Luminous

by Corrina Lawson

  He dumped a mound of eggs onto the plate she held out.

  “Forks are in that drawer near the sink.”

  She reached in, took a fork and leaned against the counter. She started eating right then and there, while the eggs were piping hot. She shoveled forkfuls into her mouth and finished them off in less than a dozen bites.

  When she set the plate on the counter, she finally noticed that Al was holding the sketchpad but he wasn’t looking at her sketch. He was staring at her.

  “That’s a hell of a thing, Noir.”

  “Yeah.” She put the empty plate into the sink.

  “I’m assuming you liked the eggs, since you certainly scarfed them up fast.”

  She froze. “I thought we were in a hurry?” She couldn’t tell if he was criticizing her or not.

  “Easy. I take it as a compliment to the chef.” He reached up a finger and brushed something off her cheek. “You have some egg right there.”

  She felt her face grow hot. It was probably bright red right now. For once, she was glad she was invisible so Al wouldn’t see her blush.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled. It was just that she wasn’t used to anyone touching her. Yeah, that must be it. It wasn’t like she could feel anything for anyone. Jill had battered that out of her. She put fingers on her face right where Al had touched her. It had made her feel human again. Al made her feel human.

  He put the pan in the sink and motioned her back to the living room. He sat down on the couch, sketchpad in hand, and pointed to the spot next to him. “Let’s go over this together. I want to understand it before we leave.”

  She sat down close enough to him that their hips were almost touching. He pulled a pair of black-rimmed glasses out of his blazer pocket. “Eyes are going on me. Let me tell you, Noir, forty is not the new thirty.”

  She snorted. “You don’t look forty.” His body sure as hell didn’t scream “forty”.

  “I’m getting too close to it for my comfort, that’s for sure.” He pointed to the main laboratory area on the sketch. “So, are these dimensions to scale?”

  She put her finger on the sketch. “I drew everything in proportion, but I’m not sure of the exact width or length.” She traced it with her fingertip. “The biggest piece of equipment, something she had for blood testing, was here.”

  “Uh…” Al cleared his throat. “I can’t see where you’re pointing.”

  “Right.” She should have put her gloves back on. She gently took Al’s finger and helped him trace the same area that she just had. She felt herself blushing again as she held his hand. His fingers were thick and warm.

  “Ah, got it. Thanks.” His voice sounded a little rough.

  He leaned back and studied it once more.

  “Shouldn’t we get going? Clock’s ticking on our missing teller.”

  “Like I said, stumbling in the dark isn’t going to do us any good.”

  Us. He’d just said us. Stupid that one word lightened her mood.

  “So?”

  “Normally, I’d go into the office to see if I can get my piece-of-junk computer to give me a list of vacant buildings that have this much square footage. And I’d look for higher-than-normal electric bills. And I’d ask the people around those buildings if they’d seen anything like Jack. I don’t suppose you have a photo of Jill?”

  “I can draw her.”

  He handed her back the pad and pencil. She went to work.

  “You said ‘normally’ you’d do that. So you want to do something different tonight?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “If it was daytime, I’d also start calling medical supply places and see if any of them can put names to the machines and if they sold any recently.”

  She finished the sketch and handed it to him. He stared for a second. “She doesn’t look much like Jack.”

  “She’s still a monster, just like him. So what’s next if we can’t call medical supply houses?”

  He stood up and tucked the sketchpad under his arm. “We go with a backup plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “To the only place open at this hour that might have people who know where to get that kind of medical equipment.”

  “Where?” A twenty-four-hour pharmacy? But pharmacists wouldn’t know anything about medical testing equipment.

  “Charlton City Hospital’s ER,” he said. “If we get lucky, the head trauma doctor can help us.”

  A hospital. Needless and IVs and medical equipment. Shit.

  “A city ER. That’s a hell of a place to take someone who’s been tortured by a doctor, Al.”

  “Sometimes you have to go to hell to catch the bad guys, Noir.”

  Chapter Three

  Noir was silent in the car as they drove to the hospital. Al wondered if he would’ve realized she was even in the car if she’d undressed and been completely hidden from sight. An odd thought, to be sitting next to a gorgeous naked woman—judging by how she filled out all that black leather—and not even know it.

  He hoped he would have known if someone was that close to him, invisible or not. But he hadn’t detected Noir at the bank or noticed her slipping into his place. He could maybe chalk that up to the confusion at that scene. But she’d also learned how to be almost impossibly still. Even her breathing was quiet.

  She’d learned not to trust anyone, either, hence her refusal to give her real name. He believed that she’d been hurt and abused. Her story was too detailed and there had been too much emotion in her voice for her to be making it up. And there was the whole freaky invisibility thing. No one could fake that.

  Of course, just because she believed her full story was true didn’t mean it was actually true. Memory could do screwy things.

  Especially if someone had made you invisible.

  That’d be enough to make him question his own sanity. He hoped it had not driven this woman crazy. He liked her. He couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it had been the way she’d scarfed up the eggs or the way she’d relaxed once she’d realized he was listening.

