Frost Bite

by S A Magnusson

  “It’s not as hidden in New Orleans. There, the people have long embraced the unusual nature of power, though other places are more conservative.”

  “Why not go to New Orleans if they’re more open to your type of magic?”

  “Because New Orleans has other types of power, Dr. Stone.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but Barden didn’t say anything more, and I turned my attention back to the computer screen, clicking forward as I looked from picture to picture. With each one, it took me a moment to study the collection, but in none of them could I find anything similar to the man encountered at the house.

  I let out a tired sigh. “Wouldn’t it be easier to search for Jean-Pierre?”

  “Do you believe you would recognize him?”

  “Probably, and at least we have a name.”

  “I have others working on that task, Dr. Stone.”

  Of course, he did. Why would I have expected anything less? Kate might not have known what activity Barden employed, but it was clear to me at least part of it was collecting information so he could blackmail others. That was the sort of thing I had some experience with.

  “How do you use all of this information?”

  “Information by itself has value.”

  I looked over at him, and Barden was studying the screen, making me wonder how much of the information stored there he had memorized. He struck me as incredibly bright, and it wouldn’t surprise me to learn he had the ability to remember everything he saw.

  “Value in what way?”

  “Value in the sense that we have struggled with our safety for many years. Part of ensuring our safety was knowing who might come after us.”

  “Is that how you got caught up with Kate?”

  “Dr. Michaels was unexpected. She managed to conceal herself for years, and that’s something I am not accustomed to.”

  “She didn’t want to be a part of the magical world.”

  “And yet, that’s where she belongs.”

  “She also belongs in the emergency room.”

  Barden tore his gaze away from the computer and I could feel it burning on me. It felt like a heavy weight on me, his eyes boring deep into my soul. I turned my attention to him. “Do you believe you are not meant for the ER?” he asked.

  I felt somewhat defensive.

  “Listen, I’m a good doc. I work hard. I care about my patients. All the things that matter when it comes to medicine. At the same time, I know a great doc when I see it. And Kate is a great doc. There’s a difference; it’s natural to her in a way it’s not with me.”

  “Are you afraid you don’t belong in the emergency room or do you fear you don’t belong in the magical world?”

  I watched Barden for a moment before shaking my head. “I have come to terms with who I am when it comes to practicing medicine. I worked hard. Got into a prestigious residency program. Earned my way.”

  “Do you not feel the same way about magic?”

  “It’s not that I don’t feel the same way, it’s just I don’t know whether I want to.” I continued to click on pictures, forwarding one after another and ignored Barden’s gaze lingering on me. There was nothing more for me to say. And yet, I couldn’t deny the satisfaction I felt when I’d summoned magic.

  When I had first been introduced to the magical world, I’d felt as if it was something impossible, something so far beyond anything I could comprehend, and it was impossible for me to grasp it even existed. Slowly, I had come to understand that a side of the world existed I had never known about and that I didn’t have a place in it other than peripherally.

  Maybe that was what troubled me the most. I could have a place in it and I might not have a choice in whether or not I pursued it. This was something I hated. I always wanted to make that choice for myself.

  “What happens if I can’t find this guy?”

  “Perhaps nothing, but we continue to struggle with what the vampires expect of you.”

  “They don’t expect anything from me.”

  “Ah, Dr. Stone, we both know that’s not entirely true. They have something in mind for you, and we may not know what it is yet, but I intend to understand before they get any closer to you.”

  “And if I don’t figure it out?” I glanced over at Barden. “I’m not protected the same way you are. Not only do you lead the Dark Council, but now you sit on the Mage Council. You are most definitely more protected than me. I’m just lucky they didn’t attempt to kill me when they captured me.”

  Barden was silent for a long time, and I watched him, frowning.

  “What is it, Barden?”

  “Nothing other than my desire to find this man, Dr. Stone.”

  “I understand why I’d want to find him, but why is it you feel compelled to find him?” I glanced to the computer; the scrap of paper with the image I’d seen on Jean-Pierre was lying in front of the keyboard. I tried to think of what it was that might motivate Barden in such a way. “You know something I don’t.”

  “All I know is the vampires have decided to target you.”

  “You know something more than that.”

  “No.”

  “Barden…”

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair, turning his attention to the computer screen. “One of the things I have taken particular pride in doing over the years is understanding people’s motives. Mastering that has provided me information I wouldn’t otherwise have been able to obtain. Learning what motivates people has protected my own, if only because I’m able to work on behalf of what someone else might want. Doing that provides not only a service but makes one invaluable.”

  “And what motives are you concerned about now?”

  “The vampires. Donovan Icahrn in particular.”

  “Why?”

  “What if I told you the Icahrn family has never attempted any power-play within Minneapolis?”

  “I would tell you I don’t really know what that means. You said one of the other vampire families tends to lead there.”

