“You mean, if you can do anything for her?” Paris asked.
“That and how much her brain can do for itself. The brain is an amazing organ and it can re-wire itself. We’ve seen it with patients who’ve sustained serious trauma. But there’s a limit to how fast it can go and how much it can do. Yes, Jade has a lot of power. But I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to use all of it without consequence. If you think of it in terms of electricity, yes, you can keep increasing the load and sending more and more current down a wire. But the wire can only take so much. You can add more wires, more switches, more breakers, but you’re going to run out of physical space. There’s a finite limit to what you can do. There may be a very real, very finite limit to what Jade can do as well. No matter how much magic she has.”
She ended with a gentle smile, the type of expression doctors reserve for people when they have bad news. “We can keep an eye on her medically tonight, but I think she’ll probably sleep for a few hours more. I’ll run some tests when she wakes up and I can discuss this with her, if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “It’s magic. Magic should come from me.”
Gellar nodded as though it was expected. “Okay. There’s a really busted up chair in my office that looks horrendous, but is actually pretty good for sleeping and there’s some extra gurneys about if you want to catch some sleep yourself.”
He thanked her and she popped her head in for one last check on Jade before she left. The technician finished up with Jade’s cast and Paris took the opportunity to let himself into the room to check on her.
She had a large white bandage on her forehead and he could see little bits of stubble from the edges of where they’d shaved a bit into her hairline to expose the entire wound. Her clothes had been taken and she was dressed in a sickly green gown that gave her a sallow tone. A black cast encased her broken wrist, her pale fingers sticking out the top, long and pink. She had the completely relaxed and limp face of someone utterly asleep. On her good hand, her fingers twitched slightly and then settled again. He glanced around and saw one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that was usually around in medical facilities and he pulled it up. He could sit for a few minutes and then think about his longer term plans.
Most notably, how to stop at least two demons and a witch.
*
Jade awoke with a start, jerking upright in bed which made her head pound like a freight train.
Ow. She went to press her hands against her temple and stopped short when she saw the fiberglass cast on her right wrist. She tapped it a bit with her left fingers. After having so many as a child, she felt like an expert on casts. She flexed her right fingers and rotated her arm a bit. Well done - snug but not tight. It wouldn’t need a replacement when the swelling went down. She touched her fingers gingerly to the painful spot on her head, feeling gauze and bandage and then the prickle of shaved skin.
Motherfucker. That was her hair.
It wasn’t like she was particularly vain, but a shaved patch wasn’t going to be something that she could cover or that would even go away quickly. She’d be growing that out for months. She felt her eyes sting a bit with tears. It was such a stupid thing to cry over and she felt like an idiot for even caring. She’d survived - whatever the hell that was - relatively intact and if all she had to show for it was a cast and little bald spot, she should be grateful.
She would be grateful.
She’d be even more grateful once that patch grew in. Ugh.
In a ritual born from waking up after getting the shit kicked out of her by her dad, Jade closed her eyes and took a mental inventory of her body. Despite the cast, her arms and legs felt functional. Fingers and toes wiggled easily. She moved her neck a bit and her head throbbed as she did. Okay, so the head was a problem. She felt like her brain was bruised - not in the true medical sense but in the way that a headache or a migraine left parts of your head feeling tender and battered. Jade stretched her muscles a little bit. Nothing else broken or even cut up, just knocked around and sore. People in movies always got up and moved around after getting tossed about and they might have a busted up lip or a black eye but you hardly ever heard anyone complain that they just hurt all over.
But she hurt all over.
And she was in a hospital gown. Yuck. She glanced around for her clothes and didn’t see anything.
Satisfied that she was going to live, but that it would really suck for the next week or so, Jade started taking an inventory of her surroundings. She recognized the medical area immediately from her first visit. She was in one of the small examination rooms - the area was uncluttered and neat.
Paris slept in a really hideous over-stuffed chair - head back, neck exposed, legs stretched out in front of him.
He’d be lucky if he could move his neck in the morning with the position he was in. An open laptop rested on his thighs and whatever was going for a screensaver made a strange pattern of light dance across his face.
“Paris,” she said, her vocal chords feeling raspy and raw when she spoke, her voice coming out lower than normal.
He sat up immediately and looked directly at her, wincing as he tried to right his neck.
“You’re awake,” he said, blurting the obvious.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He checked his watch. “A little past two in the morning. How do you feel? Do you need the doctor?”
He made a move like he was going to get up but she stopped him with a little shake of her head, grimacing as the movement brought back the pounding.
“No, I’m okay. Where are my clothes?”
Paris looked somewhat apologetic. “I think your shirt was cut off because of your arm and it was fairly bloody from your head.” He gestured to her head wound. “Your shoes and pants, I’m not sure.”
She liked that hoodie. She’d spent three good years breaking it in. “Ugh, hospital types are always so eager with the snip-snip.” She made a cutting motion with her good hand. “I’ve lost more clothes to scissor-happy nurses than you would believe.”
He pulled the chair closer to the bed, coming up beside her.
