by R. R. Virdi
Shadows, ghosts, muck and heart attacks. This was a serious supernatural mess. I needed help. Gnosis was out on account of being a diminutive dickwheel. But I had other options.
“I hope you’re in a talkative mood, Church,” I said to no one in particular.
I walked past the rec room. Something caught my eye when I entered the receptionist’s office. A young nurse had her eyes trained on the screen before her, paying no mind to me. Mid-thirties, plain-faced with a hint of freckles and a brunette ponytail.
I cleared my throat pointedly. “Who’s that?” I pointed to a small frame on the desk.
The nurse looked at me, then to where I was pointing.
“Kat.”
The photo showed a much younger, leaner Kat. Her face didn’t have the generous mass it did today. It was shallower, gaunt and weary. What was more surprising was what she was wearing. She wasn’t garbed in nurse’s attire. She was dressed like a patient.
The nurse must’ve noticed my puzzled expression. “Katherine was a patient here for the longest time. Her son died as an infant. She took it hard, withdrew and slowly got worse.” Her features sank as she paused for a moment. “Kat was sent here for treatment. She was rough for a lot of years, but slowly, she got better. She eventually became one of the nurses. She’s Doctor Cartwright’s greatest success story. Patient to nurse! Can you believe that?” She smiled as she looked at Kat’s photo.
“So why does she keep that photo here?”
The nurse shrugged. “Maybe it reminds of what this place can do? Or maybe what she lost?”
My gaze drifted back to the photo. Two sets of initials were written across it in marker.
“What’s K.R stand for?”
“Katherine Robinson.”
“And G.R. is…?”
“Her son’s name, I guess. She doesn’t talk about it.”
I nodded but let the conversation drop. Kat had been a patient here once. I wondered if she knew anything.
Filing away everything I learned about Kat, I headed toward the chapel. The walk wasn’t long, but shadow chasing and checker playing had carved out another slice of my time.
Forty hours left.
Still, the chapel was directly ahead, and with any luck, Church would be there. As far as I could tell, that was his job. Apart from annoying and belittling me that is. But if I showed up at a church, Church was supposed to be there.
I reached the doors and pushed my way through. Stepping onto the mossy carpet, I scanned for Church. Dim evening light shone through stained glass. Church, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Sighing, I walked forward and plopped onto a pew, which would undoubtedly make me lose touch with my butt after a while. Squirming in discomfort, I craned my head. Still no sign of him.
“Uh, Church? You here?” No response. My lips twitched in annoyance. Church was supposed to be the “go to guy” on my cases. He wasn’t really living up to that part since I couldn’t contact the jerk.
“Hey, Goldilocks!”
Nothing.
I let the weariness I had been holding back wash over me. My posture collapsed and I slumped further into the pew.
“Please don’t refer to me as Goldilocks.”
It felt like I had fallen into a pool of liquid nitrogen. I rocketed out of the pew and whirled around. “Holy shit!”
Church stood there, calm and collected. He had the makings of a small frown on his face. “Vincent,” he began, “I’m quite certain one is not supposed to swear in church.”
He pulled a ninja move on me, freaked me the hell out, and was admonishing me for cursing? “Yeah, well…fuck,” I replied.
Church sighed and walked around the pew. He sat beside me and avoided my stare. Instead, he chose to rest his chin atop clasped hands. His gaze was held by something nonexistent at the head of the chapel. “What can I do for you, Vincent?”
“Well I’d like to ask you for some answers, but I’m pretty sure you can’t give them to me, right?”
Church smirked but otherwise remained silent.
Shrugging off the day’s weight with a roll of my shoulders helped release some of the tension. “I guess since you can’t answer my questions flat out, I’d like a talk.”
“That I can do, Vincent.”
I was hoping that would be enough. A chat with Church, while annoying, always seemed to point me in the right direction. I didn’t know if it was luck, brilliant manipulation on Church’s part, or something else entirely. Whenever I finished a conversation with him, I always seemed to know what to do next.
