by Eric Asher
Casper squeezed Frank’s arm when he took a seat on the edge of the bed. I nudged Sam with my elbow when Casper’s eyes widened and locked onto my sister.
“Friendly,” I said. “No eating them.”
Sam turned jet black eyes on me, and I gave her a nervous smile. “You look great tonight.”
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”
“That was jealousy,” a voice said from across the room.
I stepped farther in, and saw the Ranger from earlier sitting on a small desk in the corner. It wasn’t a desk, exactly, but more like one of those rolling tray tables they bring you that wonderful hospital food on.
“That was not jealousy,” Sam said.
“That’s good,” the Ranger said, “because I’m Casper’s boyfriend. And I’d rather not have to shoot Frank.”
“Pretty sure I can handle shooting people myself,” Casper said. “Thank you very much.”
Frank chuckled and patted the edge of the bed, coaxing Sam over to sit next to him. I stayed in the doorway, leaning against the bathroom door.
“How is everyone?” Frank asked.
“Most of the survivors are okay,” Casper said. “A couple didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You seen the fairies?” Now I wondered where they were, and how much they had done to help the wounded soldiers back at the hospital. It wasn’t safe for them to expend too much energy healing.
“They did what they could,” Casper said. “And more of us are alive than have any right to be because of them.”
Something shifted on the pillow behind Casper, and I couldn’t stop a grin when Foster popped his head up. “Nudd’s balls, she makes us sound so noble.”
Aideen sat up and yawned, stretching her back before casually slapping Foster across the cheek. “Just ignore him,” she said in a tired voice. Aideen hopped off the pillow, her body weight scarcely denting the sheets as she walked over to Sam and flopped onto my sister’s thigh.
“You are what you are,” the Ranger said, crossing his arms. “There’s no need to fight it.”
“Since when is it the smart ones that carry the guns?” Foster asked. “I’ve gotten so used to it just being Damian.”
Casper fluffed the pillow for him, and he laid back down.
“Don’t get used to that,” Aideen said. “Or they’ll have a reason not to trust us.”
Foster beamed at Aideen, and Casper chuckled.
I wasn’t sure how much Aideen was joking, and where she would draw the line. Fairies could be ruthless, and I’d been lucky to escape with little more than a scratch on more than one occasion.
“Have you seen Park?” Frank asked. “We wanted to check on you guys, but we were hoping to catch Park, too. Nixie had some great ideas about where to station the water witches.”
“He’s … dealing with something.” Casper glanced away, meeting the Ranger’s eyes for a moment.
“Just tell them,” he said. “If they wanted us dead, we’d already be dead.”
“Stacy,” Casper said, “the man who opened fire on Main Street, is being debriefed.”
The Ranger snorted. “Debriefed? Park tore them up one side and down the other. And he made it damn clear who our allies are.”
“Yes,” Casper said, “the man who fired on you has a following of radically minded soldiers, mostly raw recruits, but not all.”
“We can handle ourselves,” Foster said through a huge yawn.
“If I had a flyswatter right now,” the ranger said, “you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“That’s like a weapon of mass destruction,” Sam said. “Hardly fair.”
“Vampires can be such bitches,” Foster muttered.
The ranger leaned back a bit and cast Sam a small smile. “I thought I recognized you. You’re with the local vampire clan. Damian’s sister.”
“Oh, don’t call her that,” Foster said.
“Why not?” Sam asked. “Some days it seems like I don’t have a name outside of ‘Damian’s sister.’”
“Sorry,” the Ranger said, immediately recognizing the danger. “No disrespect meant. Your hair was different in the photos they showed in our briefing. I wasn’t sure it was you.”
“Failure to recognize a mark,” Casper said. “What would your old sergeant think?”
“It’s a little different here,” the ranger said. “There’s a lot less sand.”
Casper laughed. “That’ll make a great excuse. There was less sand, so I couldn’t recognize anyone.”
