by CJ Lyons
Because tangled between her wedding band and engagement ring was a strand of gold-red hair. Solid, real, tangible proof.
Grace Marie D'Angelo Moran, former Medical Doctor, recent agoraphobic, current brain tumor patient, apparently had indeed conjured herself a ghost.
CHAPTER 22
Comfort Measures
Eve cracked open the door to Vincent's call room and looked in. She smiled, remembering her own nights spent in similar rooms, glad that period in her life was over. Now if she stayed late at work it was because she wanted to, not because she was at the beck and call of others.
Like most residents, Vincent had left the bathroom light on and the door cracked open, the better to read messages on his pager without the shock of turning on the overhead light. He stirred, the mattress squeaking as he turned in his sleep and began to snore. How adorable. Just like a baby--a baby who was about to have a very pleasant dream.
She slipped into the room, closing the door behind her. Stripping out of her blouse and skirt, she moved over to the bedside table and carefully opened the tiny vial of chloroform. Old fashioned, but suitable for her purposes: guaranteed to both sedate and arouse, the anesthetic had once been used as an aphrodisiac.
Combined with the small dose of rohypnol she had slipped him earlier, he would be easily swayed by any suggestion, physical or otherwise, that she made.
Eve held the surgical mask, the chemical would burn if it touched bare flesh, and carefully placed a few drops on it. The cloyingly sweet scent of ether wafted through the room as she held the mask beneath Vincent's nose. She breathed shallowly but still caught enough of the chemical to give her a delicious tingling that began at her toes and worked up to her groin. Vincent coughed once but then remained still as Eve climbed on top of his body.
She straddled him, placing the mask within reach on the nightstand just in case. Usually one dose was enough, once begun she could allow nature to take its course. Often she could even convince the man that he had seduced her by the time it was all over.
But it was really Eve in control--and that was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.
Vincent was drowning in flowers. He choked down the sweet scent, half arousing from his sleep. There was a weight on him. A woman, he realized as her hands slid up his naked chest.
Naked? The thought nearly pierced the veil of confusion that had engulfed him. He was on call, wasn't he? He never slept nude in the hospital.
Then her lips covered his and he was drowning again but this time the sensation was welcome, drifting in a field of flowers, all responsibilities and worries left far behind. The taste of sweet vanilla on a tongue that twisted with his. The kiss was stirring as were the hands that continued to tantalize his chest, moving down, down.
If this was a dream, it was the best one he'd had in a long time.
The lips left his, proceeding on a taste tour of his neck, his shoulder. "Grace," he whispered.
She froze and for one second he was certain that he'd broken the spell. But then she pulled his hands to her breasts, curling his fingers into her flesh.
Vincent struggled upright to a sitting position. She slipped away, he reached for her, frightened that he had lost her. Her weight returned as she repositioned herself over his naked hips, her body moving against his, sliding, rubbing, arousing.
He buried his mouth over one breast, his fingers kneading the other, delighting in the warmth of her silky smooth skin. Her hands guided his hips as he entered her. Her muscles tightened around him, pulling him in deeper as they moved in synchrony.
His thoughts seemed joined to his body by tenuous cobwebs but he dimly realized that her breasts were much larger, fuller than Grace's, they spilled out of his palms with overabundance. And she was taller, more curved, fuller-figured than Grace's lean boniness.
He started to pull back, to try to look upon the woman before him, but she held him tight against her, her body rocketing him to heights of pleasure he'd never imagined before.
A raucous beeping clamored through his brain, igniting a throbbing headache. The noise meant something important, it was soon joined by another, their high-pitched tones a jarring counterpoint to the groaning of the bed and the guttural moans escaping Vincent's mouth as waves of pleasure rocked him.
Her hand left his flesh for an aching moment followed by the clatter of two pagers banished to the ground, devoured by hobglobins and hoards of dustbunnies hidden beneath the bed.
