by Drue M Scott
“We need to get to a hospital!”
“That is true, but you need the soul sharing your head space to come help me first.”
Surprise lit up Haley’s face along with confusion and fear. Shifting back on the bed several inches, she lifted her brow and tilted her head; the pounding of her heart began its attempt to muffle all sound again. Stewart?
“We’ve not the time for doubts and questions. I need the energy to keep this man alive while we get him to the hospital. His soul is weak, his wound still bleeds, and time is not our friend.” Mathieu hastily stated with the smallest amount of anger in his voice. “I wasted too much of this man’s few remaining minutes questioning your involvement and relation to Jacob, we cannot afford to waste any more.” Mathieu flashed his friendly smile while emphasizing the urgency of the situation and his clear knowledge there was more happening than what could be readily seen. “I can either cage up his life-force to soothe his pain, or I can keep his vital organs functioning, but I cannot do both.” He paused to take a breath. “Alone.” Looking at Haley with impatience on his face, Mathieu’s arms flexed cradling Mikale in his lap. Simply keeping his own strength present and protecting Mikale caused his chest to heave with heavy breaths. “He has not fractured, but the process is imminent.”
“Stewart!” Haley exclaimed as she leapt from the bed to Mathieu’s side. Placing her hand to Mikale’s chest, Haley’s tears continued to flow. “He can save Mikale.” A brief moment of confusion washed over her. She didn’t know either of these men, and the stranger holding Mikale was a mystery that frightened her. How does he know about souls and energy? How does he know Jacob? Stewart had shared so much of his love for Mikale when he intermeshed with her that she now shared that concern, but in truth, no one present would have been important to her days earlier. “He needs you.” Despite her lack of understanding, she knew that saving Mikale was important. If nothing else, it might redeem some part of her soul that she had let whither over the years. Revenge only changes the future. But it had fundamentally changed her. Haley knew she wasn’t the woman she had been before scouring the earth to exact revenge on Johnathon. Now though, a semblance of that person, the woman she let fade into nothing, was returning. She didn’t expressly love Mikale, but she felt a love for him that she understood was pure. It was the purest thing, besides her hate, that she had felt in more years than she would readily admit to. “You can save him, right?” Finally, her tears slowed to a stop. I can’t be so focused on my bullshit right now! Calm warmth swelled up inside her. Blue-white light, barely perceivable, radiated from her hand pressed against Mikale’s chest. Swirling around her arm and spider-webbing throughout Mikale, the light pulsed in steadily deeper hues until it darkened beyond visible sight.
Peering up, Mathieu gazed into Haley’s eyes. “WE can save him.”
##
Time felt more like an adversary to Vevila as she peered out through Sergei’s eyes watching the street lights and old growth trees speed by. Patience had always been a virtue, albeit a hidden one, that Vevila held as a core value within her. But her resolve was being tested beyond what she felt she could stand. The distinctness of the area was certainly beautiful, much greener than she could remember seeing, but her anxiety about the situation stole the wonder she would have normally felt. Their flight, only four and half hours, may as well have been days. She knew that Sergei had done his best, and was continuing to do his best, to get them to the destination that pulled at her life-force, but the urgency she felt in Stewart’s pulse of energy worried her. It had felt so desperate. She could not recall having ever experienced such a random burst of raw power. Corporeal travel, or travel by normal human standards, felt so primitive to her. If I had power enough to leave Sergei’s body... Her thoughts, uncontrolled, plagued her deeply. Though Sergei sped through the outskirts of Portland, it felt painfully slow to her. Each dotted line on the road before them passed slower and slower as the determination within her grew. We have to make it.
“Left,” Vevila bolted from her thoughts to shout out directions.
“When?”
