Marty's Horrible, Terrible, Very Bad Day

by Dakota Cassidy

  He smiled at her grit, putting his arm on the back of the couch and letting his head rest on his hand. Then he wondered something out loud. “Reapers are immortal, right? But I haven’t seen any at the hospitals I’ve worked at in all my lifetimes. That I remember, anyway.”

  She fought a yawn, pressing her fingers to her luscious lips. “As the day is long. We’re usually a hearty bunch as far as I know, but if you’re wondering whether we can be killed, slicing our heads off is the only way.”

  Hudson winced at her and rubbed his neck. “Ouch.”

  Pulling the throw up under her chin, she half-closed her eyes and said, “But it’s only happened once in the history of reapers, and it was, according to urban legend, a total accident.”

  Cocking his head, he gave her a strange look. “How do you accidentally slice off someone’s head?”

  With a gurgle of laughter, Rocky grinned. “A reaper was collecting a soul in like medieval times or something, and he accidentally tripped some kind of a wire trap the guy whose soul he was collecting had set for his enemies. Sliced his head clean off.” She dragged a finger across her throat for effect.

  Hudson whistled, giving Dwayne Johnson a scratch on his rounded belly. “Double ouch.” He paused for a moment while he watched her dark eyelashes flutter over her cheeks. “So, you’ve been reaping for a while?”

  “Centuries,” she offered dully.

  “Ah. So you’re a senior citizen. You look good for your age.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “That I look good for my age?” he teased with a wink. “I try. I work out, I try to eat right. Though with these delicious meals Arch keeps making, I’m pretty sure I’m going to need a diet when I go home.”

  “No,” she said, deadpan. “I meant that you’re a senior citizen, too.”

  He laughed, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she settled in. “Look who suddenly got a sense of humor.”

  She hunkered down under the throw and sighed, her face going blank. “My job doesn’t exactly encourage a lot of laughter. I try to find some where I can.”

  “Yeah,” he said on a sigh, tucking the blanket around her ankles. “Sometimes—I take that back—a lot of times, mine doesn’t either. I get it. Ever considered switching jobs?”

  Turning to her side, she tucked a hand under her cheek. “I didn’t choose the reap, the reap chose me. I was born into it centuries ago—it’s my legacy. I don’t have a choice.”

  Rocky appeared to be engaging him without that disapproving look she’d shot at him since they’d met, so he decided to ask more questions in the hopes she’d open up.

  “So like me, you’ve lived through a lot of eras in history. What’s been your favorite so far?”

  She smiled in dreamy fashion. “Believe it or not, the ’80s. Well, maybe it’s a tie between that and the Victorian era. Oh, those dresses. I loved them—even those stupid corsets and bustles—but the hats were divine. But mostly I’m a Lisa-Lisa and the Cult Jam, Prince kind of girl. I miss the hair the most, though. Who doesn’t want big metal hair?” she asked sleepily.

  “Or to be able to use gag me with a spoon in a sentence?” he joked.

  “So what about you? What’s your favorite era? As a phoenix, you’ve lived through a few, I imagine.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and sucked in his cheeks. “While yes, I’ve lived a bunch of lives, I don’t know because I mostly don’t remember them. I die at five hundred years old, rise from the ashes and begin all over again. I even have to study to become a doctor all over again, but somehow, that’s the profession that always speaks to me.”

  If only people knew the kind of hell taking the MCATS could be. But it was what he loved—it was in his blood.

  Rocky was silent for a moment, as though she had to digest that before she said, “Wow. That’s rough. Is it a surprise when you find out you’re the only living phoenix?”

  “Now, there’s the strange thing about my entire existence. The only reason I know I’m a phoenix is because I can shift. That happens as I reincarnate. You know, wings, beak, squawking, the whole nine. Somehow, that part of me always knows what to do and that I have to be careful around humans in the event of discovery, which is why I chose to go into medicine for the paranormal—because I don’t have to explain why I don’t look a day over thirty-five.”

