by Kim Faulks
Cold fingered my back with a lover’s touch, finding the parts of me that weren’t taped and covered with thick dressings. My muscles tightened, yanking stitches taut as I leaned over and grasped the IV pole.
Wheels swiveled, but held my weight as I eased one leg toward the side of the bed. The monitor above picked up pace, blaring in my ear with the telltale sign of desperation.
“Angel, what the hell?” Elon growled from the doorway.
I never stopped, never gave him any reason to think I was incapable. “Get these damn things off me, Elon.”
He rounded the foot of the bed. “What the…? Angel…Angel, stop this instant.”
“Get this off me, Elon. I want out.”
“You want out? You just came out of surgery for Christ’s sake. You can’t—”
I whipped my head toward him and the doctor in me reared. “Can and will. If you don’t take the cannula out, then I’ll do it my damn self.”
“Jesus, woman,” he snarled and rounded the bed. There was a kindness in his gaze, a longing. “You’re goddamn stubborn. You burst your damn stitches, it’s all on you.”
Elon was a pain in the ass, but at one time he’d been a friend—just like they’d all been friends when we were fresh-faced and in love with the idea of saving the world.
Now we were just tired.
“Thank you,” I whispered as he yanked open a drawer, and pulled out gauze and tape.
Doctors didn’t do this, not the menial tasks. But he did…for me. “At least tell me why?”
“I’ll die here if I stay.” The words sounded so exaggerated. “I can’t just do nothing. I can’t sit and wait, not to heal—not to wonder.”
“How you survived?”
I sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
He peeled back the clear plastic skin from the back of my hand. “You know, I’ve been asking myself that same damn question since they wheeled you out of surgery. Don’t get me wrong, Angel. I’m glad you’re here, and if you were a normal patient I’d never voice my concerns, but I saw you…”
He pressed his thumb against my vein and slid the cannula free. “You were dead, as dead as the countless ones I’ve called before. You shouldn’t be here, Angel. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.”
A haunting memory surfaced, tendrils of white danced around my feet. I blinked and the vision was gone.
Elon gripped my arm and squeezed. “Did you hear me, Angel? I don’t want you doing anything stupid, okay? I’ll call and check on you in a day or so at the clinic. You still live there, right? The clinic?”
I nodded, still caught on the whisper of that murky fog. There was something there, some memory that escaped me. Green eyes stared down at me.
Do you want to pass?
The question pressed against me, like a blanket I couldn’t shed, and in an instant it was gone, taking the fragments of the memory with it.
“I said no,” I whispered, staring at Elon’s long tapered fingers.
“You said no to what?”
I lifted my gaze and stared into those warm brown eyes. He forced a smile that changed to concern in his gaze. But it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t the touch of something…else. I strained for the words, fueled by a loss I felt in the depths of my soul.
I wanted something else.
I wanted someone else.
“He asked me if I wanted to pass and I said no. The sneaky sonofabitch knew. He knew and he refused to tell me.”
Elon shook his head and leaned close. “Who knew, Angel?”
I gave him a weak smile, but inside I was seething. “The damn Dragon, Michael.”
The flinch stung. Elon straightened, sucked in a hard breath and sighed. “I see. I’m not going to pretend to be happy with your current acquaintances.”
“I’m not asking your opinion.”
The corner of his lip curled into a sneer and it was right in these moments that you saw a true person. Not the one behind a mask, or the pretense that saving lives mattered—when it didn’t—not really. Not when they had no insurance, and no money. Not even when they were cared for by this democratic world we lived in. The true meaning of saving lives happened when there was nothing to gain and everything to lose.
When the Vampires were at your back and the wolves were on your heels.
That was when you were defined.
When the loss far outweighed the sacrifice, and still you went on.
“You know,” I whispered. “I found something in that cabin with the Vampires and the Dragons, something I never found in my own kind—I wish I could explain it. It was as though I’d discovered a secret about myself, and now that I know that secret, I can’t unknow it. I can’t unfeel it, and part of me doesn’t want to.”
I slid from the bed, and my feet found the floor. The frigid air skimmed a hand along my bare ass and pushed between my legs as I shoved Elon aside.
Please let there be clothes, I whispered a prayer and reached for the drawer. Don’t let me walk out of here bare assed or dressed in one of Elon’s goddamn jackets. “I appreciate all you've done for me. But I neither need your approval, nor your opinion in who I chose to spend my time with.”
The steel runners squealed as I yanked open the compartment and stared at the tracksuit pants. They weren’t ideal, but I was neither picky nor ungrateful. I plucked the pants, T-shirt, and jacket free. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. You’ve got some papers to sign and I’ve got clothes I need to wrestle with.”
“They’ll kill you. Don’t you understand that? Hell, you almost died once, don’t make me turn up to my shift and see your body under a sheet. Don’t make me wonder…don’t you dare make me wonder what the hell happened to you when you simply disappear. We’re here, Angel. We’re here and you belong with us and not with them.”
I dropped my clothes to the bed as he turned and made for the door.
“There doesn’t have to be a line, you know,” I murmured. “There doesn’t have to be an us and them.”