Her fingers returned, raking at the flesh of his back, sending delicious shockwaves of pain and pleasure through him. He heard Grace's voice coming from a distance and knew it was vital that he listen, attend to her words, but by the time they reached his brain they were consumed by his passion, burnt to meaningless fragments. It was as if he could no longer speak or understand English--the only language he knew was the primordial urge that had overtaken his body and mind.
The bed heaved against the wall as he came, a thundering climax unlike any he'd previously experienced. He collapsed into his partner's arms, but she was still moving, urging him on. Her head rolled forward, her teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder.
Pain shot through him as she bit deep enough to draw blood, her talons tearing at the flesh around his spine. She shuddered as her own climax overcame her. Vincent raised his head, opening his eyes in the dim light. It took a few moments, but finally his vision began to clear.
His eyes met the monochromic grey of Eve Warden's. She smiled at him, gleaming white teeth in a wide mouth.
Vincent blinked hard.
There was a tiny drop of blood sliding along the edge of one perfectly formed incisor. Her tongue ran across her teeth and it vanished.
His head was pounding, keeping time from the insistent beeping echoing beneath the bed. He was on call. What the hell had happened? Fog swirled through his mind, impenetrable and leaving him with a cold chill in the pit of his gut.
A woman's voice called to him, but Eve's lips never moved. Grace?
Then he realized it wasn't Grace's voice but the hospital operator's sounding outside in the hallway. Announcing a Code--a patient in distress. Room 703.
Eve gave him a sideways smile, appearing coy and much younger than her years. "No one's ever done that to me before," she told him, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. "I still can't believe you talked me into coming here. I've never--"
He brought her here? Vincent searched his memory, but it was shrouded. All he could think of was the ecstasy that had blasted through him, leaving ripples that the sight of her naked body, the feel of her sweat as she moved against him, amplified and reverberated. He slumped back, exhausted, devoured, empty, devastated. Ravished.
The best sex he'd ever had and he could barely remember most of it. At least she seemed satisfied as she curled up on top of his chest, her tongue teasing his nipple like a cat licking cream from its whiskers. How had he ever convinced Eve to join him in bed while he was on call?
He was on call. He jolted upright, reaching for his scrubs, trying to pull himself together as the operator's urgent message penetrated his fuzzy and cobweb cloaked brain.
"There's a code," he told Eve, his tongue thick as he struggled to form the words.
She rolled off of him, and he couldn't help watching as she moved with a dancer's grace, sliding her clothes back on.
"Room 703," she said, her voice cutting through the haze as she bent down to retrieve her pager. "That's Katherine Jellicle's room."
As she walked out Vincent groaned in dismay, struggling into his clothes, pulling his shoes on even as he tore out of the room.
He'd fucked up, big time, the words chased after him. All because he'd been thinking with his glands instead of his brain, Kat might die. Might be dead already.
CHAPTER 23
Twist of Fate
Jimmy kissed Grace's forehead and crept from the room. He hated leaving her, hoped she wouldn't awaken, that she might not even know that he was gone, but he needed answers.
&n
bsp; He gathered some discarded clothing from a locker, fumbling with the scrubs and lab coat until fingers remembered the once familiar routine of tying and buttoning. A pair of green clogs, still wrapped in surgical booties speckled with old blood, provided protection for his feet. Now properly disguised and attired, he returned to the helipad.
"Bravo, bravo. Well done, Jimmy." Brother Leo stood on the parapet that guarded the empty space between the Annex roof and the Skyway. He clapped his hands and with a whoosh of what sounded like wings, leapt down to land in front of Jimmy. No easy feat given that the door where Jimmy stood was a good fifteen feet from the parapet.
"I'm proud of you, me boy," he continued in a fake brogue that made Jimmy gag. All the more so because he knew that this man, of all men, could assume the genuine thing any time he desired.
So he meant to mock Jimmy, goad him. The Jesuit seemed incapable of standing still, pacing the roof in long strides. He appeared as an ordinary man, wore faded black jeans, a dark cotton shirt, black leather loafers. Ordinary until you gazed into his eyes, dark pools of black that seemed to have no bottom, that threatened to swallow you whole if you dared stare too long.