  Noir had expected him to be repulsed or terrified of her. That told him all he needed to know about how people usually reacted when they saw—well, didn’t see—what was under her clothes. He understood why she dressed in all that menacing black leather. She wanted to keep people at a distance. But that didn’t explain one thing.

  “Why the cape?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  He wondered if she’d been asleep or lost in thought. He had no way to know the difference with her hidden under those layers.

  “I asked why you wear the cape. You don’t need it.”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s useful as a blanket. And it’s good for covering me when I’m invisible. It just looks like a lump of cloth, not a person. And…”

  Al waited for her to fill in the rest, but she went silent again. “And…what?”

  “And it’s good just to have an extra layer, especially since I don’t know where I’m sleeping next.”

  That hadn’t been what she’d been about to say but he let it go. If he could get her to trust him, she’d tell him more later. But her explanation made sense for now.

  Procedure said he shouldn’t be taking a witness to investigate. Procedure said he shouldn’t get personally involved with a witness, like, say, cooking for her.

  But there was no procedure covering what to do with an invisible woman who claimed that a crazy scientist and a genetically altered monster were behind four gruesome murders.

  No, it was far better to keep Noir close until this was all over. They’d rescue the hostage—at least try—and then he’d get her to the right doctor, one who could help, at least with her memory. How the hell anyone would help with that invisibility thing, he’d no idea.

  She probably could use a shrink too. It was way beyond his job description to fix her. Hell, he suspected before this was all over, he might need one as well.

  Though Noir had seemed refreshingly levelheaded in a lot of ways. She’d known to come
to a cop when she’d been stymied in her own search for Jack. She’d been gentle with tracing his hand over the drawing. And she was talented, he could see that in the details of her sketches.

  She was one tough son of a bitch, and he wanted to help her any way he could.

  And that, he told himself, had nothing to do with the way she filled out the black leather or how soft her cheek had felt.

  He pulled his unmarked car into a no-parking zone near the hospital ER and tossed the “Charlton City PD” sign onto his dashboard. He handed her the sketchbook. It disappeared under her cloak. “Bring that, follow me and stay quiet. It can get a little crazy in there.”

  “I’m not helpless.”

  “Never said you were.” And if she had watched him at the crime scene, she wasn’t squeamish either. But dead bodies were one thing. The injured living were another. She’d already said this was the last place she wanted to be. Given her stories of medical torture, he didn’t blame her.

  Al had hoped for some semblance of order in the ER so Doc Leslie would have time to talk to them.

  But it was apparent the second they walked inside that tonight was one of those nights when Charlton City spat out the injured and sick like a child spitting out green beans.

  It was the sounds that got to Al more than anything else. A child was crying in the background. Moans filled the air. Another kid was bawling. He couldn’t distinguish if the kid cried from his own pain or from the fear of someone else in pain. Tense mumbling undercut all the moans. Al took a breath and smelled blood and sweat mixed with the antiseptic of the hospital.

  One person moved easily through the chaos, like the prow of a ship cutting through a great wave.

  Dr. Fred Leslie zipped from person to person, assessing. He asked a few questions of each potential patient. At the end of the brief interrogation, Leslie would do one of two things. Either he gestured to the nurse at his side to move the patient behind the curtains up at the far end of the room or he told the patient to sit and wait and help would come.

  Leslie’s brisk tone was commanding enough that none of the patients ordered to wait talked back.

  Al had seen Leslie work the ER this way before. The doctor appeared callous, but this was the only way. The informal triage made sure the patients who needed help the most were treated first.

  If Leslie made a wrong call about the severity of a patient’s condition, someone could and would die. A cop’s job could be rough, but Al was glad his every decision didn’t hold that kind of power. He’d no idea how Leslie carried that burden.

  The hospital was overcrowded and understaffed. For these people here tonight, Leslie was their last, best hope.

  “Leslie!”

  The yell came from someone behind the curtained area.

  Leslie cut off his assessment of a patient and rushed behind the curtain. Al moved closer to where Leslie had gone. This was the section where the worst cases were assessed more carefully and admitted, if needed.

  Noir moved with Al, at his side like a dark shadow.

  Leslie barked several orders in a desperate tone that Al could hear through the curtains. There was a rush of movement around the hapless patient.

  Then it all went silent.

  Leslie swore quietly under his breath. Al leaned to see through an opening in the curtain. Everyone was removing equipment from a very large and—unfortunately—very dead man with tattoos rippling from his wrists to his shoulders.

  Al recognized several of the tats as gang signatures. His gaze flicked to the people waiting in one corner of the ER. By their demeanor and tats, they were members of the same gang. They wouldn’t be happy about the death of one of their own, to say the least. And the hospital had shit security, meaning anyone could probably sneak a weapon in here.

  Al unbuttoned his overcoat and set his hand on his service weapon. He slid closer to the group of gang members. This time, he didn’t feel Noir move with him. Smart of her to stay back. He doubted that her leather jacket was made of Kevlar. He wished he was wearing his bulletproof vest.

  The waiting gang members didn’t notice him. Instead, they were focused on Leslie, who was striding toward them. Strictly speaking, the doctor didn’t have to be the one to inform them of the death. Dangerous or not, Leslie would not put that job off on someone else.