“Gnosis was a bust.” I let the words hang in the air.
Church didn’t reply. His gaze was still fixed on that imaginary spot, but there was something in his face which let me know what he was thinking.
“Ohhhhh, you knew, didn’t you?”
“Gnosis is a businessman,” he said. “It was expected. He was indebted to you the last time. It seems it’s the other way around now. He had no reason to help you. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an investment.”
I don’t know how far I’d whittled my borrowed teeth down, but it must’ve been a good deal as I ground away. I didn’t know who was a bigger ass—Gnosis for turning me down, or Church for knowing it would happen.
“I didn’t know he was going to make me owe him one!”
Church arched a golden eyebrow and stared.
“Okay, yes, he’s a slippery douche weasel. I knew that.”
He blinked. “Vincent, I don’t think I’ve ever met a person with such an affinity for creative profanity.”
“I know. I’m damn near artistic with it. My foul wordage needs an exhibit at the Louvre.”
He sighed. I took the hint.
“’Kay, back to Gnosis. He was willing to deal, but I would’ve had to owe him another favor.”
Church listened in silence.
“I mean, it’s worth it in a way. The knowledge he could’ve offered might help me save some lives but…”
“What if Gnosis compels you to do something that could potentially put people in harm’s way in the future?” Church reasoned.
I nodded.
“It’s a possibility.”
“Did you know Gnosis would try and make me owe him one?” I watched his reaction carefully.
He didn’t respond but his lips twitched. He had known.
“I thought you were supposed to have my back? How could you let me walk into that? Hell, you suggested it in a way.”
“Vincent”—his tone was still gentle—“I didn’t let you do anything. You chose to. There is a reason free will exists. You know that, don’t you? You were and are responsible for your choices and the outcomes—not I. However, did you ever stop to wonder if becoming indebted to him might be a good thing?”
I snorted. “How’s that?”
“Because, Vincent, that was his reason for turning you down.”
I rolled a hand, motioning for him to continue.
“Now you are forced to find another way to procure the information you seek. Perhaps Gnosis wouldn’t have been the best option. You should learn to have a little more faith in the way things play out.”
I snorted again. Faith and I aren’t the best of buddies. “So now I’m stuck with less than stellar options. I mean there are tons of information dealers I can contact, but I would’ve preferred Gnosis. He’s a businessman—practical and trustworthy…ish.”
“How did dealing with him the last time end up for you again, Vincent?” His eyes gleamed behind the lenses of his glasses.
My fist was shaking. I reached over with my other hand and grabbed it tight. Church took note of my rather melodramatic struggle. I wanted to punch him oh-so-badly.
Church ignored my threatening hand motions. “Gnosis wasn’t the only one who owed you for a deed. If you are afraid of incurring more debt…” Church trailed off. I knew whom he was speaking of.
“Oh…” There wasn’t a trace of enthusiasm in my voice, “Her.” Most people would
’ve been excited there was another source of information they could access. Not me.
“You don’t seem pleased.”
“Yeah well, things didn’t end all too well between us. I don’t know if she’ll help me or kill me.” I told him.
“It was your fault, Vincent—”
“The hell it was!”
“She does owe you for aiding her in the first place.”
“That just means she’ll have to work harder to repay her debt and kill me. She’s an opportunistic bitch.”
Church fought hard not to smile. I was right and he knew it.
Grunting, I pushed off from the pew. “Thanks for the talk, Church. Guess I’ll go play with fire now.”
“Vincent,” he called.
“Hmm?”
“Didn’t you promise to meet up with Miss Ortiz…more than an hour ago?”
Oh…man.
Ortiz was going to be pissed.
Chapter Nine
Keeping a woman waiting is never a good idea. It just isn’t. I was not at all eager to enter Charles’ room.
“Look who showed up, the man without a clue…or a watch.” Her face slipped into a tight mask.
