“Bonjour,” Penny said as she entered the last available space in the kitchen. Penny—Penelope—Sutter was Artemis’ best friend and her total opposite. Sharp, strong, cutting eyes, and perfect posture. Most men found her attractive, and Sean had hit on her a couple of times before he’d realized she was immune to his charm and good looks. She was unendingly ambitious, and if it wasn’t for her warm heart toward her friends, Thomas would never have understood how the two women had become close in high school. Now Penny worked for the UN as an English-to-French translator and had mastered a handful of other languages.
She gave Artemis, Thomas, and Sean quick pecks on the cheek. It was an embarrassing greeting, but one they’d long since become accustomed to. She’d greeted her friends this way ever since she’d learned about the custom in a high school French class.
“I brought some wine. Oh, and Nelson’s right behind me,” Penny said as she stopped at the table. A soft chink told Thomas she’d picked up Sean’s bottle of wine. “What is this?”
Sean joined Penny at the table. “It’s obviously wine. Last time you nagged me for not contributing, so, voila! You understand French, right?”
Thomas twisted to watch them, this time being more careful to keep stirring and not drip. Sean yanked his bottle back.
Penny arched an eyebrow. “We’re using mine.”
“What?” Sean whined, placing his bottle on the table.
“I’m with Penny on this one,” said Nelson, walking through the door.
Thomas smiled at Nelson and refocused on the sauce. He’d met Nelson Garcia in med school, and they’d become fast friends. Nelson was completing his own residency program at a different hospital and specialized in internal medicine. Now he was chief resident there, a fact he liked to tease Thomas about occasionally. According to Nelson, he’d secured the promotion because the other attending physicians thought he was suave and handsome. It was a phrase he tossed around frequently enough that no one took it seriously, even if it was true.
“You want Penny’s wine?” Sean complained. “Why?”
“Her taste is better than yours,” Nelson said. “Hey, Artemis, I brought some cherry tomatoes for the salad. I got them cheap, though, because—”
“You’re suave and handsome?” Sean guessed wryly, making the others chuckle.
Nelson grinned. “Glad to see we’re on the same page.”
“Thanks, Nelson.” Artemis bounced out of the kitchen, away from Thomas’ side, and took Nelson’s contribution. “I’m almost done. You can all go sit down. It’ll just be a few minutes. Thomas, go ahead and take the pan off the burner.”
Thomas, Sean, Penny, and Nelson chatted as they took their seats around the room. Like Thomas, the other three had specific spots they sat in every time. Sean and Nelson both sat in vibrant banana chairs while Penny claimed a bit of floor and leaned against a dresser Artemis had made back in high school shop class.
Minutes later, Artemis dished everyone a plate and explained the natural benefits of all the herbs she’d used to spice the food. Penny got up to pour her wine, Sean copying her to prove his was better.
Thomas drank a glass of each to support both his friends. Nelson was right—Penny’s taste was better.
After dinner, Artemis brought out cake and tea.
“You aren’t supposed to have sugar with this kind of tea because it deludes the tea’s connection with your chakras, but I know you guys don’t care about that stuff, so I suppose I can put a lump or two in,” Artemis said as she passed out cups of tea.
Penny took her cup gratefully before standing and serving herself a slice of the cake. “And is there any particular reason we need to be watching out for our chakras?”
Artemis sipped her tea in the center of the room. “It’s always a good idea to keep them clear, but you should be taking special care right now so you’re aware of your surroundings. Those attacks keep happening, and it’s a little scary, don’t you think? I read about them online again.”
“Oh, honey,” Penny said, resting a hand on Artemis’ shoulder. “I don’t think anything will happen around here. But if it did, locking your door will do a whole lot more than tea.”
“But if I lock my door, you guys would never be able to get in.”
“Penny’s right, Art,” Sean said, swallowing his last mouthful of cake. “You should be more careful. If you’re that worried, just make keys for us.”
“You don’t need to make us keys.” Penny glared at Sean as he wiped crumbs from his face. “You’re usually home anyway. We can start knocking.”
“Thomas already does,” Artemis replied.
Penny, Sean, and Nelson stared at Thomas.
“You knock?” Sean asked.
“Well, yeah.” Thomas shifted and rebalanced his plate. He was the only one to ever arrive early. “But just once, then I walk right in.”
“Oh,” Sean said. “That’s not the same thing. But seriously, I don’t think you have anything to worry about in this part of town. It’s a nice, older neighborhood. The little grannies are always looking out for you, right? They always tell me how you’re doing if I walk past them.”
“Just don’t go wandering around by yourself at night,” Nelson added.
Thomas poked at his half-finished lemon cake, not sure if he wanted to eat it anymore. Sean was being blasé about the increasing attacks, the same way he treated any other warning Thomas gave about safety or being cautious. He hadn’t planned on telling his friends about the OR patient today, but now the opportunity presented itself. However, he didn’t want to seem paranoid. After all, they’d heard him talk about injuries he’d seen from work before.
