I leaned in to look through the magnifier, but not being versed in vascular anatomy, all I really saw was a jagged gash in a dead woman’s neck. I kept staring, but apparently the angle at which I was leaning was starting to affect my balance because a nasty wave of vertigo was causing my head to swim. That being the case, I decided I should just step back and rely on Doctor Sanders to explain.
“Okay, just a sec…” Ben interjected. “She bled ta’ death so that would make all kinds of sense, but you also just said you think the bite came after she was already dead. So how does that work?”
“I’m coming to that,” Doctor Sanders replied. “The sample and vein section we excised bore indications of a large gauge needle puncture.”
“So the killer drained ‘er with a needle?”
“Most likely a catheter and IV tubing, but yes.”
“Sonofabitch,” Ben muttered then let out a thoughtful sigh.
Doctor Sanders voice floated into my ears with a questioning note firmly attached. “Mister Gant?”
A handful of seconds later Ben’s echoing words followed. “Hey, Row… You’re pretty quiet over there. You gettin’ somethin’?”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to answer him. He was, however, about to get his earlier wish for the dramatic.
CHAPTER 22:
The onset of the vertigo should have been my first clue that something wasn’t right. Unfortunately, I had allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the almost complete lack of usual warning signs leading up to it. Therefore, by the time I had actually backed away from Emily Foster’s corpse, it was too late. Of course, since I knew this moment was really just another step in an already runaway supernatural process, I was also painfully aware that it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. Truth be told it was already too late the day I awoke with the inexplicable pain in the side of my neck.
“Rowan?” Ben’s voice hurtled past me once again, pausing in its flight just long enough to send a distorted echo down my ear canal before continuing along its random trajectory through the room.
I don’t know how long it actually took me to figure out that the ricocheting noise was my name being called, but it really wasn’t important. Whether minutes or only fractions of a second passed, the point was moot. For me, time was no longer a constant.
For a third time, he called my name, adding even more insistence as if I simply wasn’t listening. I still didn’t answer. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I simply couldn’t form the words, either physically or mentally. In fact, all I could manage to do was stare downward at the edge of the slide out drawer but, more specifically, at my hand resting upon it. Of course, it wasn’t so much that my hand was resting on the metal as much as the fact that it was also in full contact with Emily Foster’s arm.
I couldn’t help but stare in wonderment. My right hand was still sheathed in the surgical glove Doctor Sanders had insisted I wear. Heretofore, even such a thin layer of latex had seemed to be an insurmountable barrier whenever I was purposely attempting to connect with the dead. But now, that had obviously changed. With a single accidental touch I was now spiraling into an encounter with this dead woman’s horrors, and there was little I could do to stop it from happening.
The dizziness was taking over now, swirling around behind my eyes as my stomach churned out of synch, making a strong bid to work itself into a frenzy of nausea. I could feel my heart thumping just behind my face instead of in my chest where it belonged, and an odd pressure forced outward from inside my skull. The headache that had been knocking on the back of my head let itself in and fell into a wildly syncopated rhythm with the frantic beat.
Ben’s voice corkscrewed its way through the rush of blood in my ears. “Somethin’s wrong… Felicity? You with us?”
Hearing him call my wife’s name sent a wave of panic ripping through my intestines. In the past few moments, I had all but forgotten that she was fighting to anchor me in the realm of the living. I now feared that the solid connection she had formed to protect me was now placing her in jeopardy.
I tried to alleviate the threat by releasing my grip on her hand but immediately found that the signals from my brain were being stopped well before they made it to my fingers. Realizing that there was nothing I could do, the terror now shot upward through the pit of my stomach and settled into my chest. As it began spreading out into a cold fear, a second voice slammed headlong against my eardrums.
“ Caorthann,” my wife said, calling my name in Gaelic.
What I managed to glean from the sound was not that she was in distress but that she was concerned. While that fact didn’t completely quell the panic, it at least put a damper on the fear that she was in any danger. If she was talking to me, then she was obviously in much better shape than I was at the moment.
The influx of relief forced my guard down just enough that the incorporeal Emily Foster gained an even more solid foothold in my psyche. In a flash she slipped through and demanded to be heard. I had no other choice but to listen.
I felt myself falling, but it wasn’t the dreamlike sensation of endless descent to which I was accustomed. This was the real thing. My knees buckled. Soon, what followed was my body pitching to the side and then back. The fall came slowly at first, then with an ever-increasing rate as I crumpled in place.
I heard Felicity yelp. “Rowan!”
As I hastened toward the floor, I felt a quick tug on my hand. I thought I heard my wife let out another sharp cry, and then I experienced the sensation of cold tile slamming against my back and shoulder. Not to be outdone, my head cracked against the floor, sending a fresh and very intense pain to join forces with the migraine as everything shuddered. As it morphed into a dull ache, I could feel the coolness of the floor seeping into my cheek. A split second later the air was unexpectedly forced from my lungs by a squirming weight landing hard on top of me. I realized, as the object continued moving and then scrambled to the side, that it was Felicity. My hand was still locked tight with hers, and I had apparently dragged her down with me.