  “The Vangalor family. Yes. They have long remained the most prevalent within Minneapolis, though another once tried to overthrow them.” There was something of a seething rage as he said the last words, but Barden continued before I had a chance to find out more. “More than just having one of the other families leading here, it was Donovan Icahrn who called you to their home.”

  “We already knew why he did. They were claiming there was some Mark of the Elder.”

  “Indeed, and unfortunately, I haven’t been able to determine exactly what the Mark of the Elder for the Icahrn family is—or what it means.”

  I thought I was beginning to understand why that troubled Barden. He traded in knowledge and information, working with secrets, so for him to be ignorant about something had to be particularly galling to him. “That’s why you’re concerned?”

  “They believe you have it and believe you are somehow responsible, though were that truly the case, I suspect they would not have freed you. Instead, it was more for show.”

  “They freed me because you had come for me.”

  “I doubt they fear me so much that they would have released you if they’d believed you were responsible for the death of one of the vampire elders.”

  I glanced over at Barden, trying to work through things. Having stared at the computer screen for as long as I had, the pounding in my head was almost too much. The coffee did little to clear it, other than jolt me somewhat awake. “The vampire in the park wasn’t the elder. He was young, anyway, and not what I would’ve expected an elder to be.”

  “One thing I have learned is that the appearance of youth does not necessarily preclude one from being powerful.”

  “Right, but we’re talking about the vampires. Didn’t you tell me they lived a long time—impossibly long?”

  “Some of the heads of vampire families are several hundred years old, though that is the exception rather than the rule.”

  “And even at that age, you don’t thin
k they show any signs of change?”

  “Vampires are not immortal if that’s what you’re asking. They age, but slower than most creatures, at least on the side of the Veil.”

  “The other side of the Veil is different?”

  “As far as we know, it is. The fae can live far longer than anyone on this side of the Veil. It’s what makes them powerful.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they have time. They are able to master their powers far better than anyone on this side.”

  “That can’t be all that makes them powerful.”

  “No. From my limited experience on the other side, I recognize they were powerful simply because of their connection to power.”

  “Not all of them are powerful in that way, are they?”

  “I don’t know. You’d have to ask someone who has more experience with creatures on the other side of the Veil. I’m content dealing with only those powers on this side. It’s the purpose of the Veil, and as long as the Veil remains intact, we don’t have to deal with anything else.”

  “If Jean-Pierre was the elder, what happened to him? He’s not dead, so why would the Icahrn family come after me?”

  “Those are the answers I seek as well.”

  I turned my attention back to the screen, wanting more than ever to find what I could about the man who’d attacked me. He had to have known something about Jean-Pierre, but what was it?

  And if he did know something, there had to be a reason that address had been listed within our record.

  “Would one of the vampire elders live in Minneapolis?” I asked.

  “That is not something I can answer.”

  “Let’s assume they don’t. If there are heads of the family with power within the city, it would make sense the vampire elders wouldn’t necessarily be there.”

  “That would be true, I suspect.”

  “And if that’s the case, then the address he gave wouldn’t be tied to any of the vampire families, but to someone who served him,” I said.

  “That is possible.”

  Which would explain why the man who had been there would have been surprised by my appearance. His leaving might have been to do something else, possibly to warn Jean-Pierre someone was searching for him.

  “I think we need to figure out how Jean-Pierre was injured in the first place,” I said. I looked down at the scrap of paper. “And what this means. That has to be important, doesn’t it?”

  “It would have to be important, but it’s one of the runes for which I haven’t been able to determine the meaning. Many other runes have easily identifiable purposes behind them, but in this case, this is one I haven’t been able to fully determine.”

  “Are you trying to?”

  Barden studied me. “Of course, but runes can be dangerous, and without having someone who understands them, working with them is a tedious and potentially risky process.”

  “Who could you go to?”

  “I suppose were our mutual friend around, we could have her go to the only fae I know who lives on the side of the Veil, but after recent events, that fae is under a very different sort of watch.”

  “What about Kate’s mother?”

  “The Council has moved her.”

  “Why?”

  “In order to question her. There is still a lot the Council feels they can learn from her.”

  “You don’t think the Council would allow us to question her?”

  “Perhaps if Dr. Michaels were available, they might be more inclined to allow us an opportunity to question her, but with her absence, it’s incredibly unlikely they would permit us to do so. They fear what we might learn and prefer to keep that knowledge controlled.”

  “If there’s anything to be learned from her, why not ask? Why not use her so we can make certain we aren’t endangered?”

  Barden only shook his head. “Were it only so simple, Dr. Stone.”

  “How are we supposed to figure anything out, then?”

  He nodded to the computer screen. “The way you have been approaching it so far. You take your time, you search for anything that might provide us with any insight, and then we should be able to figure out who this man was. I will continue to have my people looking.”

  “And if we don’t find him?”

  Barden flashed a bright smile, but it never reached his eyes. “We will find him, Dr. Stone.”