“Now!” Her voice broke under the stress she felt. She didn’t know what she was walking herself and her host into, but she knew she had to get them there. Stewart’s energy pulse was a cry for help. Who else heard it? She cringed at the idea of the varying possibilities that answered her self-question. She knew of no greater evil than Devin, and his power was only second to that of Kyna. Why have I not sensed her presence? Though she knew the question was quite possibly one of the most important to answer, it fell quickly away under the urgency of all the other pressing quandaries. How badly was Stewart hurt? Where was Devin? How was she going to gain enough strength to be of any real assistance? WHEN THE FUCK ARE WE GOING TO GET THERE?
Whipping the silver Ford Fiesta sharply to the left and narrowly missing oncoming traffic, Sergei fought with the idea of how crazily he was driving. The roads were wet and their low budget vehicle, the only car Hertz had available on such short notice, was not meant to take corners like a Ferrari. His heart pounded and palms sweated profusely, but his eyesight was beyond perfect. Vevila had shared small bursts of her own energy to sharpen some of his senses. Sergei’s hand/eye coordination was damn near perfect, but the insanity of it was frazzling his already weakened nerves. Tensed muscles and a cramping back threatened to exhaust him well before they reached their destination. And the drain on Vevila would inevitably carry a cost, as well. Siting firmly upright and tensed, beads of liquid stress began to form on his forehead. With his shoulders nearly touching his ears and his chest heaving with each breath, Sergei knew his stamina would not endure much longer.
“Where are we going?” He questioned as calmly as his flustered soul would permit.
“This way,” Vevila quickly snapped back forcing Sergei to make a right. The tires squealed on the wet pavement as they slid fully into the opposite lane.
“Damn lucky nothing was coming our way!” Sergei couldn’t help but point out the obvious. “We won’t get there at all if we end up dead.”
“I already feel we are too late,” Vevila tried to calm her voice. “The risks have to be taken.”
Accepting, at least for the moment, that danger would be a regular part of his life with Vevila, Sergei offered up full control of his body. The act of doing so caused his mind to ache, but that was far less fatiguing than what his body felt under Vevila “juicing” him up. Immediately, his shoulders dropped, and his composure softened. He was still nervous, and frightened, but the difference was noticeably seen and felt.
“Thank you,” Pushing the pedal to the floor and sliding through another left turn, Vevila acknowledged Sergei relinquishing his control. It was much easier for her to assume control than to give energy to a body that had to listen to her directions and respond accordingly. Eliminating one of the steps in the process saved both her energy and his sanity. It wasn’t wholly without consequence, though. Heightening Sergei’s fear, it conjured up a sudden memory of being on a rollercoaster as a child. The memory forced itself to the forefront of both their minds. Vevila could feel and, in a distant way, see the day as clearly as she saw the dampened road and trees flying by outside the car. The mangled mess of steel track weaving around itself in so many directions it was a bowl of orange and blue spaghetti. The heavy clicks as they rose to the top of the lift hill vibrated in their chest. The unbearable heat of the day coated Sergei in sweat. His hands wrapped tightly around the shoulder restraint stole the blood from his fingers. White-knuckling it as they crested the top and began speeding down the first hill, voice-stealing terror seized Sergei motionless. The rampant fear he felt then matched the panic he felt now. “Could we maybe not flood my senses with your childhood trauma?” Vevila inched her words into his mind through the circling horror Sergei felt. “It would make this whole thing a lot easier for us both.”
“Sorry.” Sergei knew there was nothing he consciously did to spur the memory, and therefore, nothing he co
uld really do to curb it, but he equally knew that it was a recollection that was not helping the current situation.
Screeching to a halt, which despite wearing his seatbelt threw Sergei into the steering wheel, Vevila shouted. “HERE!” Throwing the car into park and exiting without turning the engine off, Sergei, still under Vevila’s control, bolted towards the hospital entrance. “He’s in there.”
“Are we leaving the car in the road?” Though he tried to look back at the compact econo-car, Sergei could feel Vevila tugging him towards the hospital in front of them.