“Jade, do you remember what happened?”
She swallowed, the events in the bathroom coming immediately to mind. She wasn’t one of those people that had lapses in memory or pretended she didn’t remember things. She may not want to talk about events, but she always remembered, no matter how hard she tried to forget.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “The mirror… It wobbled, or waved. Not like,” she said, waving her hand to demonstrate, “but like a wave of water. Like it wasn’t solid.” She picked at some imaginary threads on the sheet of the bed and swallowed. “And there were these… Hands, I guess. They were strong. They came out of mirror like they were made of the mirror. Quicksilver. They grabbed me and they pulled.”
He shifted a bit closer. “How did you fight back?”
A weak laugh escaped her. “Very badly. I just… Pulled backwards. Tried to keep from getting yanked in. It tried to yank me, whatever it was. But my head…” She touched the bandage. “When my head hit, the mirror was solid. I don’t know if it could have pulled me in, but I wasn’t about to find out. I called as much fire as I could and then…” She made an explosion motion with her fingertips. “Ka-boom. It all started burning.” She looked down at her fingers. “The mirror took the longest. I wasn’t sure it was going to go. I put everything I had in that.” She shrugged. “I guess it worked.”
“Some of our witches were examining the restroom and we think it was another demon. Different from the first one, but a demon nevertheless, trying to pull you through.”
Another laugh punched out of her chest, thin and tight. “Fantastic. Another one.”
Paris’ hands rested on the bed, close to her hip but not touching. “This one wasn't nearly as powerful as the first. We think it’s probably the one the first demon was talking about, the one who’s working with a witch to take your power.”
> “We should really give them names,” she said dryly. “You know, if there’s going to be more than one, it’s going to get tricky. Demon number one, demon number two.” She rubbed at her eyes, feeling the grit of the long day and night settling in deep. “We can call them Bob and Doug.” She snorted to herself. God she was tired.
“Well, ‘Doug’,” Paris said, and just from his tone, she could hear the air quotes around the name, “wasn’t able to pull you through. From what I understand, that means you’ve got a very strong anchor here, in our dimension. Can you think of what that might be?”
She blinked at him. Her head throbbed, but the lights were dim so she didn’t need to squint. “Like what? Like an object or my credit card bill?”
“I’m very serious,” he admonished.
“So am I. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve got on that thing. Trust me, if anyone wants to keep me around, it’s Visa.”
“I was thinking more like a close family member. Your parents?”
“No.” Jade probably answered him too quickly, too harshly but she couldn’t take the word back now.
“You aren’t close to-”
She cut him off as there was no way she was discussing her parents with him. “Just… No. Trust me. Unless a strong anchor can be born of mutual apathy, resentment and animosity, in which case, we’re your family.”
He studied her for a moment and she made herself hold his gaze, keeping her expression as neutral and bored as she could.
“No, it would be a deeper connection than that. No other family?”
Jade shook her head. “No. Not that I’m close to. Some cousins, but I don’t know them really.”
Paris hmm’d and she got the impression he didn’t believe her. Well, she couldn’t help that. It was the truth. She didn’t have any close family and if she and her parents had their way, it would stay like that.
She rubbed at one of her shoulders, feeling a knot settling in and her stomach growled. She was too exhausted to think about getting food. But staying in bed wasn’t going to solve her problems. If she wanted something done, she was going to have to do it herself.
Jade whipped back the covers, swinging her legs off to the side of the bed.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” he asked, standing and crowding toward her.
“I’m getting up, I’m finding some pants and then…” She trailed off and looked around, feeling lost and unsure suddenly. “Oh fuck, I don’t even know. Can I borrow a car or something?” She could hear the almost whining tone in her voice and she hated it. She just wanted to be able to do something, take care of herself.
Paris made a motion to push her back toward the bed. “You should go back to sleep. We can figure it all out in the morning.”
Jade slumped in the bed. She hated hospitals. They smelled and they were uncomfortable and there was always some draft coming from somewhere. People moving about and then some nurse would be in three or four times to check your temperature or your stitches and chastise you for still being awake. But how could you sleep with people coming in and out?
She hugged her arms around herself. “This sucks,” she said emphatically.
He stared at her intently for a moment, like he was measuring something.
“What?” she finally said, her tone snippy.
“If you’re desperate, I can talk with Gellar and see if she’ll release you tonight.”
She wanted to jump at the chance, even if she was feeling like a sack of beaten potatoes. She just didn’t know where she would go. Jade wondered if she’d get anymore sleep in a hotel, paranoid and worried over another demon attack or if she should just suck it up and try to sleep in the medical unit.
“Although,” Paris said, continuing his thought, “it’s probably not a good idea for you to be on your own and I’m not trying to be controlling or overbearing.” He added the last bit quickly, somehow managing not to make it sound patronizing or disdainful.
“No. I know,” she grudgingly admitted. He was totally right. She didn’t want to be alone but she just didn’t know what to do about it.
“If you’re amenable, you may stay with me.”
Jade glanced up sharply at him and gave him a suspicious look.