“Are you all right?” Ben’s voice bounced through the room, but I knew he wasn’t speaking to me.
“Aye,” Felicity answered him in slow motion. “Rowan? Rowan?!”
I could feel something prying at my fingers. I was struggling to stay planted in this plane, but a tortured spirit had a much different idea about where I needed to be. Emily Foster had something to show me, and she was pulling me backward into darkness in an insane tug of war across the veil.
And as I expected she was already starting to win.
“ Just a little sting…” an androgynous and wholly unfamiliar voice echoed. But it wasn’t in my ears; it was inside my head.
I can’t see anything.
The world is completely black for me.
I feel pressure against my neck.
“ Don’t worry,” the voice says again. “It will all be over soon…very soon… I envy you. To be chosen like this. It’s such an honor… I wish it were me…”
I still can’t move. I’m facing the tiled wall lined with stainless steel doors, and I see shadows moving across it. There is a hard pressure against my neck now. Although I can barely make it out over the din of blood rushing in my ears, I can hear what sounds to be a flurry of activity just out of my line of sight.
My ankles are burning… The rope is biting into them hard.
I can no longer feel my feet. They’ve gone completely numb.
Dizziness…
Headache…
I wish I could see.
I won’t be afraid… I won’t be afraid…
I am chosen…
It is an honor…
I have been prepared…
I can hear the chanting now…
The time must be near…
It is an honor to be chosen…
It is an honor to be chosen…
I won’t be afraid…
The last thing I heard before blacking out was Doctor Sanders
voice puncturing the drone in my ears with a sharp note of controlled alarm threaded through her words. “I can’t stop the bleeding. Get the paramedics now!”
CHAPTER 23:
I slowly opened one eye and let it roam. There was no mistaking where I was based simply on the institutional colors now bleeding into my limited field of vision. But, even if the drab hues didn’t give it away, there was a failsafe to back them up, that being the antiseptic smell that was now tingling my nostrils. I closed the eye once again and tried to remember what was going on prior to this particular moment in my life.
Unfortunately, my head was throbbing too much to allow for anything resembling deep thought. I remembered being at the morgue, accidentally touching Emily Foster’s corpse, then becoming acquainted with the floor of the autopsy suite. All of that pretty much consumed the space I had left in my grey matter that wasn’t being taken up with pain. However, there was still enough room in between the cycling aches for me to wonder where my wife happened to be.
“Felicity?” I barely croaked in a dry, wispy voice.
I didn’t get an answer, but since I could barely hear myself, maybe she couldn’t hear me at all. I cleared my throat then opened both of my eyes this time and lifted my head slightly as I sent them searching. To my disappointment, there wasn’t a single petite redhead in sight. In fact, I appeared to be the only one present here in hospital hell.
I laid my head back against the pillow as the throbbing started to increase. I took a moment to slowly adjust my position when I felt the sore spot on the right side of my scalp. That triggered a vague memory of my head hitting the floor, which I suppose would explain the whole lapse of memory. At least, as far as my addled senses were concerned it did.
I ran down a mental list just for the sake of my sanity. I knew who I was, I knew where I was, and I was fairly certain I knew what day it was, although I didn’t have anything or anyone handy to confirm those facts. I even remembered the incident that had most likely landed me here. I just couldn’t remember the time between then and now.
That annoyed me. But, what truly had me concerned was the fact that I didn’t know where Felicity was or, more importantly, her condition. I was relatively certain she was uninjured. After all, she had been speaking to me, and I even recalled Ben asking her if she was okay. Unfortunately, my brain was in no hurry to remember any of the other pertinent details, no matter how much I willed it to do so.
After a minute or two passed, I started pondering the idea of getting out of the bed and going to find my wife or, at the very least, someone who could tell me where she was. As I started to reach for the side railing I felt a tug on my finger, which led me to realize something was attached to it. Feeling around with my other hand I felt a tug on it as well. I held them both up for a bleary-eyed inspection that ended with a heavy sigh. Getting out of the bed now became a bit more complicated between the IV and the monitor hookups.
Of course, if I couldn’t go to them I figured I might as well bring them to me. Taking hold of the pulse oximeter probe that was firmly clamped to my finger, I popped it off, laid back, closed my eyes, and waited.
As expected, a shrill tone immediately bit into my ears. Even though I knew it was coming, I groaned in response to the noise anyway. I didn’t bother to open my eyes, I simply laid there, unmoving all except for the handful of muscles that were necessary to twist my face into an annoyed grimace.
Soft but slightly hurried footfalls sounded a few moments later. I felt someone fumbling with my finger, and then the mild pressure clamped down upon it once again. There was a chirp, and then relative quiet fell again.
“Where’s my wife?” I asked, still holding my eyes tightly shut.
“Mister Gant, you’re awake I see,” a woman’s voice said.
