by L.J. Hayward
Chapter 42
Erin sat in her car and waited. The gun, secured in a locked carry case, sat on the seat beside her. She didn’t understand why he wanted to meet here, of all places. And he was late. Only to be expected, she supposed.
She rolled her arms over on the steering wheel and looked at her wrists. All that remained of Mercy’s bites were four pink dints. At least, that was the only physical remains. There were still nights when Erin woke up, terrified, ghosts of the horrible drawing sensation winding through her body. And there had been a month straight where she hadn’t gone out at night. William had relished the constant company for about two weeks, then began nagging her about it. Her first outing after dark had been dinner at Gavin and Kate’s. She’d even enjoyed it, a bit. Then Ivan and Brad had taken her to the movies, which she’d enjoyed more.
Ivan had spent a week in hospital, recovering from Veilchen’s interrogation. He’d had few physical wounds, but doctors had kept him in for observation, worried there might have been deep, psychological trauma. Occasionally, he told Erin about his nightmares, but they had grown less and less frequent until he claimed he no longer had them. Sometimes, though, when he thought no one was watching, his eyes would get haunted and his shoulders would shake a little.
Erin had refused to go back into hospital. She’d medicated herself for the blood loss the second time. Steak and orange juice. She’d felt like shit for weeks, but preferred that to another transfusion. Suddenly, the thought of someone else’s blood in her veins wasn’t comforting. It was vampirism on a whole new level.
She had kept her job. Sol had rung her up and fired her. A minute later, he’d called back and rehired her. It had been hard to not toss it back in his face, but there was William’s care and treatment to think of, so she’d accepted.
And it had taken her two months to set up the meeting. His gun had been sitting in her office safe all that time. For the sake of expediency, she’d paid the fine when she realised she couldn’t see him before it was due. He hadn’t called.
Ivan had set up the meeting. Erin had tried several times to dial his number, but couldn’t go through with a conversation. So Ivan had, and he’d spoken to him for a while. When he’d hung up, he seemed calmer somehow. Erin almost resented that.
Now here she was, waiting, and he was late.
About to call Ivan and get him to find out where Hawkins was, the black Monaro eased up beside her and pulled over to the side of the road. The damage had been repaired and the car was slick and gleaming once more. Erin read the number plate, NYT CLL, and wondered that she’d ever thought Night Cell.
Matt got out, tall and lanky. He had a walking stick with him but otherwise looked fit and well. He didn’t look back at her, instead walking around the car and into the cemetery. Erin waited a minute, then got out and followed him, case in hand.
He led her through the rows of graves on a direct path to where he eventually stopped. It was obviously a grave he visited often. Erin held back while he crouched by the headstone, left leg stretched out. From his jacket, he pulled a single peace lily and laid it on the gravestone. His hand lingered on the engraved words, and then he stood and came back toward Erin.
She met him halfway.
“Hi,” he said.
“Your gun.” Erin held out the case.
Matt took it with a little smile on his lips. “Thank you.”
“The key,” she added, digging it from her pocket and handing it over. His fingers brushed hers as he took it.
“The fine?” he asked.
“Paid. Consider it a fee for keeping the gun so long.”
He nodded. “How are you?”
“Fine. Ivan’s fine as well.”
“Yeah, we had a chat. He’s a good kid.”
“The best.” She tried to hold it back, but it burst out without control. “And if he gets hurt again, I’ll kill whoever’s responsible.”
“I believe you would.”
Erin pulled in several deep breaths, calming herself. “How’s Mercy?”
“Good. Back to her old self again. She’ll be pleased you asked after her.”
“No she won’t.”
He chuckled. “You’re right.”
“I saw Robert Robertson was released without being charged.”
Matt’s chuckle turned into a full bore laugh. His wide grin was that same wholly unabashed one that had caught her at their first meeting.
“All this time he just called himself Roberts. Robert Robertson. I love it. He’ll never live it down.”
Rather than make her smile in return, his grin just made her sad.