“Doesn’t there? If you believe that, Angel, then you’re in even deeper than you know. There’s a reason why the beasts belong out there and we belong in here. There’s a very good reason.”
He left me with that parting comment making me feel like a traitor to my own kind, and while he barked orders at the nurse, I had to wonder why there was ever a line at all.
The slap of heels echoed as I grabbed my clothes and headed for the bathroom.
The nurse never looked up as we met at the bathroom door. Her jaw tightened, lips flattened before she spoke. “How about a hand with that, Doctor?”
“I’m sorry he spoke to you like that.”
She shot me a gaze filled with surprise. “If it wasn’t about you, then it’d be about something else. Don't you worry yourself about it. Now, let’s get you into these clothes without busting your stitches. I trust you’ve got yourself plenty of dressings and such?”
“Yes, thank you. I’m well equipped.”
She flicked on the light and stepped to the side. “Good.”
I moved in and waited for the door to close. “I guess you heard all that.”
She circled me, yanking at the strings on my gown. “Some.”
I didn’t know why I asked the question. Did I even want to hear the answer? “And you feel the same as he does?”
She fumbled with the knots and let the gown fall. “No, Doctor. Not all of us feel the same. Many feel as you do, but we haven’t the strength to say otherwise. We’d risk our jobs, our families. We’d risk everything.”
I found the edge of the basin, unable to lift my gaze and find my reflection…not yet.
She opened the pair of panties one size too big and dropped to her knees. I splayed my hand against the wall and lifted one foot after another. Cotton slid against my skin, riding up to save my vulnerability.
There was no bra, but I didn’t mind. I stepped into the track pants and then held my arms out for the shirt to slide over my head and all the while I wondered if
there were so many who felt the same then surely, at some moment of humanity we outnumbered the ones who didn’t.
Then where were we? Why weren’t we fighting?
Why weren’t we saving?
Why weren’t we doing all we could?
Margaret Roth reared in my head. The prominent wife of a US Senator. She’d done exactly that, running campaigns, holding Free the Innocent. Bring them out of the Woods. rallies for all of the shifters. It was years ago now, but she’d fought. She spoke up when no one else would. She made herself heard and inspired many and for a time I thought we were winning…until that day.
That day when the whole world witnessed how brutal the people of the woods could be. The bloodshed filled my head. It was splashed across every news channel and social media, and from that day, there were no more rallies and no more campaigns.
There was no more fight, and the people of the woods went back to their hunger and their disease while the rest of us carried on.
She tugged the zipper on the jacket and shut out the cold. “There, that better?”
I glanced to her name badge and answered. “Yes, thank you, May.”
And for a moment I couldn’t speak. She was more than a woman, more than a nurse. She was the correction in my compass. The one steering me back to true north. She was the light that urged me forward and right now, I needed that more than I could say.
“Now, let me go and see if the good doctor has your discharge papers done so we can get you home. But I want you to come back if you start to feel feverish, or if your stitches start bleeding. You need to be on bedrest for a good week, maybe more. But I don’t need to be telling you any of this, do I?”
Her brow arched as she waited for a response.
I gave her a smile and shook my head. “No, you don’t. Understood nurse.”
The words already had that tang of a lie. May gave me a nod and one last scan before she headed for the door. “Good. I like you, Angel. I like you a lot. You keep fighting. You keep standing up to those pompous sonsofbitches and you keep reminding all of us what justice and compassion really mean.”
She left then, shoving the handle and letting the door swing closed behind her. I sucked in a breath. The low throb of pain in my side was gaining momentum. I pressed a hand against the dressing. Slow and easy, that’s all I needed…slow and fucking easy.
I took my time, grasping hold of the door until the very last second, and then straightened my spine as I rounded the doorway.
May sat behind the desk, head down, busy with the stack of files in front of her, but the rest of the corridor was empty. Relief sagged my shoulders as I headed for the desk.
“He’s gone?”
She lifted her head, smiled and nodded. “Yes, he left you some scripts to fill. Now if you’ll sign here and here”—she lifted the papers one at a time to the counter and rose—“then you can be on your way. Can I call you a cab, or do you have someone coming to get you?”
Michael’s face haunted me, filling my mind with perfect green eyes. The kind that carved through all the horror and pain, and saw the real you. I’d never felt so naked, never felt so vulnerable and honest and true. “No,” I whispered. “There’s no one.”
I picked up the pen and scrawled my name as she dialed and gave the cab company directions. I’d sleep, rest. I’d trade four walls for another four, but what I couldn’t handle was the silence.
That endless silence where you searched for the squeal of a wheel, or the rattle of a hospital trolley. That silence where the growl of a wolf echoed inside your head, and his breath—goosebumps raced, tearing along my arms—his breath was on your neck, hot and wet, and the smell of blood filled your nose.
“They’ll be waiting for you out front, Doctor. Good luck with everything.”
I nodded and tore myself from the memory. No more silence. No more memories. “Thank you,” I murmured and headed down the hallway one slow step at a time.