"Many before you have begun this journey," Leo said. "But you're one of the few who has actually made it this far." He nodded his head at Jimmy's very solid form. "Unfortunately their track record has been, shall we say, mixed at best. It's overwhelming for most, the temptations of the flesh, the intoxifying scent of life. Sure you're up to it? Hate to see you lose everything--and in doing so, condemn Grace as well."
Jimmy straightened, tried to pin him to one spot with a glare. "I need to know everything. Why I'm here, what I'm to do, what Grace needs. I need answers. Now."
The priest's chuckle rang merrily through the night, echoing from the glass panes of the Skyway, battering at Jimmy from all sides. "My dear boy, you know me better than that. I'm not in the business of giving anyone answers, merely teaching you how to find the right questions to ask."
"I've done what you asked. I kept her here. Now tell me why."
"Your job is only half done. You need to stop her from going into the darkness." Leo stopped his frenetic pacing and spun to stare at the Tower standing beyond the void crossed by the Skyway. "And help her make the right choice--even if it means giving her up."
Jimmy didn't like the sound of that. He'd come too damn far to give Grace up ever again. "I'm human now. At least for a day. Tell me what needs to be done. I'll do it. Leave Grace out of it, she's suffered enough."
Brother Leo was silent for a moment, his attention consumed by the Tower. He shook himself, then turned back to Jimmy. "No can do. There are rules, you know."
"Rules? But can't you talk to Him, them--"
"Who? God the Almighty, Shiva, Buddha, Creator of Heaven and Earth--take your pick, there are many names, an infinite number of faces, and they're all wrong. Nothing is all powerful. There are merely powers. Some strive to maintain balance, some feed off chaos."
"You mean angels and demons. And which are you?"
"For a self-proclaimed agnostic, you sure take these labels seriously. Me? Call me an independent contractor."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means I have a goal, a destiny to fulfill. I'm not content to merely inspire and watch from the sidelines but I've not succumbed to the temptation to join the frenzy either. It means that I'm a lot like you, my boy."
Jimmy's teeth ground together as his fists clenched tight. It took all his will power not to strike out against the man--more than man--before him.
He was getting damned tired of this nonsense. All he knew was that he needed, he wanted, he had to protect Grace. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Hell, he'd already died once and lived to tell the tale. "If you're not a god or even an angel, then what's to stop me from wringing your scrawny neck?"
More laughter. "Nothing, of course. That's the beauty of it all. Free will. Everything hinges on it, darkness and light, order and chaos, the past and the future. But I didn't say that I wasn't a god, or even that there is a God. A scholar such as yourself should know better than to jump to conclusions."
"You're really starting to piss me off. Maybe I'll just take a stroll over there," he nodded to the Skyway and the Tower beyond, "and see what they have to offer. Maybe they'll give me answers, help me save Grace."
"Others before you have made that choice. You know your Milton, don't you?"
Jimmy frowned. "Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven. Are you saying that's the Devil over there, that you're sending Grace up against Lucifer? Like Hell you are, not if I've a breath left in my body to stop you."
Brother Leo swiveled his head, his mane of silver hair shimmering in the dim moonlight, and stared at Jimmy. "I do believe you're serious." He chuckled once more. "In all the millennia I've traveled to, that's the one thing that never changes. You humans, so unpredictable--yet always so dreadfully serious, certain that you're the center of the universe. Of course," he continued, talking to himself, "in this instance you are. My, oh my." He rubbed his hands together as if anticipating some enjoyment. "This time, it just might work."
"I've had enough of your bullshit," Jimmy said, turning on his heel and stalking back to the door.
"Wait, you've missed my point."
Jimmy stopped, looked over his shoulder at the Jesuit. "Which is?"
"That Milton had it wrong. To reign in Hell implies that both there is such a place and that it is ruled by a sense of order. Neither is true. If you cross the Skyway, leave my sphere of influence to enter the darkness, that's exactly what you'll find. Darkness, nothingness, the ultimate void. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, that's the closest thing to the truth of Hell. Chaos, disintegration, you'd be rendered into atoms, your atoms shredded into flotsam of even smaller particles, all cast randomly to all corners of the universe. That's what we're fighting against."
