by Jenna Ryan
“Waiting for the flying monkeys to appear,” was all Kate said, but it was enough to settle Nolan’s mind about her emotional state.
A fierce gust of wind blew leaves into their faces. Nolan felt Kate shiver and risked Nesty’s wrath by shucking off his jacket and draping it over her shoulders.
She slid her arms into the sleeves. “Please tell me you have a plan we can implement before we reach the bat cave.”
“Not yet.” He looked up. “Best I’ve got is if we see an opportunity, we jump on it.”
“I hate bats, Nolan.”
“Yup, noticed that.” He glanced around as thin drops of rain began to fall. “We might be catching a break here. He’s winding us down to the pond.”
“He’s winding us down to the bat cave,” she corrected. “Where’s the break in that?” Then she lost her footing and grabbed his arm for balance. “Right. Got it. Slippery.”
“Whatever you two are muttering about, it won’t help you. Twenty-five K’s a lot of spending money.” Grinning crookedly now, Nesty waved his rifle in the air. “Rain’s sparkling. Hope that don’t mean it’s radioactive. I don’t wanna be growing any second head.”
“Trust me, Nesty,” Nolan said. “No one wants that.”
Kate looked thoughtfully at Nesty, sizing him up. “It could be he mixed his meds rather than went off them. He sounds delusional.”
“Delusional and carrying a loaded weapon. There’s a combo I could live without.” Keeping his eyes moving, Nolan searched for a way to distract their captor. A skunk would work. Or a tiny woman in a baggy coat and veil.
The ground beneath them turned a putrid shade of green. The wind blew hard at their backs, and more than once Nolan heard Nesty slip.
“If all else fails, we could dive in opposite directions,” Kate suggested.
Nolan knew her teeth were chattering, but she was holding it together, and that gave him room to think.
“Feels like needles on my skin,” Nesty complained. “Pricking me all over.”
He shot a bullet into the trees. When Kate spun, Nolan slid smoothly in front of her. “Problem?” he asked.
Nesty was busy slapping at his shooting arm, but he was too far away to be tackled. As if sensing Nolan’s thoughts, he jerked the rifle sideways and this time deliberately squeezed the trigger.
“Next bullet’s going in you, Nolan. Twelve and a half thou’s plenty for me.” His lips peeled back, giving him the look of a crafty hyena. “In fact, it’ll do me just fine.”
Spreading his legs, he took aim. All Nolan could do was brace. But then the wind swooped, wet leaves blew up and Nesty’s feet flew out from under him.
He landed on his tailbone and slid. Nolan shoved Kate aside, jumped the bouncing boulder that had brought the man down and with a knee wedged between his legs, vised a hand around Nesty’s throat.
“Twitch,” he warned, “and you’ll be a falsetto.”
Nesty’s eyes shot bitter daggers, but he pinched his lips and didn’t move.
“Kate?”
“I’ve got the rifle.” She directed the tip up the hill. “A big rock rolled into him, Nolan. I saw it bounce down the slope into his legs.”
“I know.”
Going to her knees, she regarded Nesty’s fuming features. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful. But I don’t buy a coincidence like that.”
Neither did he, Nolan thought. Not a coincidence, not the luck of the Irish and sure as hell not a fairy godmother.
So what, he wondered, yanking Nesty from the ground, did that leave?
* * *
“I didn’t figure you’d go straight to the church, Nolan. Why did you do it?”
The man who posed the question was a colorful sight. He wore a plaid cap to cover the top of a bald head. The frizzy gray fringe that remained hung in tails past his shoulders. An even frizzier beard tapered to a point in the middle of his chest. He had a tattoo on each arm—Merlin and Mim from The Sword in the Stone, he later told Kate—and eyes that were two different shades of blue. He handed Kate a mug of what she hoped was tea and set a plate of rock-hard cookies on a table littered with crosses, crystals, polished stones and wooden carvings.
Crouched in front of a small woodstove, Nolan looked back at his friend. “We didn’t get here until after midnight, Duffy. Church was easier to access than your place. Plus we found the provisions.”
“It was also quiet, and there was a graveyard involved.” Kate sampled the liquid. It tasted like licorice-flavored tree bark. “One of Nolan’s government friends is big on headstones, fog and safe houses that get blown sky high. Duffy, why do you live in a train car?”