“Why do you do it?” she asked.
Hooking his walking stick over one arm, he shoved his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders. “Someone’s got to.”
“Not good enough. There’s always going to be dangerous jobs that someone has to do, but they do it because they choose to. Why did you choose this?”
Matt moved so he could look at the grave he’d visited. “I suppose I could give you an easy answer, that I didn’t choose this. It chose me when Mercy came into my hospital on my shift. I could tell you that watching her transform made me vow to protect others from going through that horror, stop families losing their loved ones to these monsters. And it would be true.”
“But?”
The corner of his mouth lifted in an ironic smile. “But nothing’s ever that simple outside of Disney movies. I had a choice.” He indicated the grave. “Her name is Eloisa Juliana Morrow, and she was nine when she died. She had congenital heart failure. Her friends at school used to call her Weeza, because sometimes she couldn’t breathe properly. She was the first person I ever saved.”
Erin stared at the gravestone so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “The child in the ambulance.”
“Sometimes I dream about her, about that night. I wake up still feeling her in my hands, feeling her little heart start beating again. I can feel the way she coughed and opened her eyes and looked at me. The dream never goes further than that. I always wake up just as she lives again. Then I remember the rest of it.”
He was quiet for a while, then sighed. “She’s the reason I do this. I made the choice to help Mercy because of her. And I made the choice to turn Mercy against her own kind because of me. I need to make Mercy’s curse mean something other than death for more people like Eloisa. I guess I need to know that I can still help people. Not just hurt them.”
“That’s a good reason,” Erin whispered. “So Night Call will continue?”
“There’s still need for it.” After a moment, he added, “A big need, if what we witnessed was anything to go by. I’ll have my work cut out for me.”
Erin knew what he was gearing up to ask, just as his question about seafood had been a precursor to dinner and a movie talk. She shook her head in pre-emptive refusal. Matt considered her intensely and she looked away.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do what you do.”
“But you—”
“I can’t. It scares me.”
“It scares me too.”
“It’s not just that.” She tried hard to suppress a shiver, but it reached her hands and made them tremble. Crossing her arms, she said, “You scare me.”
“I don’t mean to,” he said quickly, as if he’d known what she was going to say all along. “I know I lose control sometimes. I’m working on it. Therapy.”
“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t bother me. I can understand that.”
Eyebrows arched, he asked, “Then what? The temper thing is usually enough for most people.”
“But most people didn’t see what I did that night. What I saw you do. You decapitated Veilchen.”
Matt grimaced. “You can’t say she didn’t deserve it.”
Erin let out a slightly maniacal laugh. “She certainly did. I don’t blame you for it. But how you did it. That wasn’t normal. You moved so fast I couldn’t see what you did until it was over and her head w
as rolling on the ground. You moved as fast as Mercy does.”
“No, I didn’t. I can’t move that fast. You must have been confused. Concussed, even.”
“I know what I saw. What you did, no human could have done.” And she clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t come with the intention of telling him he was inhuman. In fact, she couldn’t remember making the decision to tell him what she’d seen at all.
They were both quiet for a while. Erin couldn’t look at him, afraid she would see how her careless comment had made him feel.
“How’s your husband?” he eventually asked, voice quiet, concerned.
The question didn’t gut her as much as it could have, perhaps because she was so relieved he wasn’t angry. “Doing okay.” She dug in a pocket and retrieved her note book. Flipping it open, she said, “Some people left messages with me for you.”
A curious smile curling his lips, he said, “Interesting.”
“Dr Nolan said to thank you for the shopping list.”
That drew a soft grunt from him.
“And James Douglass said to tell you that getting injured enough to get someone out on a night call, a job you hated, was the very definition of irony.”
Matt snorted good humouredly. “He would. Any other messages to pass on?”
Erin meet his eyes. “Douglass also said that you shouldn’t be alone. I agree with him.”
He looked away first. “Is it advice you’re going to take yourself?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
Matt smiled. “Good.”
Then he walked away.
