Knights of Black Swan, Books 7-9 (Knights of Black Swan Box Set Book 3)

by Victoria Danann

  What I said to my teammates was, “So the biggest monster turned out to be one of us. There must be some kind of lesson in that.”

  “Yeah,” Storm said quietly. “I think it’s time for you to catch a little nappy.”

  “She did no’ contract the virus.” I was no’ sure if ‘twas a statement or a question, more a request for confirmation really. “Even though she was bitten.”

  “No,” Storm shook his head. “She didn’t.”

  He started to move the wheelchair out. That woke me up. “Leave the chair,” I said.

  “You don’t need to be galavanting about in a wheelchair. What was that the doc said?” He turned to Kay. “A concussion and a hundred and…?”

  “Forty-three,” Kay said.

  “Forty-three stitches.”

  “If you want me to sleep, leave the chair,” I gritted out.

  “Of all the stubborn…”

  “You better watch out, Storm,” I said. “You’re on the verge of surpassin’ my reputation for cursin’.”

  He pressed his lips together, but left the chair by the bed so that I could reach out and touch it. “Fine. Here’s your binky.”

  Kay reached over and pulled the covers up to my chin. I swatted at his hand. “Get away from me, arsewipe.”

  Kay chuckled and turned to Storm. “How can we tell if there was permanent brain damage? I mean, it’s Ram.”

  I opened my mouth to say something else untoward, but Storm spoke first.

  “Okay, Rammel, rest and take care of yourself,” he said. “It’s report time for us.” Kay stepped out into the hall, but Storm turned at the door to voice one last thought. “Looks like you’re a hero. Again. Your legend is starting to get out of hand, growing to epic proportions.”

  My eyelids were refusin’ to stay all the way open, but I remembered to ask about Elora’s dog. “Who’s takin’ care of Blackie?”

  “He’s with Sanction. You know,” Storm hesitated before finishin’ the sentence, “if it wasn’t for that dog, we wouldn’t have found her in time.”

  I think I said, “Good dog,” but can no’ be sure. I lost consciousness or went to sleep. I’m no’ sure if there’s a difference.

  The next time I woke, ‘twas to the smell of bacon. I cracked an eye open. Sunlight was streamin’ through the window blinds and makin’ a pattern across the floor. Somebody had moved the wheelchair and put a tray with breakfast in its place. I swore that the knife wound hurt more than it had the day before, if that was possible. All of a sudden I had a desire to see what it looked like.

  Lookin’ past the plate of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and hashbrowns with onions and green peppers - someone had made them the way I like, Storm was standin’ there starin’ at me.

  “Wakey. Wakey, biscuits flakey,” he said.

  I stared at him, wonderin’ if there was a part of him that was enjoyin’ my pain and infirmity. I started to sit up, but the pain made me gasp and freeze in place.

  Storm shoved the food tray aside and grabbed my arm to stabilize me and help me sit upright. “Almighty Woden. You look even paler than usual.”

  “Fuck. You,” I managed.

  He chuckled. “Good to know some things are still working.”

  “Elora,” I said.

  “Let’s get you into a comfortable position so you can eat breakfast and I’ll give you the rundown. I just got the full report from her doc.”

  “Tell me now.”

  “You’re not in a position to be demanding.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Okay might be an assessment too far. I feel comfortable saying she’s embracing recovery.”

  “Bathroom,” I said.

  He came to the side of the bed, crooked his arm, and made it stiff. “When did you get to be such a nursemaid?” I asked, then wanted to slap myself in the face when I realized what I’d just asked.

  “Elora was in even worse shape when she was here before.” That was all he said and I was glad he didn’t elaborate on the months he’d spent helpin’ her while I was actin’ the fool.

  Once my body absorbed the initial shock of standin’ upright, I was able to get to the bathroom on my own, although any garden slug could have easily beat me there if he’d a mind to.

  While I was in there, I took a look in the mirror. Great Paddy. My face was bad enough and swollen on the side with the knife wound. But ‘twas no’ so bad compared to the rest. I was no’ goin’ to be invited to do shirtless pin up posters any time soon. If ever. No’ that I had been asked for such a thing in the past, but you never know. Just sayin’.