  “Ya think? I’d have said forty, but whatever,” she teased.

  “And I always come back with this,” he said, pulling the gold necklace he reincarnated with from under his sweater to show her.

  Rocky stared at it for a minute as he ran a finger over the charm, a small cross—one he never failed to have around his neck after rebirth, but never understood why. And the people who knew him after he was reborn didn’t seem to know either.

  She then looked at him for what felt like forever, her blue eyes, once half-closed, now wide open before they softened ever so slightly. “That must be really hard on you, with no family or friends. I mean, my father’s a total hardass, a by-the-reaper-book kind of guy, but I love him. I can count on him…mostly. I don’t know what I’d do if I was reborn every five hundred years and I didn’t have him to come back to.”

  He heard the sympathy in her voice and looked away, staring at the television’s blank screen to avoid getting too deep into his feelings. He didn’t want to scare her off, but encourage her to see he was a decent enough guy.

  “Your dad’s a hardass? You don’t get along?”

  Rocky’s pretty peachy lips thinned. “Next subject. Answer the question.”

  He played dumb. “What was the question?”

  “Is it hard doing life alone without any family?”

  He hadn’t realized just how hard until this lot came into his life. But in the interest of allowing more people into his life because it felt so good, he decided to answer honestly.

  “Sometimes. But I get by. I have a job I love. Patients I love.”

  “And?” she coaxed with a gentle grin.

  “And what?”

  “What else do you have besides your job, Hudson? Pets? Hobbies?”

  He ran his hand over Dwayne Johnson’s back. “No pets, but I love animals. Thought about becoming a vet, but doing that in the human world would raise a lot of questions about my longevity, if you know what I mean. Also, I work a lot. I wouldn’t want to leave a dog for fourteen hours at a time while I scrub in on a heart surgery.”

  Rocky smiled at him. “You favor dogs over cats?”

  “I like ’em all, but I’d really love a dog of my own someday.”

  “So your hobbies…” she encouraged.

  He didn’t have time for many hobbies under the iron rule of Dr. Valentine, but he had a couple he indulged in when he had time off. “I like to read. I play a mean game of golf. Though, I don’t get a lot of time off. Dr. Valentine is a demanding taskmaster.”

  “Are you part of a book club? Golf club? Any club?”

  He furrowed his brow. “Do they have golf clubs?”

  “They have clubs for everything from hangnails to bad hair days. I’m sure they do.”

  “Are you part of any clubs?”

  “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you,” she deflected, closing her eyes again and stretching her toes. “So are you part of any clubs?”

  “No, but hearing about this bad hair day club could possibly sway me into joining one. Who doesn’t want a safe place to air their grief about a bad hair?” he joked, finally getting a chance to really look at her without interruption and see if it jogged his memory.

  She giggled at his answer. “Well, maybe you should. You could…make some…”

  She drifted off quite suddenly then, taking a tiny sip of air before her breathing grew even and she was fast asleep.

  But Hudson smiled. Like really smiled.

  This was the first time she’d actually willingly engaged in conversation with him and even though she was contrary at times, he liked that, too.

/>   Still, he almost physically felt that wall she had up, and he didn’t understand the reason for it.

  But he’d like to break it down.

  He’d really like that.

  Chapter 7

  The loud hiss of a machine woke Rocky from a sound sleep. It almost sounded like a balloon, popping off the top of a tank of helium.

  Hoping she’d been dreaming, she jolted upward, falling off the couch in the sitting room and nearly tripping over Dwayne Johnson, who’d apparently forgotten he was a dog who should bark at strange noises.

  But there is was again. Hiss, hiss, hisssss.

  Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she wanted to kick herself for falling asleep. Why had Hudson let her fall asleep when she’d told him she was the only person who could hear a reaper?

  And for the love of pineapples, what the hell was that damn hissing noise?

