by Kim Harrison
“Are you okay?” I asked Glenn, truly concerned. He looked so far out of character. The ex-military man in him peeked through when he forced himself to sit straighter, his face freshly shaved, the scent of shampoo coming faintly to me.
“I will be,” he said around a heavy breath. “You went after them?”
“You know it.”
“You touched the baby?” he asked, and I snorted. “Don’t touch the baby,” he intoned, and the corners of my mouth lifted.
“Don’t touch the baby,” I echoed, realizing that that was probably what had downed him.
“It’s the baby who’s got the witch doctors so messed up,” Glenn said, almost crossing his knees before remembering he was in a peekaboo gown. “They tell me that a banshee child has no control until she’s about five. But that man was holding her when I talked to him.”
Jenks’s wings clattered for attention. “We saw him holding Holly, too. His aura was fine. I saw it. So did Rachel.”
I nodded, not making any sense out of it. “Maybe she just wasn’t hungry.”
“Maybe,” Glenn said, “but she drained me fast enough. You, too.”
Ivy went to sit on the long bench under the window. “So what did happen in that house?” she said as she looked out, and I swear she was trying to change the subject. Her lips were parted, and her breathing was a shade too fast. Her eyes, too, held a hint of…guilt?
Glenn made an ugly face. “I went to talk to the suspect about the death of my friend.”
Suspect, I thought, hearing the ugliness of the word. She wasn’t “Ms. Harbor,” or “the lady,” or even “the woman,” but “the suspect.” Then again, Mia had probably killed his friend, put Glenn in the hospital, and allowed her daughter to almost kill me. “I’m sorry,” I said, and he grimaced, not wanting the sympathy.
“Her husband didn’t like some of my questions. Remus, is it?” Glenn asked, and when Ivy nodded, he continued. “Remus tried to bully me out the door. Took a swing at me, and we knocked about the house. I actually had him handcuffed, and then—”
“You touched the baby,” Jenks said from somewhere in the flowers.
Glenn looked at his knees, covered with that blue diamond print. “I touched the baby.”
“Don’t touch the baby,” I said, trying to ease the tension. No wonder Mia didn’t let anyone touch Holly. Not to mention her not wanting any more kids until Holly had grown and had some control. Right now, she was like the walking plague. But Remus could hold her. What made him special?
Glenn shifted his feet in those slipper socks they give you. His were blue. “The baby put me out, not Remus,” he said. “Once I fell down, I kept falling. I think he beat me slowly so they could suck it all up. If it hadn’t been for the badge, I think they would have killed me and tried to hide the body.” Seeing the horror in my eyes, he attempted to smile. “But you look great,” he said, gesturing. “Maybe witches have thicker auras.”
“Maybe,” I said, unable to look at anyone. Of course I looked better. I hadn’t had a psychopath maul me for the feeding pleasure of his family.
Standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, Marshal seemed to gather himself. “Rachel, I have to go,” he said, not unexpectedly. “I’ve got some stuff to do this afternoon, and I just stopped by to make sure you were okay.” His feet shuffled, and he added, “I’ll, um, see you later.”
Glenn leaned back, cutting short his motion to cross his legs when he remembered the hospital gown. “Don’t leave because of me,” he said, his body language not matching his words. “I have to get back to my room before I’m missed. They don’t like it when us rough men go past the nurses’ desk and into the women’s area.”
Marshal shifted back and forth; then, as if making a decision, he leaned close and gave me an awkward hug. Uneasy, I returned it, hoping he wasn’t trying to shift our relationship simply because I was vulnerable and he had helped me with Tom. Tom was small potatoes to what could come crashing into my kitchen. But the scent of redwood was comforting, plucking a need to go back to my roots, and I breathed it in deep.
“I’ll see you later,” he said earnestly. “I’m still checking into your classes, but if there’s anything I can do, shopping, errands, just call me.”
I smiled, touched by his concern. My mom’s warning that he was a good diversion, not a good decision, echoed through me, but so did the entire comfortable evening spent with her, my brother, and Marshal. Marshal was a nice guy, and I didn’t often have the chance to do stuff with nice guys. I didn’t want to endanger him by close association, but what came out of my mouth was “I will. ’Bye, Marshal. Thanks for the flowers.”