“Same reason you live where you live, I expect. It suits my purpose. And it’s cars. Three Pullmans. I keep my serious stuff in the next one over. We’re in the fun room.” He picked up and clicked a remote. “Got a TV, a Blu-ray player and Rear Window.” He winked. “In honor of the fact that you remind me of the beautiful blonde actress who became a princess. But I shouldn’t be prattling on about Hollywood beauties when you’ve got a phobic phantom threatening you with death.”
“Phobic? Why phobic?” Kate asked, but he’d turned away and didn’t hear her.
Raising his voice, he said, “Sorry again about Nesty, Nolan. Tomorrow’s the anniversary of his ma’s murder. Pathetic man that he is, he wanted to celebrate the event. I told him mixing drugs and alcohol was dangerous. Guess he took my meaning the wrong way.”
Nolan shrugged. “He’s home now. No harm, no foul.”
Duffy handed Kate the remote. “Got Coke in the fridge if you’d rather,” he offered with a twinkle.
“Thanks. I’ll get it.” Standing, she stepped over a stack of precariously balanced books. “Nolan brought us here for a reason, and I don’t think sanctuary was at the top of the list.”
“The smart ones are scary,” Nolan said to Duffy. Sweeping the clutter from an armchair, he dropped onto the seat. “Got a story to tell you, old friend, and it’s gonna take a bit of time….”
Kate made her way over to one of two small fridges. Let Nolan tell the tale, her head was a jumble of bats—who could like an animal that walked on its elbows?—shadowy silhouettes and rocks that tumbled down slippery slopes at convenient moments.
As she twisted the top off a bottle of Coke, it occurred to her that she was still wearing Nolan’s leather jacket. It was warm, which was nice. But it smelled like Nolan, and that was bad. Bad in the nice way, though, if mixing the prospect of sex with a hot surgeon into her mental jumble could be considered anything other than insane.
Losing it, Kate cautioned herself. Bottle in hand, she hunted up a chair across from the TV and away from the men.
Judge Whoever on cable didn’t appeal. Neither did the Shopping Channel, which was vaguely terrifying. She slid her gaze to Nolan, told herself no and surfed through a dozen more programs.
A senatorial hopeful from the South beamed broadly at state and country. If elected, he’d stump for drinkable tap water and improvements to all public works. He had a killer smile, thick blond hair and, in Kate’s opinion, the perfect campaign slogan: There’s Good, There’s Better. And Now There’s C. J. Best.
Although C.J.’s aide, a paunchy man with tightly curled red hair and a perpetual scowl, whispered to him constantly, the wannabe senator’s smile held fast.
Something clicked in Kate’s mind. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts drift. They slid straight back to med school and a particular professor to whom C. J. Best bore an amazingly strong resemblance. She could almost see Best wearing scrubs and shouting at his students in a thick Scottish brogue. Fortunately for him, C.J. sounded like the perfect southern gentleman.
Restless, Kate moved on to a San Francisco news station. She was immediately treated to visuals of an armed robbery. She was searching for The Simpsons when the name Perradine caught her ear.
And suddenly there she was, Anna Perradine, bundled in sleek black fur, sounding slightly drunk as she talked with a rep
orter outside her late son’s home.
“I can only hope and pray that whoever shot my Frankie will be brought to justice quickly.” She wiped at a tear with the side of her finger and took the tissue handed to her by—Kate’s brows went up. “Toy boy has changed faces,” she remarked.
“What about faces?” Nolan, who was passing behind her, asked.
She drew an air circle around the right side of the screen. “Anna Perradine has a new lover. He’s more goth than the guy who shot up Shanghai Lily’s bar.” She angled her head. “I’ve seen him somewhere.” Another speculative tilt. “I think he might work at St. Mark’s.”
“Never let sorrow stand in the way of either opportunity or energetic sex,” Nolan remarked dryly. “It’s Anna’s credo. Goth guy looks like a bouncer.”
“He’s probably with security.” Muting the sound, Kate watched Anna’s lips tremble. “Her grief’s real, though.” She felt her heart sink. “I really did think I could save him, Nolan.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, kid. You’re a top-level surgeon. On to a new subject.” Nolan tugged her hair then grinned at the look she shot him. “Duffy has friends in discreet places. He’s agreed to do a background check on Phoebe Lessard and Mad Mama Madeleine for us.”