“I have a guest room,” he said, clarifying.
She still eyeballed him a little sideways, gauging his intent. He seemed earnest and honest and she didn’t get a sketchy vibe off him.
“I do have some anti-demon wards we can test out. Hannah found some success with her research.”
That did sweeten the deal and she didn’t know why she was wary - it was a good offer. She would be with the guy who was reportedly the most powerful witch in the Coven, she wouldn’t be alone, and she might even get a real bed in which to sleep.
Jade pursed her lips. “Is there anything open this late? Can we get, like, drive thru or something?”
Paris smiled. “We should be able to rustle something up.”
She watched him for another moment until she finally relented. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated, his head nodding once.
“I’m still gonna need some pants.”
*
Paris managed to find her some scrubs, convinced Gellar to release her and even found her shoes. They had a little bit of blood on them and were still a whole lot wet from the fire sprinklers, but they were hers. They were cold and clammy as she pushed her feet in and wiggled her toes against the wet canvas. She took a sweater he offered without protest, even though she felt a bit weird about putting on clothes that were obviously his. She kept wanting to insist no, no, I’m fine, but the truth was she was cold; the pervasive kind of chill that settles into your skin and bones when you’re overly tired and need to sleep.
The ride home was silent, the low rumble of the engine and the constant hum of Paris’ magic lulling her into a light doze until she heard the telltale squawk box of a drive-thru and she snapped immediately awake to order a bagel and a small coffee.
“It’s not like a truckload of this would keep me awake at this point,” she groused at his look, taking a sip of the hot beverage. Stuffing the bagel into her mouth in big bites that she had to really work her jaw around, she spotted her reflection in the passenger side window. Shit. Outside of Animal Planet, it was one of the most hideous things she’d seen - bandaged, exhausted, cast on the hand trying to hold a bagel and coffee in the other.
Fantastic. She’d be winning beauty competitions for sure.
They pulled up to Paris’ house - a Tudor style home that completely suited him and would probably grace the covers of some magazine with an inane title like Coven Witch Weekly and feature a double spread of the manicured potting garden outside. It was beautiful even with all the greenery dying off in the fall air, the last stray bloom tucked close against the night.
The inside was very sparse.
No knick-knacks, no tchotchkes, no clutter anywhere. He seemed to prefer functional furniture made out of dark material - leather or some kind of substitute - and some end and sofa tables, also dark.
There were only three things hanging on the wall; one was a painting of the ocean - choppy waves and dark sky, like it was going to rain. It was large, framed in a deep cherry wood and she found herself staring at it as they walked in. She’d never liked water, never learned to swim, never wanted to go to a pool. Looking at this painting was exactly why. It was shadowy, treacherous and powerful. With a slight shiver, she turned away.
The next picture along the living room wall was a landscape of an open prairie sky - pale blue and wheat yellow stretching out in an unimaginable expanse. She liked that one better. There was so much space and no one and nothing around for miles.
The last picture was of winding tree roots, turning and churning into the earth, rolling over top of one another in a beautiful yet almost grotesque twist. There were some splotches of dark mossy growths on the ground, clinging to the tree roots desperately.
She looked along the wall,
taking in the three paintings quickly again.
“You’re missing fire,” she said. Her voice echoed in the mostly empty space. There really wasn’t enough furniture to fill the wide living room, and the hardwood floors did nothing but bounce the sound around.
“Pardon?” Paris asked, shutting and locking the door as he came in behind her.
She gestured with her good hand. “Water, air, earth. You’re missing fire.”
His eyes flickered over the paintings quickly. “They belonged to my mother. I don’t know where she got them. I think they’re all by the same artist, but I don’t know why there isn’t one for fire.”
“Huh. Maybe she thought they looked better in threes,” Jade mused. “But I would think for a witch, she’d want all four. Aren’t you guys big on balance and representation?”
“If it’s meant to be representative of magic, then yes, there should be a fourth painting. But perhaps she only meant it decoratively.”
He led her up the stairs, hovering right behind her, too close for her liking. But the truth was, she did feel a little shaky and tired so she didn’t say anything and she let herself be directed upwards and then along a short hallway to a quaint bedroom. He opened the door for her and flicked on the light.
“Extra blankets are in the closet, the bathroom’s one door over on the left,” he said, stepping back and leaving room for her to enter. It was sparse like the lower level, but the bed was a double and had a fat, white duvet. It looked like it would be ridiculously fluffy and soft and she wanted to weep just thinking about lying down and feeling it settle on her.
“Can I get you anything?”
She pointed awkwardly to the mirror above the room’s dresser. “Does that… I mean, can it come down?”
He glanced over quickly and nodded once, striding over and pulling it from the wooden slats it rested in. He even flipped it away from her, facing his body.
“Uh, is there anything else that could suddenly grow hands or be in any way used as a portal to Demon Land?” She paused and looked hard at the bed. “Like under the bed?” She felt about six years old all over again staring at the dark, black space between the box-spring and the floor.
Trial by Fire (Covencraft Book 1) Page 17
