But I couldn’t do it. My strength was gone, sapped from my body by my futile attempts to speak. The world was sliding back into the dark. I was losing.
Then I felt a surge of power. I couldn’t place where, or how, but I could feel it moving through me, a warmth that overwhelmed the pain and burning heat and pushed them back. The darkness receded with them, my awareness reaching a clarity I couldn’t recall experiencing in who knew how long.
I opened my eyes, squinting against the glare of what looked like a bright, portable flashlight. I could see faint shapes, unmistakably people, standing over me. One of them took a step back, and as they did something long and smooth touched its tip to the ground near my face. I could see a faint grain to it, the light color of wood.
Staff. It was a staff.
The warmth was already fading, the heat and pain returning in force along with the advancing wall of blackness, and this time I knew I couldn’t hold it back. I opened my mouth, speaking even as I closed my eyes, the first word that came to my beleaguered mind slipping free into the air as oblivion rushed in.
“Gandalf?”
* * *
“—coming around—”
“—get the—”
“—Morris—”
“—waking up—”
The words were what came back to me first. Voices, soft and calm, but growing gradually more insistent as they carried on. There was a faint, electrical hum too, interspaced by a beeping sound every few moments. A familiar one I couldn’t quite place.
Touch came to me next, but it was faint, muted. The pain I could recall feeling before everything had faded was distant, like it was behind a wall. I knew it was there, but I couldn’t feel it, though I could feel the coolness of what felt like a bedsheet beneath me.
Painkillers, then. And decent ones. Combined with the scattered voices and the faint, electrical beep, could only mean one thing.
I was in a hospital.
Well, maybe. I couldn’t think of many other places I would wake up in feeling better than I had that wouldn’t be medically related. But in all likelihood, it was a hospital.
Great.
I shifted, turning my head from one side to the other, and as I did a yawn slipped out. The voices around me shifted, and I heard someone telling someone else to “—go get Doctor Morris.”
Definitely a hospital then. The only question was what had landed me there this time. I tried to think back, but my brain wasn’t quite up to it yet. Either the haze of drugs was keeping my mind from finding the right memories, or whatever had brought me to where I was had done more damage than I’d realized.
“Take it easy,” a soft voice said. A hand came to rest on my shoulders, its touch light. “You’re all right.”
I tried to speak, but my throat felt dry. I swallowed, shaking my head slightly and regretting it as pain moved through me.
“Where am I?” It wasn’t the best question I could’ve asked, but it would work well enough for my purposes. “Who are you?” My voice was raspy, dry to my ears.
“You’re in the hospital,” the voice said. I opened my eyes, squinting at the bright overhead lights and blinking as they adjusted. “In Silver Dreams.”
“Right,” I said as I started to piece things together. “Silver Dreams. Yeah.”
Silver Dreams. I’d taken a job there hunting chupacabras for the locals. It was all coming back. Small town, silver mine, the works. I’d been working on catching the chupacabras, but the last thing I could remember was leaving one of my client’s homes. Was it Salas? Yes, that was it. Mrs. Salas. Kindly older woman who gave out food to everyone who came over, and the owner of a few goats.
But past that … everything was in a haze. A haze that terminated in a pain-backed wall of drug-induced stupor.
“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked, shifting so that I could get a better look at her. She was tall—or at least she looked pretty tall from my perspective on the bed—and she had close-cropped hair that looked like it was halfway through the process of being grown out again. She gave me a wide smile.
“Not so hot,” I admitted. “Sore. And definitely achy.” I shifted, trying to push myself up, but the nurse shook her head and lifted the controls for my bed. The mattress beneath me began to hum as it levered me upwards.
“My head definitely hurts, along with my face,” I said, lifting a hand and moving to probe at my lips. The nurse caught my wrist before I could and shook her head.
“I’ll get a mirror in a moment,” she said. “But I don’t want you accidently tugging any of your bandages.”
“What happened?” The more awake I became, the more I could feel of my body. My skin felt burnt, like I’d been out in the sun for too long, but it was shared by an uneasy feeling from my insides I couldn’t quite place. It almost felt like every part of me had been left out to dry before being dunked back into a bucket full of water. My insides weren’t dried up, but they were definitely stiff.
“You were brought in last night,” the nurse said, letting off the bed’s controls. I came to a stop. “You were suffering from severe dehydration and numerous other injuries, including a concussion.”
Dehydration. That explained the wrung out feeling in my innards. “How bad was I?”
“Bad enough that you might not have made it had someone found you a day later,” the nurse said, her lips compressing into a thin line. “Can you remember anything about how it happened?”
“I …” I tried to push past the barrier in my head, but caught only glimpses. A sudden pain, someone shouting … something hitting my face …
“No,” I said, shaking my head and then grimacing as the pain became all too real. “Sorry.”
“Well, give it a minute,” she said, picking a small penlight from her pocket and holding it up to my eyes. “You’ve been through a lot, and with the concussion things might be a little jumbled in there.” She took a step back and picked up the clipboard at the end of my bed, making notes with quick, precise movements of her hand. “Now, aside from sore and achy, how do you feel?”