Set back from the road they had driven up, the hospital appeared more like an office building to Sergei. It had colorful signs and well-lit entrance-ways but towered upward more than it did outward. Accustomed to sprawling hospitals he had had the displeasure of visiting on several occasions, he would not have assumed “hospital” had there not been a large red sign stating it to be so. The distance they ran to the entrance was only slightly uphill and to the left, but it felt as though a mountain lay before him. Vevila had given him control again. Each step, pounding out discomfort in his knees, was a labored task. The panic in Vevila was becoming heavier and more erratic, her thoughts jumbled and incoherent. Regardless of how he tried to quell her concerns, the one thought that beat against his mind harder than his feet pounded against the pavement was: what torture caused Stewart to cry out?
Bursting through the doors, Sergei paused. He was out of breath. Peering to his left and down the hall to his right, neither direction felt correct. Vevila? His mind tried to question without speaking aloud. Which way? Without warning, total body control ceased to be his, again.
Let me, Vevila snapped turning Sergei right. His sudden pivot and jarringly precise accuracy appeared robotic and disconnected to the many waiting room patrons. With impossibly perfect movements that were faster than normal, they arrived at the elevators. Several nurses and a security guard followed behind but could barely keep up.
They aren’t going to be too happy with us! Attempting to edge his words past Vevila’s worry. They have cameras in these places.
“We can deal with that when we get to Stewart.”
IF we get to…
“HERE!” Stopping as though his body had slammed into an invisible wall, Sergei stood straight and solid. There was no indication that he had just been running. To any outside observer, he appeared to have been standing there all along.
“Excuse me, sir!” The out-of-breath, running nurse shouted as she circled the nurse’s station a few rooms down from where Sergei stood. “You need to…”
A blinding white light and deafening squeal interrupted the moment. All the patient monitors on the floor began erratically beeping, and the fire alarm sounded triggering the sprinklers to burst into action. The nurse and security guard in shock stopped dead in their tracks. Panic broke out.
##
“Is he stable?” Harley could barely speak. Her throat was raw and breathing labored. “How long does Stewart need to stay… um… in him?” She felt like she knew the answer, but needed some form of confirmation. Mathieu hadn’t said a single word since leaving Jacob’s house. It was Johnathan’s house, right? The confusion boggled her mind momentarily. Johnathan had passed on to reconstitution many times since their last encounter. He had been an architect or something. She was certain that his lust for death had grown, but that was all she knew. What did he do to have such a house? Sidetracked, she began twirling her hair with her right hand while biting the nails on her left. The strength that came from what she had considered to be normal was wavering. How many years did I let this all fester?
“I think so,” Mathieu kept his eyes fixed on Mikale’s face and his hand wrapped tightly around the patient’s. “‘Til we know he will recover.”
Unaware Mathieu had answered her questions, Haley continued to drift in thought. Her reality floated like flower peddles carried on the wind, wavering, twisting, rising then falling. Every thought required immediate attention, yet none lingered for more than a few moments. Where is Kyna? She shifted herself uncomfortably in the stiff hospital chair. Mathieu sat on the side of the bed. She was at the foot of it, and neither looked at the other. Mikale was motionless under the cream-white blanket the nurses had pulled over him in recovery. The surgery had gone well, but he was not as stable as the surgeon had hoped. Did he lose too much blood? The clock above his Mikale’s bed ticked away seconds that Haley could feel. The whole room was out of a poorly budgeted soap opera with plastic chairs and freshly applied wall coverings that bubbled up at the seams. Why does Mathieu care? Shifting her attention from biting off part of her thumb nail, Haley starred at the man who arrived just in time to help. How’d he know to come to the house? Flinching under the pain of tearing the nail back deeper than she had intended, she dropped her head. How does Mathieu know Jacob? Does that mean he knew Johnathan? Briefly diverting her attention again, she looked at Mikale. Why does Stewart love this guy? Who is Brennan? She wanted nothing more than to stop the onslaught of questions her mind posed, but that would require speaking to Mathieu in more detail than she felt comfortable with. Why? Each nurse that passed the door hesitated as if checking that all three “crazy people,” who had burst into the hospital, were still there. They’re gonna have questions sooner rather than later. Haley began concocting stories and elaborate reasons why she was there. Mikale is my estranged brother. She stopped biting her nails but remained spinning her hair around the index finger of her right hand. I’ve been searching for him since he and his husband, boyfriend, oh shit! Is that who Brennan is? Dropping her hand from her hair, she gazed intently at Mikale’s face. So, if Brennan is his boyfriend, and I am his sister, who the fuck is this guy?
