The Four Horsemen

by Cheree Alsop

  Dr. Wolf

  The Fae Rift Series Book 3

  The Four Horsemen

  By Cheree L. Alsop

  Copyright © 2016 by Cheree L. Alsop

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN

  Cover Design by Dean Samed http://www.deansamed.com

  Editing by Sue Player

  www.ChereeAlsop.com

  To my loved ones,

  It takes a family to write a book,

  To dream, to believe, and see it

  Come to life.

  Thank you for dreaming with me.

  To my readers,

  May you believe in yourselves,

  Dream, and create your own magic.

  I believe in you.

  Chapter One

  “Dr. Wolf!”

  Aleric looked up to see an orderly sprinting down the hallway.

  “Careful,” Aleric warned him. “Nurse Talia will scold you for running.”

  Gregory ignored his remark. “Dr. Wolf! There’s a patient with a problem!”

  “What is it?” Aleric asked with a hint of humor. All of the patients had problems, otherwise they wouldn’t be patients.

  “He’s frothing at the mouth and biting people. He keeps repeating something about a horse man.”

  Aleric took off running. Each step pounded through his injured shoulder, but he didn’t care. He skidded around the corner and stopped at the sight of the human in the middle of the main E.R. area. Nurses and orderlies surrounded him. The man’s eyes were white as though his irises were covered with film. His movements were jerky and he looked from left to right without focusing on anyone.

  “Horseman. H-h-horseman,” the man groaned.

  Froth dripped from his mouth to the floor in great purple glops.

  “Let’s get you to a bed,” Nurse Eastwick suggested.

  “Don’t touch him!” Aleric shouted.

  The hospital staff turned to look at him.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Nurse Eastwick asked.

  “He’s seen the First Horseman,” Aleric replied. “He’s got the plague!”

  “When you say plague, do you mean rats, ships, people dying, scarves over mouths, bodies lining the streets type of plague?” Gregory asked.

  At that moment, the man chose to spew out nearly a gallon of the purple stuff across the floor.

  “I’m taking that as a yes,” Gregory said.

  “We need to clear the room,” Aleric told them.

  “Yes, Dr. Wolf. Everybody out of the E.R.,” Nurse Eastwick commanded. “Therese, Gregory, take Mr. Jamison and Mr. Franks to Outpatient. They can recover there. Jaroff, instruct Nurse Tarli to take her patient to Recovery as soon as her stitches have been wrapped.”

  Everyone rushed to follow their orders. Nurse Eastwick eyed the plagued man as though afraid he would start biting people. Fortunately, he appeared quite content to stand there and drip purple froth for the time being.

  “What do we do with him?” the nurse asked.

  Aleric thought quickly. “If I’m right about the Horseman—”

  The man took up the word. “H-h-horseman. H-h-horseman.”

  “Which I think I am,” Aleric said wryly, “Then we have a huge problem.”

  “We just got done with a huge problem,” Nurse Eastwick said. “Remember the demons? Your shoulder? You’re not supposed to be doing anything.”

  “If you don’t want me too…,” Aleric said. He walked toward the hallway doors.

  “Get back here!” the nurse ordered.

  Aleric turned with a grin. “Kidding. Sorry. Not a time to joke. Okay, what do we know about plagues?”

  Dartan shoved through the doors Aleric was about to use.

  “They’re stinky, they like to spread, and there’s usually a source.” He paused with his gaze on the frothing man. “Like that one.”

  “Great detective work,” Aleric said dryly. “What tipped you off?”

  The vampire’s lips curled back in distaste. “What I want to know is why you have a plague victim standing in the Emergency Room. You know better than that.”

  “I didn’t bring him here!” Aleric protested.

  “I don’t believe that,” Dartan replied. “All trouble seems to come from you.” He pointed at the man. “Trouble.” He pointed at Aleric. “You. See.”