  Without thinking, Rocky followed her ears, tiptoeing into Marty’s room where the sound grew, reverberating around the space. She hadn’t been in here, only on the fringes in order to respect the privacy of the ladies, their husbands and, most of all, Marty.

  She didn’t want to appear as though she were gawking or interfering in anyway, so she didn’t know the entire lay of the land.

  The curtains had been drawn over the large floor-to-ceiling windows, and there was nothing but the light of the heart monitor and a small night-light illuminating the room. She could see Marty’s frame, covered in a bulky comforter; what she guessed was a large armoire across the room from the bed; and two oval-shaped pieces of furniture on either side of the bed, which she assumed were nightstands. But they were all just outlines at this point.

  Making her way deeper into the room, Rocky held her breath as she squinted into the dark, and the hissing grew louder—

  And that’s when she saw the hulking figure by the bed.

  A brick wall of an ominous shadow popped up, and the flash of a white tube sent the blood in Rocky’s veins ice cold.

  Marty’s breathing tube had been pulled out—that was the hissing sound!

  Panic rocketed to her belly, making her break out into a cold sweat.

  Whoever this was—and for sure it was no reaper—had pulled Marty’s breathing tube from her throat. Why would anyone…

  And then an explanatory word tore through the layers of sleep and shock—a heinous, ugly word.

  Murder? Someone was trying to kill Marty?

  Without thinking, without even considering the fact that her scythe was in the sitting room or that she had no real physical power, Rocky launched herself across the room and lunged for the shadowy figure.

  “Noooo!” she screamed, aiming for his middle section as her head connected to the solid wall of his torso. But she managed to at least knock him down, making him drop the breathing tube, for all the good that would do.

  As her eyes adjusted further, he scooped her up off the floor, lifting her high over his head, she realized he was covered head to toe in black and wearing a facemask, just before he threw her against the wall.

  He roared his anguish, a roar so fierce, so rattling, it shook the whole room. Just before impact, the chandelier above Marty’s bed rocked and chimed.

  Hitting the wall didn’t just hurt. Rocky was convinced it shattered every bone in her body as she crumbled with a yelp before falling to the floor, knocking the wind out of her.

  That was when she tried to cry out for help, but her ribs hurt so much she couldn’t breathe.

  Mere seconds later, a blinding white light screamed into the room.

  On instinct, Rocky tried to raise a hand to cover her eyes, but the loud screech that followed the light ripped through her ears.

  And then she saw him in all his magnificently winged glory.

  Hudson in phoenix form.

  The wind he created when he flapped his wings was so ferocious, it pinned her against the wall where she’d fallen, the squawk of his cry deafening. In the blink of an eye, he was running toward the shadowy figure, scarlet-and-gold-feathered head down, moving at the speed of light.

  He crashed into the intruder, driving his beak into his stomach, knocking him so hard, Rocky heard him grunt before the glass of the window shattered, sending shards and splinters raining down to the tune of his scream as he fell.

  She fought to scramble to her feet, knowing Marty needed that tube to keep breathing. Panic rushed through her in a wave of fear and pain. The throb racking her body as she hauled herself upward nearly took her breath away, but she managed to get herself to the edge of Marty’s king-size bed and pull herself up, her fingers digging into the side of the mattress.

  Trying to keep her head on straight as she tore her way to the surface of the bed, she realized she didn’t know anything about breathing tubes, but she did know CPR.

  “What in all of the entirety of fuck is going on?” Nina hollered into the room as she stormed in, her hair wild and flying behind her as the wind whooshed in, her eyes blazing and fiery.

  “The window,” Rocky squeaked, fighting the searing fire in her ribs as the heart monitor flatlined with a screech. “He went out the window with Hudson behind him. Help Hudson!” She pointed to the broken glass as the infernal hiss of the damn tube continued.

  Nina didn’t spare a second before she yelled an order to Wanda, “Help Rocky!” and launched herself out the window, too.

