?” My brow rose skeptically, but I lowered it almost immediately, catching his crestfallen expression. “Thank you, that should work perfectly,” I amended, holding my hands out for the thing.

  It was shiny enough to give me a somewhat distorted representation of my face, as long as I didn’t mind being compared to Jabba the Hutt. Staring back at me were brilliant, blue eyes instead of my usual brown ones; striking against my dark hair and pale complexion. “Huh.” My breath came out a little funny as I stared, turning the bedpan one way and then the other.

  “What?” Matt asked, watching me curiously.

  “My eyes are blue. I mean really, really blue, didn’t you notice?” I lowered the bedpan and looked at him, widening my eyes slightly.

  “Sure I did, I figured you got colored contacts or something. Nobody’s eyes are that blue naturally, and especially not yours. Yours are even darker than mine.” A careless shrug was given, clearly this wasn’t a big issue for him.

  “No, my eyes are actually blue now, ever since I woke up. That’s kinda weird, right?”

 
Matty stared a little closer, leaning forward to study them. “That is weird… I’ve never heard of that before, did the doctors say why it happened?” he murmured, and I started to feel like a bug on a stick, on display.

  “No, they’re clueless. Just like they can’t figure out why I took a turn for the better.”

  “Yesterday they asked me if you’d made your wishes known for last rites and how you wanted to be buried and stuff.” He slouched back again, looking uncomfortable.

  “Jesus… I’m sorry Matty, that must have been rough.” I would have patted his arm but I couldn’t reach him.

  “It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re doing better.”

  “And I’m just glad you’re here… so I can kick your ass at cards,” I grinned back.

  “I knew you’d say that.” Matt produced a deck of cards from his back pocket, his smile stretching wider. “I hope you’re ready for a whuppin’. I’m gonna own your car by the time you get out of this place.” The trash talk was already starting.

  “Bring it on, squirt, I’m gonna own you by the time I walk outta here.” My eyes glittered with avarice.

  In the end I did own him after a fashion, having secured IOU’s for various handy man type chores to be redeemed at my discretion when he ran out of money to bet. Not that he wouldn’t have helped me out with them anyway, but I planned on lording those IOU’s over his head for a while just for bragging rights. It wasn’t often that I beat him at cards. Maybe my luck was improving?

  Finally, they chased him out at dinnertime and I was relieved to find my status upgraded to allow me clear liquids. While beef broth and red jello weren’t exactly gourmet fare, after a diet of ice and water, it was sheer heaven.

  Sleep was a long time in coming as I lay in the darkened hospital room, listening to the activity out in the hallways. Something was definitely different about me, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. If I’d only known then just how different… I might not have found sleep at all.