  I hoped that there was more to me than my looks because I still had my mind set on makin’ a certain red-and-pink-haired woman fall in love with me. I wondered if that stuff Monq gave Elora to make her skin heal without scarrin’ would work on me.

  It seemed like hours later when I was situated sittin’ up and nibblin’ at bacon. By that time, Kay had come in carryin’ a big steamin’ coffee from the Hub.

  “…no internal damage or broken bones.” Storm was givin’ me the rundown. “Her red blood cells are restored to normal. Her white blood cell count’s high and they’re watching it. Some of the lacerations required stitches. Normally there would be scarring, but they already know Monq’s regenerative skin salve works on her, so, based on her recovery pattern from before, they think she’ll be good as new in a few weeks. Maybe sooner.

  “They’re giving her sedative to keep her sleeping for another day. And that’s about it.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  Storm shook his head. “Nope. She’s been out of it since we pulled her out of that cell.”

  I winced when he said it. I might no’ have been there, but my mind filled in the spaces with imagery. I can no’ say how accurate ‘twas, whether ‘twas more or less horrific than what had actually taken place, but what I saw in my head was more gruesome than I could stomach. I pushed the tray of food away.

  “Kay,” I said, “I’d be askin’ you a favor if you please.”

  He did no’ ask what. He just nodded as if to say the answer would always be o’ course.

  “Will ye go to Elora’s apartment and hunt up her collection of…” ‘Twas hard for me to say it, “…fairy tales. They’re in a lace-up folder. She typed ‘em from memory.”

  “I’ll need to go to Operations and get somebody to let me in.”

  “The code is ‘never’.”

  Storm cocked his head and gave me a strange look. I do no’ know if that was because he was surprised I had the code or because he was curious why she chose ‘never’. But he said nothin’ about it either way. I do no’ know if he also had the code. Judgin’ from his expression, I’m guessin’ no’. Paddy help me. In spite of his kindness, I was feelin’ smug about that.

  When Kay was gone, Storm said, “Why do you want the stories?”

  “I have this theory that people show you what they need by the way they treat other people. When Touchstone was in recovery… you remember?” Storm nodded. “She used to come to his room after dinner and read him her stories.”

  “She did?”

  “Aye. She did.”

  “You think they’re goin’ to let you do that?”

  I looked at Storm. “You think they can stop me?”

  “I think after last night they’ve ordered a stock of elephant darts just for you.”

  My gut pulled tight in a laugh which quickly turned to screamin’-out-loud pain. My hand reached for my middle, but just in time, I realized I couldn’t put pressure on the stitches. Storm was laughin’, enjoyin’ the whole thing more than he should’ve.

  “Do no’ make me laugh or I will kick your arse when I’m out of here.”

  Storm could be odd at times and it seemed that was one of them. My declaration only served to make him laugh harder.

  When Kay returned with the satchel of stories, I thanked him and he said, “Okay. Need anything else?”

  “Well, I was wonderin’ if Monq would share
some of that miracle skin-fix with a humble knight.”

  Kay smiled. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Women like scars.” When he did no’ get a reaction from me, he said, “Yeah. I’ll ask Monq about a special spa day for your beauty treatment.”

  They got up to leave. Storm said, “They’re hoping you give them a reason to use the new elephant darts.”

  “Oh, aye. Very funny.”

  As soon as I was sure they had left the part of the buildin’ designated as infirmary, I got myself into the wheelchair, put the stories in my lap and wheeled over to Elora’s room. As luck would have it, no one was at the nurses’ station or in the hall or in her room.

  I rolled up next to the bed to get a good look. She looked pale, but I reveled in the comfort of hearin’ the heart rate monitor. Steady as she goes. I unlaced the big folder and removed the first story, stapled together. I smiled at the small drops of cocoa near the bottom of the first page. And I began to read out loud.