He nodded, waving before going with his head lowered, leaving the door open a crack.
Glenn took in Ivy and Jenks eyeing me as if in disapproval. Clearing his throat, he said, “You’re taking classes? That’s great. Crime scene etiquette, perhaps?”
I rubbed my eyebrow, feeling a headache coming on. “Ley lines,” I said. “There was a mix-up at the registrar’s office. Marshal is trying to work it out.”
“That’s not all he’s trying to work out,” Jenks muttered, and I scowled at him when he shifted to the mums. The scent of a summer meadow grew heavy, and pollen streaked his green shirt. “He’s going to want to change things,” the pixy said, and Glenn leaned back, mouth shut, to listen. “You being in the hospital is going to jerk him into rescue mode. Just like on that boat of his. I saw it in him right after he yanked Tom out from under our kitchen. I’m a pixy, Rachel. I may look all tough and stuff, but I got wings, and I know infatuation when I see it.”
I sighed, not surprised he was warning me off Marshal. And what do wings have to do with it? “Well, he’s not helpless,” I said defensively. “Tagging a ley line witch is hard.”
Jenks crossed his arms and frowned. Ivy put the giraffe down and eyed me, too.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I muttered, but my thoughts went zinging to Mia standing in the dark with her wailing child clutched to her, telling me that I’d never love anyone without killing them. “He deserves someone better than me. I know the drill.”
Ivy moved uneasily, and shoving my unhappy feeling away, I turned to Glenn. The detective was very adept at reading people, and this was embarrassing. “So, how’s the pudding?” I asked, reaching out and tossing the tomato to him.
Humans normally abhor tomatoes, seeing as it was a tomato that killed a good slice of their population a mere forty years ago. Glenn, however, had been shown the joys of the red fruit at fang point, and was now hooked. After his first panicked juggling to keep the tomato from hitting the ground, he cradled the fruit like a baby, in the crook of his arm.
“The pudding is nasty,” he said, glad for the shift in conversation. “It’s sugar free. And thank you. I don’t get many of these.”
“Inderland tradition,” I said, wondering if I’d missed breakfast and would have to wait another six hours. I had yet to see a menu, but they’d still feed me.
Ivy sat on the foot of the bed, more comfortable now that there was one less person in here. “Flowers from Trent?” she said, her eyebrows high as she handed me the card.
Surprised, I looked at the daisies as I took it. “Ceri sent them,” I said when I saw her absolutely tiny handwriting. “Trent probably doesn’t even know she put his name on the card.”
Jenks landed on my knee. “I bet he does,” he said with a guffaw, and then we all looked up at the smart knock on the door and the woman in street clothes walking in. She had a stethoscope, and I knew she was my doctor before she opened her mouth.
She stopped short, as if surprised by the number of people, then recovered. “Ms. Morgan,” she said as she came forward briskly. “I’m Dr. Mape. How are you feeling today?”
It was always the same question, and I smiled neutrally. I could tell by the lack of a redwood smell that even the most stringent antiseptics couldn’t cover that she wasn’t a witch. It was unusual that they’d let a human treat a witch with huma
n medicine, but if I’d been hit with the same thing as Glenn, I probably had his doctor. The thought seemed about right when Glenn shrank back in his chair with a guilty expression. The tomato, too, was in hiding somewhere. I didn’t want to know where. I truly didn’t.
“I’m feeling much better,” I said blandly. “What did they use to knock me out?”
Dr. Mape pulled the blood pressure cuff off the wall, and I obediently stuck my arm out. “I don’t know off the top of my head,” she said in a preoccupied voice as she squished my arm with air pressure. “I can look at your chart.”
I stared at the clock and tried to keep my pulse slow. “Don’t bother.” I knew amulets, not drugs. “Hey, can I get a work excuse?”
She didn’t answer, and Glenn jumped when she ripped the cuff from me. “Mr. Glenn,” she said pointedly, and I swear he held his breath. “You shouldn’t be walking this far yet.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said grumpily, and I hid a grin.
“Do I need to put a restriction on you?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“No, ma’am.”
“Wait for me outside,” the woman said severely. “I’ll walk you back.”