My hands leapt into a gesture of placation. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
Ortiz glared at me. I could hear the seconds ticking in my head. She relented after a few moments and breathed, releasing her frustrations. “So, you find anything?”
“A bit. You?”
Her lips twitched in annoyance. “Not what I was looking for.”
I arched a single eyebrow, silently asking the question.
White teeth flashed as she chewed on her lips. “The young woman from earlier”—she paused—“I checked her out. It’s not right.”
“What isn’t?”
“We saw how she died.”
I nodded in agreement.
“There was no sign of that—no black gunk, no marks, nothing.”
“Nothing?” I found that hard to believe. I was there. We both were. We saw a helluva lot more than nothing. But Gus had told me the deaths were made to look like heart attacks. I had no idea how something could pull that off, and more importantly, what that something was.
“If you remove what we saw, it looks like a heart attack.” Ortiz frowned.
The more information we gleaned, the more obscure things seemed to get. It was becoming apparent that I was going to have to get in touch with the paranormal contact Church had hinted at.
Those meetings always went well….
“We both know it wasn’t a heart attack,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yeah.” My voice came out rough enough to sand stone.
Ortiz gestured at me with a little nod. “Your turn—share.”
So I did. I told her about the odd movements I’d seen. Chasing shadows and coming up empty. I conveniently forgot to mention my run-in with young Lizzie. Ortiz had enough on her plate with this case. I didn’t need to overload her with the existence of ghosts or the young girl who could see them. Not to mention I didn’t want to drag a kid into this. Last time someone got involved in my world, she died. Only due to a small miracle did she come back from the experience. And that journey led her to a mental hospital.
I was not going to send a child into what I had put Ortiz through. No way in hell.
“A shadow?” said Ortiz.
“Shadows. Plural.” I stressed the second word.
Her body shook a bit as she suppressed a shiver. I couldn’t blame her. I had effectively told her that an unknown quantity of supernatural creatures were moving throughout the facility posing as shadows.
That’s bound to send a tingle down anybody’s spine. My hand fell on her shoulder and I gave her a reassuring squeeze.
A mix of emotions passed over her face but she reined them in. Her face hardened, then settled. “So these shadows...think they’re what’s killing the patients?”
Tough question. It was possible, but I hadn’t seen a single shadow do anything aggressive. The only interaction I’d had was it making me feel like a cat chasing a laser pointer. That and dicking around with my field of vision when they darted around.
I answered Ortiz the best I could. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
A tingle. I shot a glance down to my forearm. I had lost another hour.
Thirty-nine left.
Ortiz caught my glance, followed it and gave me a look.
“Fast,” I added. “I’m going to find out fast.”
“You got an idea?”
I waggled a hand in a so-so gesture. I did have an idea. I didn’t think it was a great one—or safe. A notion I shared with Ortiz. “Yeah, I do, but it’s dangerous.”
“So what is it?”
“Going to have a meeting of sorts.” I paused before adding, “With a contact.”
“Let’s go.” She took a few steps toward the door.
“Alone.” The single word carried a lot of weight. It wasn’t the right thing to say.
“What?” she snapped like a whip crack. I flinched.
Something about speaking the truth even if your voice shakes entered my mind. “I said...I’m going alone.” Ortiz’s temper could be a scary thing, and that’s coming from someone who ganks monsters.
Balling her fists, she placed them on her hips. It was a pose women took up when giving men a chance to change their mind. Most men would’ve taken the opportunity. I’m not most men, nor too bright, but I had my reasons.
I made my voice as flat and hard as possible. “You’re not coming.”
“Like hell I’m not!”
“Do you trust me?”
“The last time I trusted one of you tattoo guys things turned out bad.”
Ouch. She was right. I’d taken her through hell, which was exactly what I was trying to spare her from this time. I gave voice to that concern. “This is going to be just as bad. It’ll be dangerous.”
“I’m not a china doll,” she growled.