  Hands were reaching for her, hands that tried to be gentle but hurt like hell. Yet, she pushed them away as she leaned forward, pinching Marty’s nose and placing her mouth over hers. All she could remember was if the heart had stopped, it was two breaths and thirty compressions.

  Just as she was about to breath into Marty’s mouth, she heard Hudson’s soothing voice, somewhere far off in the muddled distance, and felt a hand on her shoulder. “Rocky. Stop. It’s okay. I’ve got this now.”

  Someone else lifted her off the bed, away from Marty. Someone big and soft, who tucked her into their arms and carried her out of the bedroom and down a long hallway.

  Her head pounded so hard, her ribs searing with white-hot pain as she was placed on a surface that felt like a cloud. There were orders barked and frantic footsteps sounded right before she passed out.

  “Kiddo? Open your eyes.”

  “Hmmm,” she groaned. It was comfortable where she was. Quiet. Why would she open her eyes? It was the most sleep she’d had in days.

  A knuckle trailed its way down along her cheek with a gentle pass. “Reeeeaper, Aunty Nina says it’s time to get up. No more falling down on the fucking job, lazy ass.”

  She felt a nudge to her leg then the bed sank beside her. “Caaarl sayyy soo…oo, too.”

  Rocky smiled. Sweet Carl. He was gentle and kind and even if his body parts fell off all the time, he’d brought her a broccoli bouquet. According to Nina, they were the quintessential gift from Carl.

  As she fought her way through the haze of unconsciousness, the earlier events came rushing back to her, sending her into a panic.

  “Marty?” she croaked, her fingers clenching the sheets to try to pull herself up.

  But Nina placed a flat palm on her shoulder and lightly squeezed. “She’s fine. Birdman fixed her right up. Tube’s back in and she’s breathing. You, on the other hand, are a fucked-up mess. But nice stab at kicking a guy’s ass. I’m impressed you’re not more fucked up.”

  The other side of the bed sank beside her, and she heard, “Birdman here. Can you open your eyes for me, Rocky?”

  Hearing Hudson’s voice made her eyes pop wide open, and then the rush of his scent, his sound, flooded her senses.

  She was in a room painted in a navy blue with white accents on a bed made of clouds, and sheets so soft, they felt like newborn baby skin.

  Rocky stared up at him, catching Carl’s worried gaze from the corner of her eye. She squeezed his hand and shot him a weak smile. “I’m fine, Carl. Promise.”

  Hudson put two fingers on her temples and pulled her eyelids up, shining a light into them and making
her cringe. “Looks good. Now, tell me where it hurts.”

  “Maybe I should tell you where it doesn’t hurt. I think the nail of my left pinkie qualifies.”

  When he let her eyelids go with a bark of laughter, she realized he was naked from the waist up. Her eyes flew to his chest, and then to his face wreathed in a smile. “The shift. I always lose my damn shirt. I can’t tell you how often I have to buy new work shirts,” he explained.

  If only his chest weren’t so tan, so rippled, with a sprinkling of dark hair between his pecs, maybe she could focus on something else, like the dull ache in her ribs and the throb of her eyeball. But it was damn hard with the kind of confidence he exuded.

  She sure as hell wouldn’t sit around with no shirt on in front of a bunch of people she barely knew.

  “You have a real shiner there, but your ribs feel okay. How would you feel about letting me take you to the hospital for some X-rays, just to be sure?” he asked, leaning over her to reposition her pillows, allowing his all-male scent to linger in her nose.

  Rocky shook her head and attempted to sit up. “No hospital. If I never go back there again, it’ll be too soon. Not a fan. Besides, I really feel okay. Just bruised and a little battered.”

  Hudson gave her his doctor-ly look. “I thought you might say that…and it’s a deal, but if you have any trouble at all breathing, or you feel dizzy, lightheaded, you’d better speak up, or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and taking you there myself.”

  She shivered, but nodded her agreement. “So, let’s talk about what just happened. First, you let me fall asleep! Why would you do that?”