“Tired,” I said. “Like I’d like to take a nap.”
She nodded. “Well, don’t, unfortunately. You have—”
“A concussion,” I said, returning her nod. “Not the first time. Can’t sleep. Got it. You guys have anything to help keep me awake?”
A long laugh echoed down the hall, loud enough that I glanced at the doorway in surprise. The nurse didn’t react. It had sounded slightly unhinged. Maybe they had a small psych ward.
“The TV works, and we’ve got over a hundred channels,” she said. “Plus, Doctor Morris is going to be here any minute to speak with you about your injuries. Oh, and your friend wanted to come see you as soon as possible.”
“Friend?”
“Yes,” she said, looking up at me. “He was the one who brought you in. A really tall man, quite large, actually, with a staff.”
A staff!
“Said his name was—”
“Hawke Decroux,” I said, smiling. That was good news.
“So he is a friend of yours?” the nurse asked.
“Yes,” I said, giving her a small nod. “He and I go back years. You can trust him.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said. “His identity checked out, but we weren’t quite certain that, well, you know.”
I nodded again. “Hawke’s an honest man, and a good friend of mine. You can trust him.”
She smiled. “That’s what we assumed. In any case—” The laugh echoed through the room again, closer this time. She didn’t react at all. In fact, her speech didn’t even slow.
“—he wanted us to call him as soon as you were awake and let him know that you were all right,” she continued without pause. “He was pretty urgent to talk to you about what had happened.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, nodding. I could remember that I had told him I would meet him when he arrived. If he’d found me, that implied I’d missed at least a day or two. In fact, the la
st thing I could remember at the moment—heading back to my hotel room—had been the night before he’d been expected to show up.
“Did he say how long he’d been looking for me?” I asked. “How long have I been here?”
She smiled. “You’ve been here since last night.”
“Oh, right.” I’d already been told that. Fregging concussion. “Did he specify how long I’d been missing?”
“I think he said that yesterday was his second day in town.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding as I struggled to connect the days together. I couldn’t remember yet what had happened the night before he’d arrived—though I could sense vague glimpses of it coming back to me—but if he’d arrived the day after that, and then found me on the next, and then that had led to today …
“Three days,” I said, nodding. “All right.”
“So, do you want me to call him, or …?”
“Do,” I said. “Or better yet, could I do it?”
She nodded. “Of course. As soon as you’ve met with Doctor Morris, I’ll call you.” She pointed to a phone sitting by the bedside. “Once you’re on, I’ll connect you to your friend.”
“Thanks.”
She smiled. “Don’t mention it. So, do you feel any other aches and pains you think we should know about?”
“I’m thirsty,” I said. “Really thirsty.”
“I’ll bring something up,” she said. “You should be fine to sip water right now, but you’ll want to take it easy. If you feel any nausea …” She left the word hanging in the air.
I gave her another nod. “Call. I’ve got it. Oh, and by the way, you are aware I’m an Unusual, aren’t you?”
She nodded as she rose. “Mr. Decroux informed us of that. We’re aware. I’ll go tell Doctor Morris you’re ready to see him, then, and once he’s done I’ll give your friend a call.”
“Thanks.”
She walked out, leaving me alone in the room for the first time since I’d awaken. I let out a long sigh.
Figures, I thought. Somehow, in some way, I’d almost ended up dead working what basically amounted to an animal control case—and that was Hawke’s area of business, not mine. Which was why I’d called him up in the first place. Embarrassing.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost assume it was time for me to throw in the towel, I thought, letting out a silent chuckle. You’re getting old. I actually did let out a faint laugh at that one.
The long, echoing laugh from earlier rang through the room, and I shut my mouth. There was something about the laugh that completely killed any sense of mirth I had. It was off. Unhinged.
I looked down at myself, checking my arms for signs of injuries, and for the first time realized that I had a tube stuck into my arm. I followed it back up to a bag of saline solution hanging near my bed.
Interesting. I was also sporting a bunch of rope burns on both my arms, and, from the feel of them, on my legs as well. Whatever had happened to me, I’d apparently been restrained. And not kindly.
Unfortunately, I still couldn’t remember the details of what had happened. I was getting faint bits and pieces, flashes of pain and muffled shouting, but trying to think about it made my head hurt even through the painkillers.
I eased off. Better to rest and let myself recover. If I remembered, I remembered. If not … Well, I was sure I’d be able to piece most of it together between my notes and Hawke’s version of events.
The laugh echoed down the hall again, and this time something about it set my teeth on edge. Which wasn’t too surprising to me, honestly. I’d never liked hospitals, probably never would. With my abilities being what they were, even a small hospital like the one I was in now tended to have its … Eccentricities was the best way I could think of to put it. Large hospitals? I took every chance I could to avoid them. Some people hate going to the dentist because they don’t like the sound of a drill and people poking at their teeth, I don’t like going to hospitals because of who I am and what I do. Generally, when someone is dead, my job is to ensure that they stay that way.