  “I’m offended by that,” Aleric said. He tried to cross his right arm over the sling on his left, but it didn’t work. He gave up and glared at Dartan. “You’ll have to tell I’m offended by my glare because my arm is pretty much useless.”

  “I’ll take your offense at face value,” Dartan replied.

  “Can we stop arguing and get back to the plague victim?” Nurse Eastwick asked.

  Dr. Worthen appeared at the corner. “What’s all of this I’m hearing about a plague? I go into surgery, everything’s fine. I come out and patients have been relocated, the staff is in an uproar, and should we be concerned about that?” He pointed at the frothing man who had slumped himself over a chair and proceeded to give a loud snore.

  “I think it’s an improvement,” Dartan said.

  “Me, too,” Aleric agreed. “We need to make a quarantine zone and assume there will be more plague victims rolling in.” He looked at the vampire. “I put you in charge of the plague ward.”

  Dartan’s mouth fell open. “Why me? That’s not fair!”

  “You’re already dead,” Aleric replied. “So you’re not at risk.”

  The vampire glared at him. “I…am…not…dead,” he growled, spacing the words carefully.

  “Are you sure?” Aleric asked.

  “Yes,” Dartan said through his tightly-clenched pointed teeth.

  Aleric could hear the vampire’s heart pounding, which made the situation all the more hilarious. “Then don’t get the purple stuff on you,” Aleric suggested. “But if you die, don’t worry, you could be a vampire.”

  Dartan gave an angry huff. “I already am a vampire.”

  “This conversation is getting nowhere,” Dr. Worthen said.

  Aleric nodded. “That’s where this guy needs to be. Nowhere another patient could run into him. I’m suggesting we turn the D Wing into the quarantine zone until I can figure out where he came from.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” Nurse Eastwick asked.

  “I’ll track him. It shouldn’t be hard given that he’s all foamy and frothy. I’m guessing he left quite the trail.”

  “You shouldn’t go alone,” Dartan said.

  “The sun’s rising,” Aleric pointed out. “Your skin’s still healing. I won’t confront the Horseman, I just want to find out where he’s hiding. You get to stay with Frothy here.”

  The man burped and a purple bubble popped in front of his mouth.

  “Disgusting,” Dartan said with a shake of his head. “Why do plagues have to be so ugly?”

  “So that everyone doesn’t want it,” Dr. Worthen replied with a hint of a smile.

  Gregory hurried into the room. “Dr. Worthen, Nurse Talia said for me to tell you that the ambulance is arriving with three more plague victims.”

  “Great,” Dartan muttered.

  Aleric smiled. “Look on the bright side. The D Wing won’t be lonely.”

  Dartan pointed at the burping, snoring patient. “You call that company?”

  Aleric shrugged. “I don’t, but I’m not a vampire.”


  “They can be your pack, Wolfie,” Dartan shot back.

  A grin crossed Aleric’s face. “There it is. Save them for me. I’m sure they’ll make an excellent pack.”

  “At least they won’t have fleas,” Dartan told him.

  “Fleas with the plague. That would spread quickly,” Aleric answered. “I’ll track Burpy and come back when I’m sure where he came from. The faster we can locate the Horseman, the better.”

  Aleric made his way down the hall to the back parking lot. He ducked behind the dumpster and pulled off his shirt and sling to phase. It was only when he was in the middle of changing form that he realized what a bad idea it was. The pain to his shoulder was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. He leaned against the dumpster for several minutes telling himself that it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. When he took his first step in wolf form, he then told himself that he was an idiot and wounds from silver hurt far worse than they should.

  Muttering inwardly about the fact that he couldn’t trail in human form, he limped around to the front of the hospital. Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find the trail the plagued man had made. The purple globs, which appeared light gray to Aleric’s eyes, had a pungent, sulfuric scent to them. It wasn’t hard to track from one glob to the next.