  As I turned back to the computer, I wished I shared his confidence. It wasn’t that I wasn’t willing to put in the time and effort, but more that I was worried about just what was required to find him.

  15

  The ER was busy.

  Nurses raced between rooms, answering beeping monitors or attending to IV pumps, and it didn’t help that the ambulance bay was busy, too, leaving it so we were waiting on our next arrival. It had been a long time since we’d been this busy, and I wondered if the cold and flu season was taking off in full. It seemed a little early for that, but each year had its own quirks, and it was possible this year we would see an early—and bad—flu season.

  As an ambulance pulled into the bay, I lingered there a moment, watching as the EMS opened the back of the rig. An older man inside lay strapped to a cot, blood pouring out of his side. I started forward when I saw one of the second-year residents approach. Dr. Blake was skilled, and Dr. Allen’s advice came back to mind.

  “You take this one, Kara,” I said.

  She nodded. At this time of year, she wasn’t so far removed from an intern level, and there were times we still struggled with getting our residents to be confident with what was coming in the door. I wasn’t sure if this was going to be one of those times or not. I decided to watch, listen, and observe. That was what I was supposed to do, wasn’t it?

  “Elderly man. He was walking and apparently struck. We’re not really clear what hit him.”

  “Somebody attacked an old man?” Kara asked.

  She had short black curly hair and normally had a quick smile, but she frowned deeply at the idea this man had been attacked. One thing my time in the emergency room had done was jaded me to the type of things people would do to other people. It didn’t even take long to become jaded about those sorts of things. The more you saw, the more you realized people generally could be assholes to their fellow man.

  “It was called in. We don’t know who called, but he’s alive. For now.”

  Kara helped them wield the man off the ambulance, and we hurried him through the hallways. I stayed with her, prepared mostly to be an extra set of hands, but there was always the possibility she’d need more than that. I wasn’t as skilled at trauma as some people who worked in the ER, but I had seen my fair share of it.

  As we reached trauma bay three, a couple of nurses joined us, helping to move the old man from the ambulance cot and place him on the ER one. It was firm, without much padding, but allowed us to evaluate him more easily. They had a cervical collar in place, and with the man unable to answer questions, that was for the best. With an injury like this, it was difficult to know whether or not he had hit his head while falling. I’d seen a case during my first year of residency where a similar injury had been overlooked. A woman had slipped, hit her head on the sidewalk, and the resident had obtained a CT scan of the head, but had ignored the neck. Thankfully, the attending, Dr. Locks of all people, had not ignored the neck and had obtained a CT scan of it. The cervical fracture would have caused partial paralysis had we not kept it stable.

  The nurses cut away the man’s clothes, and I stood off to the side, watching the process unfold. Dr. Blake worked at listening to the patient’s heart and then lungs before moving on to the abdomen. From there, she examined the belly.

  “Grab the ultrasound,” I said to Riley.

  Riley nodded, racing out of the room. Technically, my fellowship was an ultrasound one, which meant additional training on how to utilize ultrasound techniques in an emergency room setting. Realistically, it didn’t work like that. While I did get additional training in
ultrasound, it wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have been able to obtain otherwise.

  While Riley was gone, I stood at the edge of the bed, examining the wound. It was difficult to tell what type of weapon had been used on the wound, though the edges were smooth, almost symmetric, and the bleeding mostly contained.

  “What’s your assessment?” I asked Dr. Blake.

  “Heart is regular. Lungs are clear. Abdomen is as you can see. It appears to be a stab wound, though on the right lower quadrant, I think it’s only a bowel injury.”

  “Have you placed a catheter?”

  “What?”

  “I’m just wondering if you placed a catheter yet.”

  “You’ve been here with me the whole time, Dr. Stone.”

  I looked over to one of the nurses, and Barb was watching me. She was short, compact, and far stronger than she appeared. “How about we place a foley catheter?”

  “You got it.”

  As Barb worked, taking the kit, Kara leaned over to me. “Why the catheter?”

  “You’re right it’s most likely an intestinal injury, but in this location, you run the risk of kidney or ureter damage. A catheter might allow you to see whether there is any blood in the urine. Better yet, we can do an ultrasound. Have you had much ultrasound training?”

  “Nothing as formal as what you’re doing.”

  I smiled. “You’ll get it.” I was trying to be as reassuring and accommodating as I could be. As far as I could tell, the patient was stable. His heart rate was a little tachycardic, but not nearly as fast as I would expect were he to have lost a significant amount of blood. His breathing was regular, and his blood pressure hadn’t dropped too low. We’d give them fluids, prepare for the possibility of a transfusion, and call surgery to see if there was anything more we needed to do.

  Riley returned with the ultrasound, and I picked up the probes, flipping on the machine, I quickly ran them across the patient’s belly. With a few sweeps, I was able to see a fluid collection in the retroperitoneal space. It was possible it was only blood, but there was a lot of it.

  “Get surgery here,” I said.

  “Which surgery?” Barb asked.