  She loved those stupid stories, but more importantly, I knew she might be aware on some level that there was someone here waitin’ for her, hopin’ she’d hear the sound of my voice and come back to me soon.

  I was halfway through “Rapunzel”, my throat feelin’ parched and needin’ a wettin’, when a nurse came in to check Elora’s IV and vital signs. When she saw me, her usual business-like rush faltered for a step, but ‘twas no’ long before the requisite bossy-nurse persona was back in place.

  “Sir Hawking, does the doctor know you’re in here instead of in your own bed? Where you’re supposed to be?”

  “I’m no’ supposed to be in bed.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m supposed to be here readin’ stories to the Lady Laiken.”

  “Hmmm,” she grumbled. “I’m not sure you and your doctor are in agreement on that.”

  “Nevertheless, ‘tis the case. And if ‘twould no’ trouble you overmuch, I would appreciate some water.” She eyed me like she did no’ quite know what to make of me. “And a bottle of Irish whiskey.”

  “Whiskey,” she repeated.

  “Aye. They have the kind I like in the bar on the top shelf. ‘Tis called Redbreast. Just tell them ‘tis for me and they’ll give you no trouble.”

  “The idiots in the bar might offer no trouble, but I assure you that I would have a world of trouble with your doctor should I comply with such a ridiculous request.”

  After a few seconds of starin’ at each other, her makin’ as mean a face as has ever been seen on a woman, I said, “Just the water then.”

  Her chin came up as she was apparently finished with checkin’ boxes on her little clickey tablet. “We’ll see.”

  When she left, I wondered if she was goin’ to get the doctor or the elephant gun, but I had no’ long to wait to find out. Within a couple of minutes she was back with the doc. The same vaguely Asian-lookin’ woman who’d tried to overpower me the night before.

  “Sir Hawking,” she said, “ still causing trouble, I see.”

  “’Tis far from the truth. I’m sittin’ here mindin’ my own business, readin’ stories to my partner. What’s the harm in that?”

  “The harm is not to your partner or the staff or The Order or Jefferson Unit or any other thing under the sun other than you. You are harming you. And as the extraordinarily valuable asset you apparently are, we simply cannot allow that to continue.”

  ‘Twas startin’ to resemble the sorts of lectures I used to get from my father, who wrote the book on lectures. If I would no’ stand for it from him, I certainly never saw the day when a slip of a medic would tell me where to be and what to do.

  “I’m stayin’ here.”

  “You are not.”

  “I am.”

  “I will simply have you carried out.”

  “To keep me from hurtin’ myself? Just imagine how many stitches I could bust fightin’ off orderlies. More important, imagine how much damage I’ll do to the poor fellas you send for me.”

  The uncertainty was plain on her face as she looked me over. “I need you back in bed. What’s it going to take?”

  I looked at Elora’s sleepin’ form, then back at the doc. “Bring the bed in here. I’ll get in it and stay.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her, pursed her lips, looked at Nurse Mean Face, and tapped her foot before sayin’, “I have your word on that?”

  I smiled before realizin’ that smilin’ hurt the stitches on my face. “Aye. You have my word. Now about the whiskey.”

  “No whiskey,” she said flatly and I surmised that I should be content with the battle won. I could always ask Kay for it when next I saw him. For a berserker, and a big one at that, Kay was a softie at heart.

  “Water.”

  “Water we can do. In fact we encourage it.”

  “See there. We agree. That was no’ so hard.”

  She smiled and I realized that perhaps I could still be charmin’ even with a jagged scar runnin’ down my face. I nodded at her to convey my easy-goin’ good naturedness.

  When the bed was rolled in, I sat down on the side, drank half a pitcher of water, then with great care and a world of hurt, settled myself back to resume the tellin’ of Elora’s tales.

  I can no’ say when I went to sleep, but someone had taken the pages from my hands durin’ the night. As soon as I remembered where I was and why I was there, I turned my head to make sure Elora was alright.

  What I saw lookin’ back at me dumped the chill of ice water into my veins, but I drew on every bit of discipline The Order had taught me to control my expression and no’ show my true feelin’s on my face. Elora’s irises were so pale they were almost without color.

