by Scott Eder
Blah-gray doors stood silent sentinels at the end of the short hall. Above them “BURN –NIT” proclaimed the purpose of the room beyond in faded, blood-red letters. The “U” had lost its grip and fallen away from its brothers and sisters.
Please…no.
In the crowd, she focused on the blue pinstripe down the back of the Mayor’s jacket while he walked and schmoozed the media reps, extolling the virtues of St. Matthew’s.
Don’t stop. Stick with the group. Get out of here.
She watched each and every one of those people ignore that hall. It wasn’t bright. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t alive. They didn’t even look down there, opting instead for the warmth and safety of the light. As they strolled by, oohing and aahing over the shiny new paint job and gleaming floors of the other wings, Cassidy flipped her private glances at those doors. She willed her feet to follow the mob of reporters and cameramen, but stopped and let the crowd pass her by.
She licked her top lip, bit down on the bottom. Heart jumping and pounding and twisting, her body remembered. She’d trod this path before, two years ago. Time is a harsh mistress. It sank its claws deep into Cassidy’s brain, ripped out the buried memories, dusted them off and served them fresh and raw.
She hugged herself tight, tried to control the quake that savaged her limbs, and shuffled into the isolated hallway. Thirteen steps from the hallway to the doors. She’d paced it off a thousand times that night.
Thirteen steps, turn, thirteen steps, turn.
Cassidy counted them again, sucking in a tiny breath with each tentative footfall. The acrid smell of cleanser and sulfur clung to the walls and the linoleum.
Not again.
Thirteen steps. Hands clenched, arms rigid, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold metal door.
Turn around. Just go.
Pings from the monitors of that long ago night ricocheted inside her skull. She’d stood in this very spot with her forehead pressed against this same cold door and listened to the rustling and frantic scuffing of comfortable shoes from the other side while her little one screamed.
Those bastards wouldn’t let Cassidy in. A trained and experienced EMT and they wouldn’t let her in to tend and comfort her own child—said she was too close and wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Sobs burst from her as she slid to the floor against the peeled-paint wall; her legs no longer willing to bear her weight.
She knew what was coming as the memories replayed. Dreaded it, but welcomed the end to this revisited slice of hell. Silence. No movement, no machines, nothing. When she was here last, she was on her feet and peering through the small window when all went still. That’s when the doctor turned to her and, with a slight dip and shake of her head, destroyed Cassidy’s world.
The agony she thought secured in the depths of her heart flared up, boiled over, and left her a puddle of emotion to stagnate on the floor.
Slumped in the corner for who knew how long, she eventually stopped sobbing. Spent and numb, she clutched her knees to her chest.
Someone grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.
“I told you,” Gray spat the words into her ear, “Not to leave my side.”
“But I-”
Down the hall, the speeches continued. With his back to the rest of the hospital, Gray shook her. Black streaks zigzagged across his eyes, but they flashed and disappeared so quickly that Cassidy wondered if she really saw them. The burning hatred he communicated through his fingertips told her the real story.
“You can feel that, can’t you, my disdain for your kind?”
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to register.
Feel it? How could he know?
“Yes,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I see it in your face, in the way you look at me now.” He traced her jaw line and bared his teeth in a cruel mockery of a smile.
“How did you like the tour?” His tone was offhand, casual, like he was talking to an old high school buddy. “Bring back memories for you?”
“You son of a bitch.” Realization lent Cassidy strength. She yanked one arm free. “You set me up.”
He sneered and checked his watch. “Come, my dear, time to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She tried to jerk her other arm free, but he held on.
Gray’s fingers chilled, sent an icy sensation into her arm. Cassidy tried to pull away, but her arm failed to respond. The cold spread quickly, jetting through her veins until she felt numb.
She wanted to scream, to run away, to kick this asshole in the nuts, anything, but her body refused her commands.
“Shall we?” Gray held out his arm like he was escorting her to a gala.
Her traitorous arm wrapped gently around his.
“Oh, stop scowling and smile.”
Cassidy’s lips curved. Stop that! Her mind fought off the frigid grasp of his control, desperately hanging on to her small bastion of rebellion.
Gray led them down the stairs and out the front door at a pace that suggested some urgent matter elsewhere. She railed at her limbs, pleaded with them to stop, but she matched him stride for stride.
While they were inside, the clouds had moved in. The promise of a downpour drove off all but the most desperate reporters. They eyed Gray and Cassidy’s march down the red carpet. Some snapped pictures, while others finished their cigarettes.
Gray’s hired goon opened the limo’s back door. The interior was dark, a gaping black maw that would suck Cassidy into the oblivion found in Gray’s touch.
I can’t let this happen, can’t go in there. Terror ate at her. Her heart should have been beating out of her chest, but its pace remained normal, untroubled. A single tear escaped and rolled down the curvature of her forced smile.
Surprised, Gray gave her an appreciative look. “I knew you were strong.” He caressed the moisture away with a brush of his knuckles. “I will enjoy this…relationship.”
Cassidy’s lips trembled.
“Get in the car.” Alexander commanded through a tight smile as he watched the reactions of the reporters. She bent down, setting one foot in the car.