Footsteps echoed nearby, and I looked up from my examination of my arms to see a tall, spindly man walking into my room, a tablet computer cupped in one arm. He was thin—almost gaunt, like scarecrow that had been given permission to leave the fields. As he stepped up to the foot of my bed and gave me a warm smile, however, a closer look showed that he wasn’t quite as thin as he appeared to look. It had been his height that had suggested otherwise.
“Hello,” he said in a warm voice. “I’m Doctor Morris. How are you feeling?”
I actually missed the question, which in hindsight probably wasn’t that great for first impressions, but I was preoccupied. Because right on the doctor’s heels, drifting through the air without a care in the world, came a ghost.
I only gaped for a second, the act of which alone told me how out of it I truly was thanks to the drugs they had me on, but I gaped nonetheless. The giggle from the ghost as I locked eyes with it brought a sudden clarity to my mind, and I realized why no one else had been reacting to the odd, drawn-out laughs I’d been hearing earlier.
No one in the hospital but me could hear them.
It wasn’t hard to see why. The ghost I was seeing was barely there, his faded body almost translucent even to my eyes. I hadn’t even felt the temperature shift that normally would have come with the appearance of something like him, and that combined with his almost insubstantial told me that he was barely there at all.
But he was a ghost. And a he. The bearded chin and burly arms gave that away, though as I watched they shifted, almost fading as the ghost let out another short laugh, muttering something so quiet that I couldn’t make it out.
Then his eyes locked with mine, and I saw his jaw drop. There was no mistaking my gaze. I saw him, and he knew it.
“Mr. Rocke?” Dr. Morris asked, but I didn’t look away. I was staring at the non-corporeal entity floating at the entrance to my room, waiting for him to make a move. Was he aggressive? Hostile? Danger—?
Like a shot he was gone, rushing out the door so quickly I was almost tempted to think I’d imagined him. But I knew I hadn’t. My abilities were what they were, even injured and on painkillers. They were as natural to me as breathing.
“Mr. Rocke?”
I gave my head a little shake and turned toward the doctor, giving him a slight smile. “Sorry, I heard you. I was just thinking.”
“Oh?” He didn’t seem concerned by my explanation. “About anything in particular?”
“No,” I said. “Just running over the last few things I remember in my head and trying to figure out what took me from there to here.” It was close enough to the truth; it was what I had been doing before I’d been caught by surprise with the ghost’s appearance. “So, what’s the verdict?” I asked, bringing my thoughts back around to the issue at hand. The ghost could wait—if I hadn’t heard a thing about it in the week and a half I’d been in Silver Dreams already, then chances were I could safely ignore it. For now.
Doctor Morris smiled and went right into a discussion of my many injuries, of which the concussion and the dehydration were the most severe. He seemed particularly impressed that I’d not lost any teeth or suffered any broken or cracked bones, since—in his own words—it looked like I’d been beaten pretty well by someone. Though, and I was quick to note this, most of the injuries had been to my face. Whoever had roughed me up—and I was sure it was deliberate—had gone for my face and more visible injuries, rather than softer and more concealable targets elsewhere.
I wasn’t at all surprised when he told me that he’d reported my injuries to the police, nor when he said that they wanted to come by and see me before I checked out. Someone getting—from the look of it—abducted and then beat up probably was a cause for concern in a place like Silver Dreams. I nodded and told him that was fine. I’d been questioned by cops before, though Morris probably didn’t know that. Answering a few questions wasn’t anything I was unprepa
red to do.
To my surprise, however, Doctor Morris informed me that he’d already contacted the NSAU to report the incident and acquired the necessary paperwork. On the one hand, it meant that my injuries were going to be covered as long as I was “on a job,” which I had been. On the other hand, it did mean paperwork, and lots of it.
I’m not a big fan of paperwork. The doctor dispensed a bit more advice about my condition, most of which I already knew or had a reasonable guess about, before excusing himself to go check on other patients.
“Doctor Morris?” My query caught his attention as he began to walk out of the room, and he turned back to give me a pleasant smile.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a calm, sane look. “You ever get anything Unusual going on around here?”
Morris let out an amused chuckle. “You mean like lycanthropic infections or magic-related injuries? No, we’re a small town, Mr. Rocke. The chupacabra outbreak you’re in town for is the only Unusual event of any interest we’ve ever experienced. In any case, you shouldn’t be thinking about work in your current state.”
“No, no,” I said, giving him a quick nod. “I meant the hospital itself. Stuff like … oh, strange voices … things being misplaced or moved around … odd laughter you can’t explain … Stuff like that.”
“Mr. Rocke, this is a hospital,” he said, shaking his head. “Things being misplaced is simply a part of what we do. As for odd voices or laughter, I can request the nurses to keep it down if you would—”
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head a little too harshly and feeling a slight dizziness come over me. “They haven’t been loud at all. I was just … Never mind.”
“Very well.” To his credit, he didn’t look at me like I was crazy or possibly unhinged. He just gave me a polite smile and a nod and then continued on his way. I wouldn’t minded if he had, either, though it was nice that he hadn’t. I was an Unusual investigator, a “spook.” Being thought off as a little odd didn’t bother me much. After all, there aren’t many who can show up at your grandmother’s wake and carry on a conversation with the dearly departed guest of honor.
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