“Very astute observation, but I’m afraid that doesn’t answer my question,” I grumbled.
“I believe she just went to the lounge down the hall to get herself a soft drink,” the voice told me. “She should be back any minute.”
“So, she’s okay?”
“Of course. And you will be too if you just rest.”
I could hear her punching buttons on the monitor. It would occasionally chirp, give an abbreviated alarm tone, and then fall quiet again.
“Can’t you just shut that damn thing off?” I asked.
“I’m resetting it. Don’t worry. The sensor just slipped off your finger.”
“No, actually I pulled it off,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because I needed someone to answer my question.”
“We have call buttons for that.”
“I know. I’ve had the displeasure of visiting several such accommodations in the past.”
“Then why didn’t you use it?”
“My way was faster.”
“Well, you can’t just take the probe off your finger, Mister Gant.”
“Seems to me I just did. Want to see me do it again?”
“Aye, is he giving you trouble then?” Felicity’s voice entered the conversation from what sounded to be several feet away. Hearing her prompted me to open my eyes, but of course the first person I saw was the nurse, who was sporting an unnaturally black, shoulder-length pageboy and scrubs patterned with a stylized avian print.
“He was asking for you,” the nurse said. “He’s grouchy but we’re used to that around here.”
“Just standing up for my rights,” I mumbled.
“More like being a curmudgeon, I would say,” my wife replied. “Let Amanda do her job and stop giving her such a hard time. She’s been taking very good care of you all afternoon.”
While she was talking, the nurse adjusted the angle of the bed so that I was inclined enough to see her without straining. Felicity was now standing near the footboard with a thin smile on her lips.
“How is that?” the nurse asked. “Comfortable?”
“Close enough,” I muttered.
“You’re a horrible patient, do you know that?” my wife asked.
“I happen to know you aren’t any better,” I returned.
“Aye, but we’re talking about you.”
“The doctor should be coming by to check on you shortly,” the nurse interjected. “If you need anything, please use the call button.”
“Okay,” I told her. “Sorry to be a pain.”
“You’re forgiven,” she replied with a smile. “Besides, shift changes in less than an hour. You can grumble at someone else.”
“Can I ask you something?” I said to her as she turned to go.
She twisted back around to face me. “Sure.”
“That design on your scrubs. Is it supposed to be geese or ducks?”
“Swans, actually.”
“Really…” I mumbled.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“No… ummm… Thanks.”After the nurse left the room I rested my gaze on Felicity. “Swans, go figure.”
“Do you think it’s some kind of sign?” she asked, but I could tell she wasn’t all that serious.
“Hell, I don’t know…” I grumbled.
“I’m sure it’s just a bizarre coincidence. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah… You’re probably right.”
She pulled a chair alongside the bed and took a seat then carefully slipped her fingers around mine. When I looked down I took notice of the fact that her right sleeve was rolled up and an elastic bandage was woven around her hand and wrist.
I furrowed my brow and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Of course,” she replied, shaking her head. “Why?”
“Your hand,” I said, motioning half-heartedly with my free appendage.
“Just a sprain,” she said with a quick shrug. “I twisted it when you went down, and then I fell on top of you.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.”
“You can make amends later,” she said with a small grin. “How
are you feeling?”
“My head is killing me,” I said. “Other than that, I’m just really tired.”
“Well I’m not surprised. You’re body has been through quite a shock,” she told me. “They estimated you lost just under two pints of blood before arriving here, and you were already running low as it was.”
“I bled again?” I reached up with my free hand to feel my neck even though I didn’t expect to find anything of consequence. However, to my surprise there was a heavy bandage taped firmly in place.
Felicity nodded. “Yes, this time there’s actually a wound.” She paused then added, “And the bleeding was much worse too. It didn’t seem to want to stop.”
“Wonderful,” I groaned. “So I’m still alive why?”
“Because I told her it was mine,” Felicity said.
“Told who what?”
“Emily Foster. You don’t remember any of that?”
I shook my head slightly then grimaced. “No. I don’t. I vaguely recall somebody saying something about bleeding, but I actually assumed I was here because I hit my head. I definitely remember that part.”
“That really wasn’t that bad,” she replied. “Just a bit of a bump. The doctor says you don’t even have a concussion.”
“Well, at least there’s that. So, are you saying you were actually able to communicate with Emily Foster’s spirit?”
She chuckled. “Of course I was. You aren’t the only Witch here, you know. So do you remember anything else?”
“Not much really,” I replied. “Not after hitting the floor anyway. I do feel like there’s something rolling around in there, but I just can’t nail it down.”
Felicity gathered herself up from the chair then lowered the railing on the side of the bed and perched herself next to me. As she softly brushed my hair away from my face she said, “Maybe if you just relax it will come to you.”
“You could be right,” I agreed then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Relaxing wasn’t one of my more proficient skills, but I knew I desperately needed to remember what I had seen if I was going to help stop this killer and, more importantly, save Judith Albright’s life if at all possible.
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