No, she wasn’t. I had fought right beside her. She was made of steel and fire. That still didn’t mean I wanted her to go along with me. Ortiz’s trust may have been shaken, but her moral senses weren’t. I appealed to those.
I looked her in the eyes. “Ortiz, you might not trust me—fine. I can live with that. Look me in the eyes and tell me if I’m lying when I say that I’m trying to help people here.”
Her eyes didn’t waver. She looked me straight on and I could see her struggle. Ortiz knew I was telling the truth.
“Believe me when I tell you that I should do this alone. That it’s for the best.” A moment passed before I added the magical word, “Please.”
That did it. Ortiz’s posture softened and I could see her work through several emotions, mostly frustration. Finally, she resigned. “Fine, but I don’t like being left out on this.”
“I know. I’m not leaving you out altogether—just on this.” I gave her a weak smile. “Maybe you can find out something I missed during my search.”
“You want me to take a crack at questioning some of the patients?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “We need leads. Just be careful if you see those shadow things, ‘kay?”
Her head turned to the window. The honeyed, orange glow of evening poured over her, doing beautiful things to her skin. “It’s getting dark,” she said in a hushed tone.
“And with the dark comes dark things. Muwhahaha!” The ominous laugh echoed in the small room.
Ortiz shuddered, and I instantly regretted the joke, especially when her eyes flashed. The look she shot me could’ve been weaponized. “Not funny!”
“You’re right,” I agreed, throwing up my hands in a gesture of defeat. “But seriously, I don’t know how these things will act during the night. Be careful.”
“You too.” It wasn’t a suggestion. There was an undercurrent of threat in that tone. If I didn’t come back in one piece, she’d kick my ass. Knowing Ortiz, she’d make good on the threat.
My jaw tightened and I gave her a nod.
She slipped past me, and, as she made it to the door, turned her head back. “Don’t keep me waiting this time.” She gave me a wolfish grin. “Or else.”
I swallowed as she left the room.
I was starting to wonder who was more frightening—Ortiz or the unknown monsters. I figured it would’ve been rude to deny either first place, so I called it a tie as I fell to the mattress. Without looking, I sent an arm snaking under the pillows to fetch one of my journals.
My forefinger blurred as page after page flicked by. All manner of supernatural information filled my vision. I ceased my frenzied finger flippin’ when I found a certain image. Intricate, old, dangerous knowledge. And that was just the picture.
I didn’t know how long Ortiz planned to take, but I had to go slow. Common sense dictated that I bring my journal along. It’d certainly make things easier. My job’s never been about easy though. Bringing my journal could be a recipe for disaster. I could lose it, which would be bad. Worse, it could fall into the wrong hands. My heart lurched at the thought of that. The amount of information contained in my journal could lead to a whole lot of trouble for someone unaware of the paranormal. More terrifying, if they were perfectly aware. Then I’d be handing them a contact list and a hunting guide. All the more reason my journal had to remain behind.
I memorized the complexity of the image before me—every wayward line, symbol, and spacing. I had no idea what would happen if I got this wrong. That was a damn good reason to get it right.
Time passed. My eyes felt like they were being compressed and my temples throbbed.
The journal thwapped closed. I shut my eyes and took a ten count of steadying breaths. It was a struggle to lift my lids. Someone had sewn a shot of lead into them. Church may have given me a heck load of time on this case, but I was falling apart nonetheless.
The great thing about being me is the restorative ability I possess. So long as I don’t die outright, I’ll heal from nearly everything. Too bad every part of my brain was falling to pieces at the moment. If I didn’t deal with this, more people were going to die. Maybe Ortiz; maybe Lizzie—a child.
That settled it.
My hand pulled at the thin skin beneath my eyes as I rubbed my face. It may have been spring, but the evening light was straight out of autumn’s handbook. I slid my journal back to its spot beneath the pillows and rose. It was getting darker and there was something that needed doing.