  More than any person has ever wanted anything, I needed to believe the creature starin’ at me was still Elora Laiken. Everything I knew to be true about vampire told me she was gone, replaced by a mindless creature with no trace of herself left. But the fact that she was lyin’ quietly gave me enough hope to venture a test in the form of conversation. If she could have a dialogue, she was still in there.

  “Hey,” I said quietly.

  She swallowed, then whispered, “Hey,” in a ragged voice. “Are we alive?”

  I was so relieved I wanted to sink to the floor, get on my knees, and thank Paddy, all the while sobbin’ for joy. But that would no’ be in the best interest of the crystalline-eyed beauty lyin’ next to me.

  So instead, I said, “Seems we are destined to die of old age, you and I.”

  “What fun would that be?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but felt a burnin’ behind my eyes and my vocal chords did no’ seem to care to respond. After several tries, I was finally able to get out a single syllable answer.

  “Lots,” was what I said. And I’d never meant anything more. A few weeks before I had no’ especially cared how long I lived. Now I was findin’ myself wantin’ every minute I could get with my mate. Old age? Aye and aye again.

  I swung my legs toward Elora, sat up and slid off the bed.

  I heard her quick intake of breath and looked up. “Rammel. Oh, gods no, Ram! What’s wrong with your face?”

  “Well,” I said, thinkin’ that my face was the least of our problems, “I guess I’m no’ so pretty anymore.”

  Something came over her face that was hard to read, but that was quickly followed by tears that ran from her eyes and fell on the pillow, breakin’ my heart in their trail.

  “Let me see,” she said.

  I was no’ sure if ‘twas the best thing, but I did no’ have a good enough reason to say no. So I opened the blue cotton gown and let her see the jagged path of the knife, made even uglier by the ‘cure’ of stitches.

  The way she looked at my body made me almost want to cry with her. I retied the gown and looked down, feelin’ a little bit ashamed of the ugliness.

  “Yes. You are, Ram - so pretty.” Her beautiful bottom lip trembled as she battled catches in her breath that sounded like a series of little sobs. “Beau
tiful inside and out.”

  That made a whole new lump form in my throat, bigger than the last. I could no’ stand her tears.

  “Please do no’ weep, Elora. Great Paddy, you will make me bawl as well.”

  I stepped closer so I could stand next to her bed, reached out and brushed tears away with my thumb. I hated seein’ her cry and did no’ want it to become a habit.

  “I’ll be right back.” I shoved my feet into the hospital-issue slippers they’d left for me because the bare floor was cold and shuffled my way to the door. I looked back once just to make sure that I was no’ imaginin’ what I was seein’. So far as I knew, there had never been a case of someone bein’ infected by the vampire virus and keepin’ their wits about them. It seemed everything about Elora Laiken was new territory.

  When I approached the nurses’ station, they looked up surprised, and started to say something. I held up my hand to stop them, leaned over as far as possible without reinjurin’ myself and said quietly, “Get the docs on duty here right now. Be quick about it and quiet as you can be.”

  One of the nurses jumped up, sendin’ her wheeled office chair careenin’ into a file cabinet, and hurried off to find the duty docs.

  ‘Twas then I caught sight out of the corner of my eye of someone about to enter Elora’s room. I gave myself a burst of speed without regard to consequences or pain, caught the nurse by the arm and jerked her back before she’d got the door open. She cried out, either in surprise or pain. I may have wrenched her hard enough to bruise, but I could no’ let anyone in that room before they were prepared for what they’d see.

  “No one goes into her room until I’ve talked to the doctors.”

  The nurse rubbed her arm with wide eyes and backed away just as the two on-duty doctors arrived.

  The first said, “Sir Hawking, why are you out of bed? What is the emergency?”

  The second, seein’ the look on the nurse’s face who’d been manhandled by me, said, “Now look here. You have simply got to stop terrorizing the staff.”

  I pulled them toward the wall, then lookin’ at the nurse, I said, “I need to speak with the doctors privately.”