“Can I get you something from the vending machines? A cup of coffee, maybe?” One of the friendlier nurses poked her head into the room. As soft spoken as the woman was, Haley knew some serious sass was just beneath the surface. The tilt of her head, the spark in her eyes, and the bright red lipstick lent a good feel for who she was. The dreadlocks pulled back and tied together were a good indicator, as well.
“I believe we are okay for now, but thank you.” Haley softly shifted her line of sight to the caramel-skin nurse in dark purple scrubs. Katahniesha. “How do you pronounce your name?” Haley’s curiosity and the woman’s friendliness distracted her from the swirling tornado in her mind. The break from it was welcomed.
“Katahniesha, but most everyone around here call me Kat, or Sha-Sha.” Stepping further into the room, Katahniesha smiled pulling a Snickers bar from her front scrub’s pocket. “You know, honey, you three are the talk of the floor tonight.” Handing the candy bar to Haley, she bent over. “The PPD are on their way, and though I don’t have much faith in the police around here, they can get pretty antsy about shootings.” Though she whispered, her words caught Mathieu’s attention. He didn’t look away from Mikale though. “You better have a better story than a stray bullet.”
“How much time do we have?” Haley whispered back as she tore the wrapper of the candy bar open. “Thanks,” she nodded her gratitude lifting the peanut filled chocolate to her mouth.
“Less than 15.” Katahniesha bobbed her head in recognition of Haley’s appreciation, winked her eye, and put her back to Mikale and Mathieu. “Are you safe?” The concern she felt traveled in waves Haley swore were visible. “I can pass any message you like to the police before they enter the room.”
“Thank you,” Haley smiled in what she hoped resembled levity. “Both of these men are gentler and more respectful than any man I have ever known.” Haley understood, in some ways, she was lying but only about Mathieu. From what Stewart had shared, willingly or otherwise, about Mikale, she felt full confidence in speaking to his character. Leaning forward in her uncomfortable chair and placing her hand to Katahniesha’s, Haley felt a surge of beautiful energy. It was warm and friendly. She was a soul achieving true self-awareness. “I like you.” Haley paused a moment to set the candy down and grasp bot
h the nurse’s hands. “You have an energy that is remarkable. You are what is right in this world.”
Blushing slightly, Kat tightened the distance between them. “I got you covered, sweetie.” Hugging Haley she whispered, “I can delay them for a bit, but get your stories straight.” Twisting fluidly on her heels, Kat moved to exit the small, stuffy hospital room. The swagger in her walk was mesmerizing. She carried herself with a confidence that was contagious. Despite being a rather short woman, Haley knew that Kat could master a room full of bikers in seconds.
“I know you were listening,” Fully moving her stare to Mathieu, “and what do you suppose we are going to do when the cops arrive?”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Mathieu took his eyes from Mikale for the first time since arriving. “I know you have questions. So do I.” Letting go of Mikale’s hand, Mathieu shifted himself and angled his shoulders to Haley. “I would suggest you…” Interrupted by Mikale’s heart monitor suddenly going erratic and the fire alarm blaring, Mathieu’s face contorted in shock. Bright white light filled the room blinding them both. Screams from down the hall could barely be heard above the high-pitched squeal that felt internal as much as external. Looking around the room, Mathieu noticed Mikale grimacing, and Haley noticed a shadowed figured in the hallway just outside their doorway. The shadow of the figure peering into the room blurred in and out of focus. Jumping up towards the door, as if slamming it shut would stop a supernatural assailant; Haley kicked her plastic chair behind her. Leaping up from his cheap seat, Mathieu was only a second behind her.