  Al almost felt bad for those waiting. From the expressions on their faces, they were hoping against hope that their friend wasn’t dead.

  No one ever liked to think someone they loved was dead. Even the worst of the worst were loved.

  Al got close enough to hear Leslie break the news. “I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “The damage was too extensive. He’s passed away.”

  Al saw tears spring to the eyes of one of the members. Another swore loudly.

  Two of them screamed at Leslie and flicked open knives they’d hidden under their clothing.

  “This is your fault, Doc.” One of them jabbed the knife in Leslie’s direction.

  The doctor stepped back. The two men rushed him.

  Al leapt forward and tackled one of the gang members from behind. The man hit the floor with a thud, and Al handcuffed him in one quick motion. With his knee in the back of the first attacker, Al drew his gun and aimed it at the second man. “Police! Stop now!”

  The attacker hesitated. Al felt sweat run down his back. “Drop the knife!”

  Noir stepped between the doctor and his assailant. “Back off,” she said quietly.

  What the hell was she doing? She’d blocked his clear shot.

  “Fuck you.” The attacker lunged at Noir, swinging the knife in a wicked arc.

  Al cursed. He had no clear shot. He heard the sound of a zipper opening. A blinding light filled the entire room.

  Al scrunched his eyes shut against the brilliance, desperately trying to keep his gun level. Others around him gasped and screamed. Time seemed to stop. They were all trapped in a world of light so overwhelming that it seeped past his eyelids. Nothing existed but white.

  A split-second later, the light vanished, just as suddenly at it had appeared. Al blinked to get rid of the spots in his eyes. The ER seemed the same as before save that the second assailant was now on the floor, holding his head in his hands. His knife lay where it had fallen a few inches away, forgotten.

  Al sprang forward and grabbed the knife. He flicked it shut. Leslie yelled for someone to help his would-be attacker, now reduced to just another patient. Hospital security finally arrived and took the handcuffed gang member off Al’s hands while nurses attended the other. The remaining gang members milled about, silent now like most of the others in the ER.

  When Al finally surveyed the whole room, he spotted Noir standing against the wall, the cape completely covering everything below her shoulders.

  The blinding light had flared when she’d stepped in front of Leslie. It had something to do with her.

  He walked over to Noir. “What the hell did you do?” he whispered.

  She shrugged. “You wanted to know why I have the cape, right?” She drew aside the cloth a fraction of an inch. A thin sliver of that blinding light glowed through the opening.

  “This happens sometimes, especially when I’m scared. I glow. It’s better than any flare gun.”

  “It sure as hell is brighter. It’s like a flash-bang grenade without the bang. But why didn’t that happen when you were in my apartment?”

  “I wasn’t scared at your place.”

  “So when you’re afraid, you, um, glow? For how long?”

  He cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure he could handle any more freakiness today. Somehow, this made her seem more otherworldly than the invisibility. With that glow, she seemed less human and more like an angel.

  “I don’t know. It started happening after I escaped. I think it’s something about adrenaline that triggers it. Sometimes the light is blinding, like tonight, sometimes it’s more muted.”

  She said it casually, but he could hear the confusion anyway. “Wait a m
inute. If you’re not sure about what triggers it and sometimes the glow is muted, how did you know it would work to save Leslie?”

  “I didn’t. I gambled that I’d be scared enough by the knife to glow.”

  Damn. Was she that courageous or was she that damaged that she didn’t care about dying? He hoped it was the former. “So how long does it last?”

  “The glow lasts about ten minutes. Until then, the light will shine through even my zippers. It gets through anything not completely solid.”

  “That definitely explains the cape. You’ve got a nasty weapon there.”

  “It’s not a weapon, it’s a side effect of a crazy scientist who likes playing God. Anyway, it’s unpredictable, like I said. And it’s not like I can shoot death rays at people.”

  Which was a very good thing. He suspected there were some people that Noir wouldn’t hesitate to murder. Al cleared his throat. “Side effect, maybe, but you looked to me more like an angel come down to pass judgment. You certainly saved Leslie’s life and probably his attacker’s life, since I was about to shoot him.”

  “Ah. Sorry I messed up your shot.”

  “You saved me paperwork.” He grinned. It felt good to joke about what just happened. Better than thinking about almost having to kill someone.

  Al looked around for Leslie. They still hadn’t gotten the information they needed from him, and after that glowing display of power, Noir’s story seemed more believable than ever. That meant they didn’t have much time to save the teller.

  A quick glance at the check-in counter revealed Leslie in deep conversation with another doctor. His replacement, hopefully.

  “Stay with me.” Without waiting for Noir’s answer, Al walked over to Leslie. “Can I buy you a drink, Doc? Aren’t you due for a break?”

  Leslie took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess it’s time for a quick break.”

  Al and Noir followed the doctor down a flight a stairs and across a barren corridor to the near-deserted hospital cafeteria. Al knew that most of the doctors preferred the coffee shop around the corner. But Leslie didn’t like leaving the hospital while he was on call for the ER.

  Al headed right for the soda machines, plunked down change, and the machine burped out two Pepsis in quick succession. He knew Leslie’s weakness.