  Thanks to the early hour, there were few people on the street. Individuals out that early appeared either overly-enthusiastic about exercise and jogged past with headphones on and their gazes distant, or they wore hoodies or big coats and slunk in the shadows as though reluctant to be seen. Those he saw made their way to the other side of the road when they spotted him coming. He gave them the same berth.

  The trail took him on a winding course through back alleys and down side streets. It didn’t appear as though the plague victim had intended to go to the hospital, he just veered there as the frothing got worse. His steps changed from the indistinct wandering near the hospital to a direct course, solid directions, and a path which led to the front door of a small restaurant.

  Aleric backed up a few steps to read the sign. ‘Pasta-Pocalypse’ was proclaimed in red letters on a green banner across the top of the restaurant. By the scent of the vinyl that wafted down compliments of the early-morning breeze, the sign was new. Aleric could smell flour, eggs, and fresh spinach from beneath the door. After a bit of searching, he located the scent of the patient heading into the restaurant the night before. When he left, the same scent carried with it the faint sulfur odor that intensified the closer he got to the hospital.

  Aleric had promised that he wouldn’t go inside, and he couldn’t exactly phase in public and knock on the door without drawing significant attention to the fact that he had nothing to wear. According to the sign near the door, the restaurant wouldn’t be open for another few hours. He checked the back of the building, but despite a few bags of garbage in the alley behind, there was nothing significant about it.

  At one moment, near the back wall, Aleric thought he caught the scent of a horse, but when he attempted to find it again, it had vanished.

  Frustrated by the lack of information, Aleric took a shorter route back to the hospital. He realized after a few blocks that his left paw, which had been sliced by the Archdemon’s silver stake during the fight, was starting to bleed. He gritted his teeth and kept going. He was almost to the hospital when a voice called his name.

  “Dr. Wolf! Dr. Wolf!”

  The high, small voice made him want to smile, but he smothered the urge with the thought that a wolf’s grin looked far too much like a snarl, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare them. He turned at the sound of running feet.

  “I’m so glad we found you!” Grimma said.

  The six-year-old’s arms wrapped around his neck as far as she could reach.

  “We have something to show you,” Grimsli, her twin brother, told the werewolf.

  Aleric didn’t want to walk any further than necessary on his bad shoulder. He glanced toward the hospital hidden behind buildings a few blocks away, wondering if he should go change form and then come back.

  “Come on!” Grimma urged. “It’s important.”

  Aleric let them lead him toward the alley the grims had made into a home. Despite the fact that it was indeed just a little closed-off alley between two run-down buildings, the twins had turned it into a cozy place to live. They had been busy since Aleric had seen them last. The cardboard boxes had been stacked to create a cave which was lined with the blankets Aleric had brought them.

  Water bottles, the food the werewolf had given them, and small treasures like a Christmas ornament, a cracked hand mirror, several coins, and a lamp that leaned to one side occupied the far wall. A small cupboard that was missing a shelf had been brought in. Two rickety chairs and a ragged rug that looked as though it had seen better days turned the cave into a serviceable room. Aleric was amazed at their scrounging abilities. They would have done as well as he during his days as a Drake City street rat.

  The blankets moved. A growl escaped Aleric’s throat. He placed himself between the blankets and the grims.

  “It’s okay,” Grimsli said. “That’s what we wanted to show you.”

  Grimma crouched beside him and pulled on the blanket to slide it down. Aleric stared at what was revealed.

  An elf lay with her hands clutching her stomach and her eyes shut tight. The silver leaf tattoos along her pale skin revealed that she was a woodland elf whose kind cared for the forests of Blays. Her slender, elegant form was curled around the wound. Aleric wondered for a moment if she was alive, but the faint sound of her heartbeat touched his ears.

  Aleric glanced at Grimma.

  “We found her near the park,” she said. “We heard her crying.”

  Aleric’s gaze shifted to her arm.

  Grimma shook her head. “We didn’t get her name; I think that means you’re supposed to rescue her.”