The hammering started a moment later. “Wow,” I said. “Somebody’s using some heavy-duty equipment pretty late today. Are they trying to get the ICU fixed tonight or something?”
Sam sprang to her feet a moment before I realized Casper, Frank, and the Ranger had gone stock-still.
“Do you have your gun?” the Ranger asked.
“Do I have my gun?” Casper asked. “They didn’t exactly give me an option to bring an M16 into the hospital.”
Aideen leaped into the air and landed on Sam’s shoulder as Sam bolted to the door.
“Wait here,” Sam said, pausing at the doorway. “I’ll see what’s happening.”
Another hammer blow sounded, and then more. The unmistakable burst of automatic weapons fire. I cursed and followed Sam to the door.
“Aideen, stay here,” I whispered. “You and Foster have done enough. You’re too tired for this.”
The fairy looked conflicted. Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword, only to release it twice in succession. She cursed and glided back to the bed beside Foster. I heard them whisper, but I didn’t wait to see what they decided. Sam zipped out the door and I followed.
A form clad in nothing but a hospital gown moved past one of the fallen MPs, and then ducked into one of the hospital rooms. Another burst of gunfire sounded before a second man stepped out of a room on the other side of the hall. Only it wasn’t a man, it was a newly formed ghost, the color draining from his aura as it became the calm winding flow of the dead.
Sam blurred into motion. She rocketed down the hallway, knocking a whiteboard off the wall before she crashed through the drywall, snapping electrical lines and God knows what else. Gunshots tore through the wall, and the man in the hospital gown backpedaled, firing wildly into the room.
“You took my brothers,” he screamed, all reason gone from his voice. “You’ll never take me. You’ll never take another one of us.”
He chased something around the room with the gun, and I knew he was aiming for Sam. A black blur erupted out the doorway, wrenching the rifle out of the man’s hand and taking him to the ground. Blood dripped from my sister’s forehead, leaving a stain when she’d head-butted the deranged man.
I was so fixated on her that I didn’t see the second gunman walking out of the room across the hall. I didn’t see him until he had raised a handgun the size of Texas and pointed it at my sister’s head.
“No!” I shouted, and my aura surged forward out of sheer reflex. It wrapped itself around that newborn ghost, an MP whose murder had just happened. And in a split second, I understood.
Father, a major. Mother, a sergeant. Brother, a Navy SEAL. A family born in war, who gave everything to their country, followed their commands without fail. Loyal, as loyal as a member to their alpha wolf.
His great-grandfather had given his life in the first of the world wars. And from there, a family tragedy unfolded, decade after decade. When there weren’t wars, they died in black ops. But this soldier was unique, this soldier understood that there were things in the world outside humanity. He’d known about magic for decades. He’d met Green Men and journeyed to the newly risen Falias in hopes of finding an old family legend. A legend that had haunted them longer than they could trace their own history. A legend known as the Morrigan.
A strange creature that had once saved his sister, before visiting him at his father’s grave in Arlington. And a year later at his sister’s grave, w
hen she came home in a box from a war that never should’ve been. A war of blood and sand and merciless gods.
I screamed through the tears, “Stop him!”
The words were garbled to my ears as that horrible domino of life after life lost in war after war burned into my soul. His now-corporeal hand flashed out, knocking the gun away as the murderer pulled the trigger. It blasted a hole in the tile beside Sam’s head. The man reeled backward in shock, but the ghost followed him.
Sam cracked the man’s head on the tile floor an instant later, leaving him unconscious while the ghost watched.
“Go,” I said to the ghost. “Find what peace you can.”
“Thank you,” the ghost said. And then he was gone, the shadow of a crow escorting him into the darkness.
Sam was on her feet again, staring at me. “Damian, look at the size of that hole. Could that have killed me?”
“Maybe,” I said quietly. “I don’t know.”
She wiped the blood away from her chin with a shaky hand. She reached out to me, and I held her tight. I felt the sorrow of that ghost who had lost his sister not so long ago. And it was an easy thing to understand how losing Sam would destroy me in more ways than one.