“Nolan here informs me that Madeleine Lessard was the first victim in this mess. It’s also believed she had the sight.” Duffy tapped the side of his nose. “Those things are almost certainly significant. Might even be the magic key your secret agent Crucible’s been searching for.”
“However…” Nolan reached for Kate’s Coke and took a long drink. “On the very real chance that Duffy’s key doesn’t fit the magic lock, you and I need to see what we can shake loose at St. Mark’s.”
“You want to go to San Francisco? To the hospital?” Kate took the Coke back. “Nolan, that’s suicide. Crucible will have people watching every entrance. And if he doesn’t, Leshad’s bound to.” She switched her attention to Duffy. “Why did you call Leshad a phobic phantom before?”
The old man scratched under his beard. “Well, now, Kate, you kill or put a hit out on a woman who’s rumored to possess the sight, then murder her sister, a woman who might or might not be similarly gifted, and top it off by going for the sighted woman’s daughter, my feeling is you’re dealing with a phobic personality.”
“You think Leshad’s afraid that other members of Madeleine Lessard’s family might possess similar psychic ability, and he wants them dead just in case?” Kate frowned. “That’s sick.”
Duffy nodded. “It is, but parapsychology and the occult is my avocation. From what I’ve read and researched—quite a significant amount—this ‘sight’ we’re talking about tends to be strongest, and therefore most highly feared, when it’s a female in possession of it. Males are much less likely to tap in. In terms of what Nolan’s told me, I don’t believe Leshad thinks you’re psychic. Phoebe Lessard was one of your patients at St. Mark’s. My sense is you’ve been targeted strictly due to your medical connection to the woman.”
“Bringing us full circle to our mission.” Nolan plucked the bottle from Kate’s suddenly chilled fingers and drank again. “An injured Phoebe came to St. Mark’s. You operated on her, she vanished, you got a silhouette calling card. Access to patient records is only possible from within the system. St. Mark’s is where we need to go.”
Kate massaged her throbbing right temple. “My head’s going to explode in a minute.” But knowing she had to, she sucked it up. “Okay, let’s say you’re right. Good luck to us getting in unnoticed.”
“Think night.”
She smiled as she stood. “Oh, that’ll work. Who’d ever think we’d try anything after dark. Nolan, the entrances will be patrolled 24/7.”
“Damn right they will.” He caught her off guard by taking hold of her chin and giving her a very hot, very thorough kiss. “But only the ones they know about.”
CHAPTER NINE
Kate thought it was almost worth the enormous risk just to get new clothes, boots and, thank you, God, cosmetics. Who knew prowling through an outlet store, wearing oversized sunglasses and her long leather coat and using cash borrowed from Duffy’s secret stash would give her such a rush? Unless the source of her excitement stemmed from a sexier, human source.
One way or another, the fun only lasted for a few hours. Then it was back to reality and an eerie sense of déjà vu as they parked Nolan’s borrowed truck near the spot where she’d had her close encounter with Anna’s Caddy.
Knowing the remainder of the trek would be made on foot, Kate shone her flashlight into the murk. “Fog’s climbing the hill behind us. The woods are already white.” She flicked her beam at Nolan’s face. “Why did you kiss me at Duffy’s?”
“Call it an uncharacteristic moment of optimism, and save your battery.”
She checked the road for cars. Finding none, she dimmed the light. “Don’t get cranky, Dr. N. This skulking-in-the-back-door thing was your idea. Just like the kiss at Duffy’s. I only asked why you did it.”
He glanced over. “Would it make you feel better if I told you Duffy kept running off at the mouth about Rear Window and your face and how he hadn’t had any for nine months, and wha-hey, wasn’t I the lucky bastard?”
“Can we back that up a little? Duffy, an eighty-something-year-old eccentric who lives in three Pullman cars in the back of beyond got ‘some’ nine months ago? With whom?”
“The new bar owner’s a woman in her late seventies. Having discovered that, I chose not to probe any deeper.”
“Well, wha-hey for Duffy.” She cast Nolan a sly sideways look. “Did you happen to mention that you’re not a lucky bastard?”