I made my way down the ramp and bypassed the accident and emergency department. Headlights cut through the darkness outside the double glass doors. The neon sign was a damn beacon. I tightened my fist around the paperwork as the automatic doors slid open and then closed behind me.
The cab driver never got out, never opened the door and for that, I was thankful. I needed to stand on my own. I needed to keep up with the rest of the world. I yanked open the handle and sucked in the stench of tobacco and greasy food.
The driver turned his head, hard yellow lights cut across sunken jowls and gray stubble. “You’re off to Angel Home, yeah?”
I sank into the seat and carefully pulled one foot in at a time. “Yes, you have the address?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
I yanked the door closed and carefully reached for the belt. Stitches pulled, agony flared. I breathed nice and slow and grasped the buckle. The click resounded as the car pulled away from the curb and headed for home.
The night was so different, so pretty and lonely. I stared at the darkened houses as the streets slipped away. The lights were blazing out the front of Angel Home as we pulled into the street. Doctor Leon Hutt stood outside, waiting with his hands in his pockets, all six-foot three of him hunched with his back against the cold.
I cringed inside as I caught sight of his scowl. He waited until the car stopped and I opened the door before he strode forward, yanked open the passenger’s side door and handed the driver a twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change,” he growled. His voice was filled with the tongue-lashing I was about to get.
He watched me with suspicion as I eased one foot out and stepped out of the car. I gripped the car door and then gave a shove. The boom of the door rocked the night, seconds later the car eased back onto the road.
“You know you could’ve called.”
Those words rang louder than the slam of a car door ever could. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think—”
“Exactly,” he cut me off. “You didn’t think. The next time you decide to pull something like this, Angel, how about a little heads-up. You know, just so those who care about you can get out of your way.”
He turned and marched along the pavement to the open front door.
Cared about me? I watched the newest of my team swallow the three steps with one stride. He’d been here for barely more than a year, most of that time was spent knee-deep in research and God knows how many cases.
We’d spent time together—of course we had—and shared a joke or two. But cared about me? I had no idea. I turned my head and stared at the pavement and the road. Faint blood drops still marred the concrete.
I could see them…my pulse picked up pace. I turned my head, and looked past the steps to the open glass door and foyer beyond. My legs shook, knees locked and unlocked.
I’m okay…I’m okay. Movement caught my gaze. Leon strode back to stand in the doorway. I wanted to prove the damn point. I was okay. I was fine. I was alive…
And yet, I couldn’t move.
“Angel, are you okay?”
I didn’t lift my gaze, only gave a soft nod and forced one foot to leave the ground.
Do you want to pass?
That bass voice filled my head. Did I want to die? That was what he asked me. He made me choose…life or death, and that choice reared its head once more.
Life or death?
I took a step, and then another, cutting across to the timber bannister. I gripped the wood and eased one foot to the first stair, and then another.
“I’m fine,” I answered, but it wasn’t to Leon, it wasn’t to anyone else but that deep growl inside my mind, and those green eyes of a dragon. “I’m fine.”
I closed my eyes to the foyer as I stepped through the open door. The dead still craved attention, waiting with arms splayed wide and a pool of blood. The young cadet wasn’t there, and neither was the horror that waited for me in the room beyond. I wouldn’t lift my gaze. I wouldn’t see that room that held so much wonder and so much pain.
Leon closed and locked the door behind me as I turned right and headed down the hall. A shower and sleep—that was all I needed…the dead could wait.
I slept the rest of that night and most of the day, waking up groggy and sore mid-afternoon. The half-filled tumbler of water sat beside me next to a sleeve of painkillers. I was home. I closed my eyes and eased back against the pillow. I was home.
And still Thorn was out there.
An ache flared, slicing through my chest deeper than any morphine could reach. I turned my head into the pillow and thought of Joslyn and for the first time I had a glimpse of the pain she must feel.
I kicked off the covers and splayed my hand against the wound. The cut on my hand was deep. I rolled my wrist, mapping the lines on my palm and the savage wound. I could still feel the sting as her tail whipped me, still feel the rush of fear at what she could do even as small as she was.
I fisted the sheets and pulled myself to stand. Sleep left my mouth dry, but it didn’t ease the hollow desperation inside me. I made my way into the bathroom and flicked on the light.
The person who stared back wasn’t me. I winced at the reflection and probed the dark circles under my eyes, and then turned my head. Deep purple bruises covered one side of my jaw and most of my neck. The other side was taped and covered from under my jaw, all the way down to my clavicle.
I picked at the edges of the tape, ready to unsheathe the coverings and see what I was left with. I swallowed as the ends came free. My damn hands shook as I pressed the skin flat outside of the tape and pulled.
Thick, raised stitches over my vein looked black and ugly. No amount of plastic surgery could fix that. I pressed the pointed edges and sucked in a breath. There was more, I knew that. My body didn’t feel like my own, not anymore.
I grasped the bottom of my shirt and lifted, purple and blue splashed across my ribs. My stomach…I slid my elbow through the sleeves…Jesus…
The dressings spanned the small of my back to my waist with thick white fingers. I pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor. The bruises were bad enough. I turned, taking careful movements to stare at the mess of dressings across my back.