  The elf’s eyes opened. Her silver irises caught the light from the sun behind Aleric. At the sight of him, her eyes widened in fear and she pushed back against the wall.

  “This way,” she said to the children. “I’ll protect you from him!”

  Grimma giggled. “Dr. Wolf’s our friend.”

  Grimsli nodded. “He’s here to help you.”

  The elf gave Aleric a wary look. “Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to trust werewolves?”

  “He’s the one that let us stay here,” Grimma told her.

  The elf’s pained gaze traveled over the twins’ cardboard box home. It was obvious by her expression that she wasn’t impressed.

  Aleric wished he could tell her it was far better than Grimmel’s factories.

  “Dr. Wolf wants to tell you that it’s far better than Grimmel’s factories,” Grimma said. “And I agree. That place was horrid.”

  She and Grimsli exchanged a look of horror at the thought of the place they worked before falling through the Rift.

  “The werewolf is taking care of you?” the elf asked skeptically. She winced and a hiss escaped her. She doubled over her stomach.

  “He is,” Grimma said. She glanced back at Aleric. “And he’s worried about you. He wants to take you to the hospital immediately.”

  “A werewolf at…the hospital?” the elf asked between gasps of breath.

  “Yes, he works there,” Grimma explained. “And he says you’re losing blood too quickly.”

  “How do you know that?” Grimsli asked. “Are you talking to him?”

  Aleric was busy staring at the little grim child. The things she said were exactly what he was thinking.

  Grimma met his gaze. “Yes, and he’s just as amazed about it as you are. You remember how I used to tell you what the birds were saying as they flew past the warehouse? I can hear Dr. Wolf the same way.” She giggled.

  “What?” Grimsli asked.

  “Dr. Wolf doesn’t believe me, either,” she said.

  Aleric gave a snort.

  The elf let out a moan of pain. S
he looked at Aleric with such suffering in her eyes that his heart went out to her.

  “Help me, please,” she said, her voice weak.

  Aleric crossed to her side.

  “Dr. Wolf needs us to help her up,” Grimma told her brother.

  Both of the grims worked together to help the elf half-stand, half-lean with an arm over Aleric’s neck. He took several steps toward the mouth of the alley. Her weight made his limp that much more pronounced. He gritted his teeth against the pain and glanced back at Grimma.

  “He says to stay here,” she told her brother. “He wants us to be safe.”

  “Alright,” Grimsli replied to Aleric. “But if you need our help, howl and we’ll be right there.”

  The thought of having his own little band of rescuers would have been humorous if Aleric wasn’t positive he wouldn’t need it. With each step toward the hospital, the elf’s weight became more pronounced until she was nearly leaning her entire body across his back. Nobody was in sight on the streets to give assistance, though Aleric wasn’t sure they would do so if they had the chance. The strange sight of a giant wolf with a slender, bleeding woman across his back would probably evoke fear rather than empathy. Grateful for the thin, tall build of the elven race, Aleric limped through the sliding doors of the Emergency Room.

  It took one bark to bring half the E.R. staff rushing into the main room.

  “Bring a bed,” Dr. Worthen called.

  “Prep O.R. Seven,” Nurse Eastwick told Therese.

  Dartan burst through the doors. “What in Blays?” he exclaimed at the sight of them. “That’s an elf.”

  Aleric rolled his eyes at the vampire’s keen ability to point out the obvious. He crouched while the staff lifted the elf onto the bed.

  “Is any of that blood yours?” Dartan asked. His face was paler than usual and he kept his distance from them.

  Aleric gave a single shake of his head. He watched Dr. Worthen and Nurse Eastwick roll the bed out of sight, then let out a sigh of relief. She was in someone else’s hands far more capable than he. A thought occurred to him and he lifted his head quickly.

  “I know,” Dartan said, raising a hand. “Tell them not to use a saline solution. Elves are allergic to salt. I’ll inform them.” He hurried after the others.