A slow smile appeared. “If I’d done that, I’d have spoiled the fantasy he’ll be conjuring, as we speak, of us doing it even though he’s currently not.”
“And where exactly will we be doing it in his fantasy? We’re infiltrating a hospital cellar by way of an underground tunnel that better not have bats in it, Nolan, or your wha-hey nooky days will be severely limited for the next month.” She paused. “I’ve lost my train of thought. What was I saying?”
“You were griping, Kate, not saying. Something about wanting to pry open Duffy’s head and spy on his sex life.”
She wouldn’t laugh, Kate promised herself, but she had to swallow very hard to get past the tickle in her throat. “That’s not what I want, or said, and I’ll remind you, this whole thing started because you kissed me. Rather than trying to visualize Duffy’s vicarious sex dreams, why don’t we delete the entire conversation and concentrate on getting into the hospital.”
“What, you can’t multitask?”
They walked in silence for several minutes before Nolan slid his gaze to her face. “Duffy sees a 1950s screen goddess when he looks at you.”
“Yes, he mentioned that. For some reason, I find it a little depressing.” Shoulders hunched, she kept walking. And only jumped a little when Nolan sank his hand into her hair to slow her down.
“Duffy sees a screen goddess, Marshall. I don’t. Take that any way you want to, and let’s get this quest done before it occurs to me why I really went to Shanghai Lily’s the night Frankie Perradine died.”
Although the last part of his statement created a tingle inside, she made herself relax. “Pax, then,” she agreed. “How far to the tunnel entrance?”
His eyes glittered in the fading moonlight. She thought for a breathless moment he might kiss her again, but then a car cruised down the hill, the spell broke and he took her hand instead.
The fog, the night and Kate’s own turbulent feelings closed in on her the farther they ventured into the woods. She heard a screech owl high in a tree and a weird rustling sound much lower to the ground. Leaves on the muddy path squished underfoot, and every once in a while an odd ripple of wind ruffled her hair.
She watched bony fingers of fog crawl up and over a rotting tree stump. “It’s getting ahead of us,” she noted.
“We’re almost there.�
�
She swivelled her head, trying to look in every direction. How on earth could these semi-familiar woods possibly be spookier than a graveyard?
More minutes crept by. “I haven’t seen the old woman since last night,” she said at length and more to break the awkward silence than anything. “Not her and not the bearded man with the limp, although he’s not as mysterious as she is. I’d say I dreamed the woman up except, hello, four bombs in the apartment building.”
Tightening his grip, Nolan helped her navigate a patch of mossy rocks. “Either accept what you saw and heard, or leave it alone. Duffy insists there’s stuff out there that would fry our brains if we ever came up against it.” His tone grew bitter. “I’ve spent time overseas. Worse than what I saw there is hard for me to imagine, but Duffy swears it exists.”
Not wanting him to sink into a funk, Kate bumped his shoulder. “Duffy’s beliefs make for good campfire tales, Nolan, but do me a favor and save the specifics for the hospital Halloween party when we’re toasting marshmallows on Spirit Hill and watching the Golden Gate Bridge disappear into a fogbank that I truly hope will be a lot less menacing than the one we’re walking through right now. It’s weird not to see my body from the hips down.”
“I like it.” Nolan shrugged. “Reminds me of college—and you’d need several shots of whiskey under your belt before that story would even begin to make sense.” Setting his hands on her waist, he lifted her up and over a fallen sycamore. “The tunnel entrance is straight ahead.”
Kate ran her light over a craggy wall. “All I see is a big black hole that looks suspiciously like the opening to a cave.”
“Well, duh.”
She executed a sharp half turn. “Okay, here’s the thing. One of my brothers—”
“Big or burly?”
Irritation stirred. “You choose. One of them thought it would be funny to lock my sister and me in our uncle’s attic during a thunderstorm. Our uncle lives in Kansas. Do you get where I’m going with this? Thunder, lightning, wind and, oh, yeah, bats. Three that I was able to count before Mindy, my sister, and I smashed the window with an old lamp. One of the bats must have had an injured wing, because it hobbled across a tall dresser, fell off and wound up tangled in my hair.” She gnashed her teeth. “In my hair, Nolan. I was seven at the time, and I’ll never forget my sister screaming, me screaming and the bat making horrible squealing sounds while it struggled to free itself.”