Cassidy focused her will, fighting against Gray’s near-absolute control.
A photographer jumped out of line and shot a close-up. The flash went off, slashing Gray across the eyes. His control slipped.
“No.” Cassidy pulled free and fell to the ground. Warmth and, more importantly, control rushed back into her system. Weak, she crawled a few feet away and opened her mouth to scream.
Gray’s whisper cut her off. “You scream, you die. Right here and now.”
Cassidy didn’t doubt he’d kill her. He reached out a hand, presumably to help her up, but she knew it was only for show.
“Last chance. Get in.”
“I will not.” Cassidy spoke through clenched teeth.
“Ms. Sinclair, I am sorry you are not feeling well.” Gray’s raised voice carried to everyone in the vicinity. “Please contact my secretary to reschedule your exclusive interview.” He leaned down so only she could hear. “Say hello to the Knights for me…if you live long enough.”
The Knights? How? Why? Her head pounded with all the disjointed information.
Gray brought his hand to his mouth and coughed into his fist. It sounded odd, like a word in some foreign, guttural language. When he opened his hand, a small black fly with bright green wings took flight. Slow at first, it increased speed as it righted its course and flew toward the hospital.
The limo’s back door slammed behind Gray and his driver peeled out.
What just happened?
Seated on the red carpet, Cassidy felt wrung out. The ordeal in the hospital shredded her emotions and Gray’s crazy puppet-master act left her physically weak. Her limbs shook and she wanted to sit there and cry.
He drove off and left me. Just like that. Why?
One of the reporters came over to check, but Cassidy waved him off. She needed space, and
a drink. Yes, a huge drink and a long swim.
What’s with that fly thing?
She looked toward the hospital, searched for the fly. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to see anything so small, but she could. Clearly. It prowled along the edge of the front door.
A nervous flutter kicked up in her gut, but quickly transformed into a mounting fear that snaked through her intestines, growing stronger. With dread certainty, she knew if that fly got inside, something terrible would happen.
Desperation powered her legs. She surged to her feet and ran toward the doors. If they didn’t open, it couldn’t get in and she’d squish the little pest.
Within her first three steps, the door opened. It flew in.
Cassidy stopped and backed up a step. Everything seemed normal. The hospital didn’t blow up when it got inside.
I’m going crazy. She turned around and walked to the end of the red carpet. Something clattered to the pavement behind her. Cassidy spun in time to see the reporter at the base of the stairs that led up to the entrance drop to the ground. Others rushed to the reporter’s side, but when they got close, they too collapsed.
The hospital doors whooshed and the head nurse staggered forward, mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. All color bled from her skin, leaving it gray and lifeless. Hands, twisted and bent, pawed the air as she stumbled down the steps.
Too stunned to move, Cassidy watched the jerky movements of the nurse’s arms slow, stop and hang limp. She fell forward, skull bouncing off the flagstones. A crimson pool spread around her head like a dirty halo.
Cassidy had to do something, couldn’t just stand there and watch this horror movie unfold, but the bodies of those who got close to the building hadn’t moved.
What if I walk in there and the same thing happens to me? The question locked her in place. On the other hand, can I live with myself if people die because I choose not to act?
She knew the answer. Two years ago she buried herself alongside her daughter, giving up on the wonder life had to offer. Until she met the Knights, she hadn’t missed it.
Her legs wobbled as she took her first step toward the hospital doors.
Chapter 21
THUNDER RUMBLED AS WREN SLUMPED AGAINST the bole of an overgrown oak. The tree hadn’t been tended in years. Its branches spread out too far, their weight causing them to dip down and brush the sparse grass.
“By Thor’s fat arse, Cyndralla’s good.” Magnus craned his head around the thick trunk. “She put us down in sight of St. Matthew’s hospital based on some old black and white photo from twenty years ago. Is that magic, or what?”
Stiff and drained, Wren rolled her eyes. “That bitch can suck it.”
“Wren.”
“Just…let’s get on with this.” The outline of the hospital showed through the leaves. She slid between the intersection of two major branches without disturbing a single leaf and started across the vacant field toward their goal.
Magnus thrashed through the branches like a yeti and when he caught up to Wren he draped his arm across her shoulder. “Look, I know you’re upset about Sparky.”
Wren snorted.
“He can turn it around.” Magnus actually sounded hopeful.
Wren shrugged off his support. She didn’t want to be comforted and she definitely didn’t want to march across an open field toward who knew what.
“Why are we here again?” Wren asked. Magnus didn’t deserve her attitude. He was the only one who stood up for Dev, arguing strongly against sanctions. Stillman ignored his protest and restricted Dev to the Cradle anyway.
Sure. Dev just needs to get control of himself. Good luck with that one. She tried to clear the image of Dev’s fallen face as he heard the proclamation, but it stuck with her like a rash. The hurt look in those eyes broke her heart.
What’s done is done.
“What are we looking for?” She asked, picking a path around the cars lining the drive to the hospital.
“You already asked me that.”
“Well, did you answer?” He so didn’t deserve her attitude.