Ivy stirred from her corner. Cripes, I hadn’t even seen her move there. “I’ll help him to his room,” she offered, and the woman’s quick refusal died when she saw who it was.
“You’re Ivy Tamwood?” she asked, then wrote my blood pressure on my chart. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that. His aura isn’t thick enough to be mingling.”
Jenks rose up from the flowers, this time covered in pollen. “Aw, we’re all his friends,” the pixy said, shaking in midair to create a dust cloud.
Dr. Mape started. “What are you doing out of hibernation?” she asked, shocked.
I cleared my throat dryly. “He, uh, lives in my desk,” I offered, then shut my mouth when Dr. Mapes stuck a thermometer in it.
“I bet that’s fun,” the woman murmured as the instrument worked.
I shifted the probe to the other side of my mouth. “It’s his kids who drive me nuts,” I mumbled, and the thermometer beeped.
Again Dr. Mape made a note in my chart, then bent to look under the bed. “Your kidneys look fine,” she said. “I’m going to leave the IV in, but I’ll take the catheter out now.”
Glenn stiffened. “Uh, Rachel,” the man said uncomfortably. “I’ll see you around, okay? Give me a day before we go racing down the halls.”
Ivy got behind him, holding his gown shut as he reached for his IV and used it to haul himself up. “Jenks?” she said as they shuffled into motion. “Get your pixy ass in the hall.”
He gave me a lopsided grin, then buzzed out, making circles around Ivy and Glenn. The door eased shut, and his voice faded.
I started to scrunch down to make this as easy as possible, then stopped when Dr. Mape pulled Glenn’s chair back and sat, silently eyeing me. Suddenly I felt like a bug on a pin. She wasn’t saying anything, and finally I offered a hesitant “You’re going to take it out, right?”
The woman sighed and eased into a more comfortable position. “I wanted to talk to you, and this was the easiest way to get them to leave.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, and a ribbon of fear pulled through me, leaving prickles of unease. “I spent the first fifteen years of my life in hospitals, Dr. Mape,” I said boldly as I sat up. “I’ve been told I’m going to die more often than I have pairs of boots, and I have a lot of boots. There’s nothing you can say that’s going to throw me.” It was a lie, but it sounded good.
“You survived the Rosewood syndrome,” she said, flipping back in my chart. I stiffened when she reached for my wrist, turning it over and looking at the demon mark. “Maybe that’s why the banshee child didn’t kill you.”
Is she talking about my blood disease or my demon mark? Uneasy, I pulled my arm out of her grip. Either way, I was different, and not in a good way. “You think my aura tastes bad?”
Dr. Mape was looking at my hands, and I wanted to hide them. “I wouldn’t know,” she said. “From what I’ve been told, auras don’t have a taste. I do know a banshee child will take long past when she’s sated, and that’s more than enough to kill a person. You and Mr. Glenn are very lucky to be alive. Ms. Harbor keeps her child well fed.”
Well fed, my ass. She almost killed me.
Leaning back, Dr. Mape looked out my window and to the other wing. “She should be commended for raising a child to the age of reason, not hunted down like an animal when an accident occurs. Did you know that until a banshee reaches about the age of five, anyone who touches her aside from her mother is considered a food source? Even her own human father.”
“Is that so,” I said, thinking Remus had held her without a slip of his aura being taken, when everyone around was being slowly siphoned. “Forgive me if I’m not all flowers and hearts over her predicament. That woman handed Holly to me, knowing she would kill me. That child very nearly killed Glenn. Mia herself has killed people, they just haven’t tied them to her yet. I’m all for staying alive, but I don’t kill people to do it.”
Dr. Mape looked at me impassively. “Of course I sympathize with you and Mr. Glenn, but in most situations, banshees take only the dregs of society. I’ve seen much worse human-on-human predation, and what Mia did was for her survival.”
“In whose judgment?” I said snottily, then forced myself to relax. This was the woman who was going to give me my work excuse.
Again, Dr. Mape was untouched, and she leaned over to put an elbow on her knee so she could study me. “My question is why you suffered significantly less damage than Mr. Glenn. Humans and witches have the same aura strength.”
“Know all about us, huh?” I said, then bit my tongue. She’s not the enemy. She’s not the enemy.