Park stumbled around the corner, leaning down to check the pulse of the very dead MP.
“He’s gone,” I said.
Park hobbled forward and looked into the first hospital bed before releasing a string of curses that Zola would’ve been proud of. Park made his way toward us, and I saw the blood trickling down his left leg.
“You’re shot,” I said.
“In the job description.”
Sam sniffed and pulled away from the unconscious soldiers. Park flinched at the sight of her blood-covered face.
“He’ll do no harm now,” she said, indicated the first shooter. She pointed at the second man. “I think this one just misunderstood the situation.”
“Come on, let’s get you down to Casper’s room. The fairies might be able to help a bit.”
“I need to assess the situation,” Park said.
“We stopped them in the second room,” Sam said. “They’re both gone.”
Park sagged against me, and Sam hurried into a room before backing out, pushing a wheelchair. We sat Park in it, and Sam rushed him down the hall. I jogged after them.
“I got the call button,” Casper said as Park and Sam made it into her room. “Who was it?”
“Combat stress reaction,” Park muttered. “Sometimes combat breaks a soldier. Usually we catch it, but sometimes …” he shook his head.
Aideen glided to Park’s leg. He winced as she landed, but didn’t protest as the fairy sliced through the thigh of his pants to get a better look at the wound underneath.
“You’re lucky. It’s not fatal. I can stop the bleeding for now, but I don’t have the energy to heal you completely.”
“I’ll manage,” Park said, his face paling.
“Aideen,” I said, “are you—”
I didn’t get to finish the question.
“Socius Sanation,” Aideen whispered. The spell was brief. A flash of light, and then it was over. Aideen took a deep breath and looked at the thin patch of bright pink skin that had closed over Park’s wound. “Come by tomorrow. I’ll see if I can heal the rest.”
“Well, that’s something I’ll never get used to,” the Ranger said. “That was like magic.”
Foster let out a slow laugh. “This one’s dense.”
If the Ranger was offended by Foster’s joke, he sure as hell didn’t show it. He walked over and inspected Park’s leg before shaking his head. “That’s amazing.”
“The work of an amateur,” Aideen said. “There’s only so much we can do in one day.”
“This is fine,” Park mumbled. “I’m going to get some sleep. Leave before the MPs come.” And with that, Park passed out.
Casper cursed. “You should all get out of here. There’s work to be done preparing the city. You don’t need to be holed up in an interrogation room answering questions that shouldn’t have been asked in the first place.”
“What about the soldiers?” Frank asked.
Casper flinched like Frank had struck her. “Christ.” She rubbed that her eyes. “We’ll take care of it. Park will let their families know, and if he’s not up for it, I’ll do it. As for the ones that are still alive, they’ll face the consequences of what they’ve done.”
“We’ll be seeing you,” the Ranger said. I took that as our cue to leave.
“Come on,” I said, holding my hand out to Aideen. She hopped up onto it, and I raised her up to my shoulder. Foster climbed up onto Sam, and we took our leave.
“Well, that was a cluster fuck,” Frank said as we exited through the stairway at the end of the hall, where Casper had told us to go.
“Yeah,” I said, “let’s go see Graybeard.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
We made it back to the front parking lot without being stopped. By the time we climbed back into Sam’s SUV, military vehicles were squealing to a stop in front of the ER. Six soldiers poured out of the first as the second and third vehicle roared up behind them.
Sam frowned at her rearview mirror, and I glanced back over my shoulder as we pulled away from the hospital.
“That could’ve gone better,” Foster muttered.
“It could have gone a lot worse,” Aideen said. “What if we hadn’t been there? What if Damian and Sam hadn’t been there?”
“More soldiers would’ve died,” Frank said. “It could’ve been worse, but it was still a cluster fuck.”
The smooth asphalt turned into the rapid bumps of the cobblestones, only to return to asphalt as we crossed over Main Street.