“Yes. I said that I didn’t know. Something suspicious, I guess.” Magnus placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped. “I’m only going to say this one more time. The stuff with Dev is not your fault. You did what you had to do.”
“I know that, but does he? Will he forgive me?”
He wrapped her in a hug. “In time, bird brain. In time. But, enough of this mushy stuff.” He pushed her away. “Let’s find us something.”
“Something.” She echoed and fell into step beside him. “How do you want to do this? Go in the front, or the back?”
“We should hit the back. Go in through Emergency.” He cocked a grin at her. “Want a broken arm?”
“Want a kick in the bal—something’s happening.” On the red carpet in front of the hospital, a well-dressed man held his hand out to a woman on the ground while a line of reporters snapped pictures.
“Let’s check it out.” Magnus changed direction, trotting toward the front of the building to get a closer look.
“Do we have to? We have our own stuff to deal with,” Wren said.
“It wouldn’t hurt to look. She probably just fell. It’s not like we can get involved with those reporters around anyway.”
The reporters stayed clear of the pair near the limo, so Wren had a decent view. A little closer and she’d be able to make out faces.
“That looks like Ms. Sinclair,” Magnus said.
“Magnus, that’s Alexander Gray.”
They picked up the pace.
What is Cassidy doing with Alexander Gray?
“He just cast a spell.” Magnus shook his head. “I felt the release of his magic.”
Gray got into his limo and drove off with Cassidy spilled on the ground.
Wren and Magnus reached the edge of the pavement, not far from Cassidy. If she yelled, Wren could get her attention.
“Do you taste that?” Magnus asked, working his tongue in and out.
“Uh uh.”
“Ugh. That’s foul.” He gagged and dry heaved. “I can’t even describe it.”
The reporters outside the building fell and a nurse stumbled out the door. Cassidy stood up and leaned toward the hospital.
“Don’t let her get any closer. That spell will kill her.” Before he finished his sentence, Wren sprinted toward Cassidy.
“Cassidy!” Wren shouted, but Cassidy must not have heard because she stumbled toward the hospital.
* * *
Cassidy avoided the blood around the nurse’s head and knelt near her shoulder. The skin of the nurse’s face, neck and hands was a uniform, battleship gray. Cassidy pressed two fingers against her throat and recoiled. The texture was wrong, too hard, and her temp was off the chart cold.
Dead. Before she stood, Cassidy thanked the woman for her kindness two years ago and closed her milky eyes. The reporters looked to be in the same shape. Gray. Cold. Dead.
Oh my god.
A dull pain rooted in her stomach and slowly branched out, following her blood flow. Cassidy stared at the other corpses laid out around her.
Everyone inside can’t be like this, can they? If they are, what can I do to help? She shuddered, wrapped her arms around herself. Tears threatened. No. She looked at the face of the head nurse. I can do something. I have to try.
Determined, she took another step toward the door and found herself on her back looking up into the sky. A dark silhouette blocked the clouds and small hands grabbed her under the arms.
“Pull her back to the curb.”
Magnus? Cassidy’s arms and legs throbbed.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Wren dragged Cassidy down the red carpet with ease.
“Wren? What’s goi—?”
“Shh. Take it easy.” Wren said. “You’ll be alright.”
The further away from the building Wren dragged her, the better Cassidy felt. The pain receded from her limbs, centering once again in her belly u
ntil it disappeared altogether.
“Her color is coming back.” Magnus dropped to one knee at her side. “Another minute or two and we would have lost you, Ms. Sinclair.”
“Cassidy.”
“Alright, Cassidy, how are you feeling?” Magnus helped her into a sitting position.
“Much better now.” Cassidy looked at Wren. “Thank you.”
“You’re crazy,” Wren scolded, “Didn’t you see those dead people? Why would you head into the building?”
“I had to help.”
Wren spun, throwing her hands in the air, and walked off.
“I think the magic is subsiding. That taste is going away,” Magnus said.
“What taste?” Cassidy asked.
“Well,” Magnus stood and looked to the hospital, “Our dear Mr. Gray made a statement.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to either Wren or Cassidy.
“What do you mean?” Cassidy asked.
Wren stomped back. “Gray unleashed a spell at the hospital. What you see is a result of his magic.”
“Yes, the spell is over, but…” Magnus walked toward the building. “I feel something dark… rancid, like what we found at the club site.”
“Are you sure?” Wren asked.
“Yes. It’s inside.” He closed his eyes. “Close. I need to get it.”
Was that a…? Cassidy held her breath, straining to hear.
“I-” Wren started, but Cassidy raised a hand to silence her and focused all her attention on a sound she thought she heard.
Wait…wait. THERE. Cassidy jumped up and bolted for the hospital doors. At her approach, they shushed open and she ran inside. Gray bodies lay on the floor, slumped over the reception desk, and sat upright in the leather and metal chairs. Death’s noisome aroma filled the room. Cassidy let it wash over her as she paused to listen. A low coo, off to her left. She ran. Magnus and Wren pounded after her.
A cough, louder this time. Close. Moving quickly down the hall, she hopped over bodies when she couldn’t walk around them, ears straining against the hospital’s white noise.
She turned left on instinct, passed the vending machines, and slowed her pace.