“Actually, I do. That’s why I took you as a patient.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m sorry, Ms. Morgan. They won’t allow you on the witches’ floor anymore because of your demon scars. I’m all you’ve got.”
I stared at her. Excuse me? They wouldn’t treat me because of my demon scars? What did my scars have to do with it? It wasn’t like I was a black witch. “But you’ll treat me?” I said bitterly.
“I took a vow to protect life. The same belief that causes me to look upon that banshee mother with compassion is why I agreed to treat you. I’d rather judge a person on why they make the choices they do rather than the cold facts of what they choose.”
I settled back, wondering if it was wisdom or a cop-out. Dr. Mape stood, and my gaze followed her up. “I know Captain Edden from when his wife was attacked,” she said. “He told me how you got your demon marks. I’ve see what’s left of your aura. And now I’ve seen your friends. Pixies don’t give their loyalty lightly.”
I frowned as she turned to leave. Turning back, she asked, “Why do you think you came in semiconscious and Mr. Glenn remained unconscious for three days?”
“I don’t know.” I really didn’t think it was from the demon marks. If it had been, then black witches couldn’t be harmed by banshees, and I knew that wasn’t true. It had to be because I was a…a proto-demon, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“Your survival of the Rosewood syndrome?” she questioned. “That’s what my colleagues support.”
It was too close to what I suspected, and I forced myself to look at her and shrug.
She hesitated, to be sure I wasn’t going to say any more, then turned to leave.
“Hey, what about my catheter?” I shot after her, wanting some small part of myself back.
“I’ll have a nurse come in,” she said. “You’ll be staying with us for a few days, Ms. Morgan. I hope you feel comfortable enough to talk to me soon.”
My jaw dropped as she closed the door with a firm thump. So that was her game. She wouldn’t release me until I satisfied her curiosity. Well, to hell with that. I had stuff to do.
The faint, familiar clatter of dragonfly wings drew my attention to the top of the tall wardrobe.
“Jenks!” I said, warming. “I thought you were gone.”
He flitted down, darting back and forth before landing on my knee. “I’ve never seen a catheter taken out,” he said smugly.
“And you never will. God! Get out before the nurse gets here.” But he only moved to the flowers and started to take the dead bits off.
“You’re stuck here until you talk, eh?” he said. “Mind if Matalina and I borrow your jewelry box? We have got to get away from the kids for a while.”
“Euwie, Jenks!” I didn’t want to know. “I’m out of here as soon as I can stand up,” I said as I tried to get the thought of Matalina with her feet among my earrings out of my head. “Six o’clock at the latest.”
I stretched experimentally, wincing. One way or another, I was leaving. Al expected me for my lesson, and if I didn’t show up in the ley line, he’d track me down. A demon in a hospital would do wonders for my reputation. ’Course that was one way to get out of here.
Jenks turned, his clever hands folding a daisy petal up to hold a handful of pollen. “Yeah? You think they’re going to just let you walk out of here? Dr. Frankenstein wants you for her science experiment.”
I smiled, feeling my pulse begin to quicken and anticipation warm my blood all the way to my toes. “Walk out of here is exactly what I’m going to do. I didn’t spend my formative years in the hospital and learn nothing about how to sneak out.”
Jenks just smiled.
Thirteen
My curls were nearly dry, and moving irritatingly slowly, I used the comb in the hospital care kit to try to smooth out the tangles. The shampoo and cream rinse had been from the kit as well, and I wasn’t eager to find out how much cracking the thumb-size bottles was going to cost me. I was betting five bucks a bottle. It was worse than the amenities fridge in a five-star hotel. But asking Ivy to run home and get my stuff wasn’t going to happen. The less I was carting out of here, the less likely someone would realize I was a fleeing patient.
Before the Turn, you could ask for an AMA, or Against Medical Advice discharge, and be done with it. But after the quickly spreading pandemic had ravaged the population, legislation gleefully took away a lot of patients’ rights. Unless you did the paperwork ahead of time, it took forever and a day to get an AMA. If I wanted to leave, I had to sneak out. I’d likely have cops after me as the hospital tried to protect themselves from a lawsuit, but they’d go away once the AMA came in.