“I could use a drink,” Sam said, glancing at the Trailhead Brewery as we passed. “I could really use a drink.”
“You and me both,” Frank said.
Main Street wasn’t as busy as it would’ve normally been on a regular weeknight, but frankly, I was surprised to see anyone out and about. I guess some folks wouldn’t leave their town, no matter what was happening. And I could respect that. Crazy as it might be.
I glanced down the other side of Main Street, catching sight of the Conservatory and an antique shop before we rounded the bend and the Missouri River stretched out in front of us.
“That’s hard to miss,” Sam said.
I leaned over so I could see past her head out the front window, and I cursed. The bony masts of Graybeard’s ship stretched into the evening sky like some horrible Halloween float given life. We slowed at a stop sign before Sam gunned it and steered us toward a small roundabout and the empty parking lot beside it.
Trees flanked us to the north as we stepped out of the black SUV. From there, I could see the skeletons scampering across the sails. The strange flesh in the upturned skull of the harbinger was a bizarre sight before the grounded barge on the riverfront. A floating u-shaped dock led the way out to the old shipwreck. Graybeard lowered a plank of what looked like femurs and shin bones interlaced with thick sinew. The skeletons that surged across the deck wore no flesh. Some wore old and tattered uniforms, while others wore nothing but ancient leather shorts.
The staccato rhythm that the skeletons used to communicate echoed through the night air like a discordant symphony.
“It does send a message,” I said.
Sam didn’t look up from her phone. Her fingers blazed across the keyboard on the screen, before she blew out a breath. “Vik already heard about Graybeard,” she said. “He’s on his way with Zola. Wants to meet with us.”
“Wants to meet with us in a good way?” Frank asked. “Or in a ‘we should probably head for Rivercene’ way?”
“I guess we’ll see,” Sam said, flashing him a humorless smile.
I whispered a curse and pulled out my phone, expecting to see a message from Zola, and hoping she wouldn’t be pissed. It was a message, and if anything, she sounded as if she was in good spirits.
I read the
message back. “I heard Vik’s ass pucker from across the room when he learned about Graybeard.”
Some of the tension left Sam’s posture. “At least it doesn’t sound like he’s pissed.”
“Vik’s always been a gentleman,” Frank said. “How many times has he let you down? I mean really? Once? Maybe twice?”
“Still a better record than me,” I said, leading the way onto the wooden dock. My hand slid along the black metal railing. I glanced down at the water and jumped. “Christ. That’ll keep people away.”
Foster glided to the railing and hurried along it beside me. “Oh, he’s got sailors in the water. Smart. They’re more attuned to vibrations than anything else would be.”
“I imagine that’s so they can sense the water witches coming,” Aideen said.
“They certainly sensed you lot,” a voice boomed from the Bone Sails’ deck. “Reckon if they can hear the most dangerous necromancer in two states, they’ll be able to see the water witches coming.”
Nixie stepped up beside Graybeard and rested her arms on the railing. “And it doesn’t hurt that I helped him test that theory,” she said with a small smile. “The crew makes a hell of an early warning system. Although some of them aren’t too happy about it.”
“Aye, some of them find the water a bit too chilly.”
I supposed it made sense, in a strange way. The crew of the Bone Sails were used sailing on an ocean of fire. If they could feel temperatures well enough, the Missouri River would be icy by comparison.
Graybeard started toward the plank, and Nixie followed. They both made it look easy, walking across those rounded bones, but I’d been on the spongy deck of that ship before. I remembered how it gave and flexed, making it even harder to stand on than a regular boat. Except maybe a bass boat on choppy water. I laughed as a random memory surfaced.
“What the hell are you laughing at?” Sam asked.
“I was just remembering the canoe trip Dad took us on.”
Sam groaned.
“What happened?” Frank asked.
“Sam kept trying to stand up,” I said. “Every time she did, she dumped Dad in the river. Funniest damn thing I’d ever seen.”