"Nothing? We're fighting nothing?"
"The ultimate force of destruction, the darkness that swallows all light, the force that someday will destroy the universe. Chaos, entropy, anarchy. Call it what you will, it's a fight that began with the dawn of time and that we're doomed to lose."
Brother Leo's face grew clouded, then suddenly brightened as he grinned, revealing gleaming white, perfect teeth. "But not today. And not tomorrow. We're mere foot soldiers, my boy, fighting small skirmishes. Every battle is important in a war that encompasses eternity. And this battle has special significance to me."
Jimmy felt his head begin to pound as he struggled to follow the Jesuit's reasoning. He turned his gaze upon the Tower. Something about the modern edifice of steel and glass felt wrong, as if it were off-center, skewed just enough to make Jimmy's head spin and his stomach roil with nausea. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.
"Why do you believe I sent you back to her, Jimmy?" Brother Leo said.
Jimmy opened his eyes, focused on the Jesuit instead of the Tower swimming in his peripheral vision. "To help her. To keep her from killing herself, losing her soul by committing a mortal sin."
Brother Leo tilted his head and arched an eyebrow. "This isn't catechism. You don't have to tell me what you think I want to hear. To help her is why I told you I sent you. Now tell me why you think I sent you."
Jimmy blew his breath out in frustration. Nothing like a duel of wits with a representative of the Almighty Himself to make a man realize how small he was in the grand scheme of things.
"Because something's coming, something big and bad. So awful that the life of one puny mortal woman doesn't matter in comparison." He didn't bother to hide the bitter impotency he felt.
"And you'd be right--on both counts."
"So you're just using her--and me, is that it? That's what all your fine preaching and proselytizing and philosophizing come down to: if you're human and you've the misfortune to be in a time and place where God--or whatever the hell you call Him--can use you, then you're screwed?" He practically spat the words out. "Fuck you and the whole go
ddamn universe! You can just go bugger yourself!"
Brother Leo's laughter cleaved the night, accompanied by a howl of wind and bolt of lightning. "Joan d'Arc said the same thing to me as I led her to the stake and lit the fire. It sounded a lot nicer in French."
"Bloody hell. What's the use?" Jimmy said, smacking one useless fist into his other palm. What the hell was the good of being human again if he was helpless to save Grace?
"I like you Jimmy, I really do. And Grace, too. Do you remember what I told you and Grace on the day I married you?"
The words sang through Jimmy's mind with crystal clarity but he resisted. "If I'd known who you were then, I would have eloped, taken Grace, and skived off to Tahiti."
"I'm sure you would have. Free will, remember?"
Jimmy paused, staring past Leo into the abyss that the Skyway crossed. If Leo would just shut up for a minute, maybe this buzz of confusion in his brain would stop.
"You sent Grace to Maeve's tomb. You planned for us to meet, to fall in love." He went rigid, took a step towards the priest. "Did you plan what happened next? Did you know what Lukas Redding was going to do to her?"
His hands were reaching for the older man's throat before he could blink twice. Leo put up no resistance, merely arched an eyebrow as if disappointed in Jimmy. Sparks of blue-white energy crackled between the Jesuit's flesh and Jimmy's palms, igniting a blaze of pain that forced Jimmy back.
"I'm the one who tried to stop you from returning home," Leo said, his voice infuriatingly calm. "Remember? Just as I tried for years to dissuade Grace from medicine or practicing here."
Jimmy lowered his hands, opening and closing his fists in frustration.
"Why do you think I led you to Maeve's treasure?" Leo asked. "I gave the two of you a chance to save the world."
Jimmy rubbed his finger along his forehead, trying to quiet the insistent hum setting his teeth on edge. It was as if he'd gotten too close to a high voltage wire. As if Leo were a being of pure energy--yet, he was also solid. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "But you still let us come back here. Even knowing--"