Thomas wasn’t the only one who’d noticed he’d grown more twitchy with every passing day he spent at Stoker Memorial Hospital. Sean teased that Thomas was becoming more of a zombie every time he went to work; he laughed less, joked less. He wasn’t sure if they’d take him seriously or chalk his experience in the operating room up to paranoia. But if one of them got hurt because he stayed silent, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
He cleared his throat, and his friends paused.
“Uh, actually, it’s probably a good idea for everyone to be careful. I patched up a girl who’d been attacked unusually this afternoon. I know I’ve mentioned stuff before, but this was the first time I actually saw one of the victims. It was brutal.”
Nelson and Penny exchanged looks. Artemis paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth, and Sean’s mouth fell open.
“You’re not serious.” Sean leaned forward in his banana chair. “Was it really bad or are you a wuss?”
“Don’t be a jerk, Sean,” Penny snapped.
Sean’s skin colored a little, and he leaned back into his banana chair.
Thomas glared at his best friend. Wusses dropped out of school way before completing their medical degrees, internships, and residency programs. In the near decade Thomas had been studying to be a surgeon and actually practicing, he’d seen about everything. But this girl, her injuries weren’t normal. The bite patterns shouldn’t have existed, but he didn’t think anything he could say would change Sean’s mind about that.
“It’s more violent than your usual assault or car wreck. When this girl was brought in—she looked so broken. Surgery took far longer than it should and she’s still in terrible condition. The attacker even bit her. It was horrific. I don’t want the next person I stitch up to be one of you.”
Artemis leaned forward on the edge of her bed, her feet dangling a few inches from Thomas’ beanbag chair. She watched him, unblinking. “Are you feeling okay, Tom? You’re pretty shaken.”
Thomas clenched his jaw. “Yeah. I’m fine.” His friends didn’t look convinced, so he cleared his throat. “Seriously, though, I’m great. I was just a bit taken aback. Let’s all take note, be more careful, and enjoy the rest of tonight.”
Penny, Nelson, and Artemis exchanged looks again while Sean sulked. Thomas had made it clear he didn’t want to talk ab
out it anymore, so they let the matter drop.
They spent the rest of the night pretending things were normal and beating each other at video games. After a few rounds of a new party game, Sean had warmed back up and was joking around again.
Toward midnight, Nelson glanced at his phone and whistled.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” he said, getting to his feet and stretching, “but I have work tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, same here.” Penny stood up, too, and everyone followed suit. They bade each other goodbye and left. Thomas and Nelson walked with Penny until they reached the subway station she needed. She lived the furthest away, whereas Thomas lived only a few blocks from Artemis’ apartment. After Penny’s kisses goodbye, Thomas and Nelson picked up their pace, still walking in the same direction, and compared stories from their different residency programs.
“There’s been rumors at my program, too,” Nelson said, his voice breaking the silence between footsteps. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Heat rose in Thomas’ cheeks. He shouldn’t have said anything. “I told you I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Nelson pressed, stopping on the sidewalk.
Thomas stopped, turning to face Nelson. He kept his voice steady. “Yes.”
They resumed walking, and Thomas split off a block later to get to his own apartment.
Once he was alone, he felt agitated. Dinner at Artemis’ hadn’t help him relax like he’d hoped. An icy breeze whipped through the cold air and through the gaps in his clothes. He picked up his pace and shoved his hands in his coat pockets as he passed a school about a half-mile away from his apartment. A narrow street ran between the chain link fence surrounding the school and a tall wall of buildings to the left. Thomas turned down the road, sidestepping around an overflowing dumpster smelling like feces. The road was dimly lit by a building on the left, and the building seemed to cut the breeze. Thomas pulled his hands from his pocket but kept his faster pace.
A faint sound of metal clanging echoed behind Thomas when he was about 100 feet down the road. Thomas froze, holding his breath and refusing to blink. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound drowning out any possible other faint noises. Nothing moved. Had he imagined the metal clanging?
He glanced over his shoulder, but with the street poorly lit, he couldn’t make out much. He slipped his phone from his pocket and turned on its flashlight. The short, narrow beam didn’t illuminate much more. Hopefully the clanging had been a cat.
Thomas resumed walking home, keeping the phone flashlight on and in his hand. The chain link fence clanged again, and Thomas spun around. Nothing. Agitated, he walked faster. His paranoia grew with each step until he was running. Let Sean tease him for being a coward until the day he died. As long as that day was somewhere far in the future instead of tonight.
The chain link fence jingled a third time, and Thomas slipped on black ice. He fell backward, but the sensation of panicked weightlessness was short-lived as something slammed him from behind as he fell. He pitched forward and crashed hard into the concrete, his phone spinning from his tight grip. Pain shot through his hands and face. His chest burned, his lungs emptied of air and his ribs bruised.
He gasped for air, trying to shout for help at the same time, but the words never came. Strong arms flipped him onto his back, and a cold hand tore open his coat and grasped his shoulder. Steel fingers dug through his skin. Thomas yelped, but couldn’t pull away.
Pure instinct took over as Thomas flailed. He threw an elbow into a black figure and made contact with something—hopefully the attacker’s face. Rather than being released, the attacker dug his fingers in Thomas’ shoulder deeper. A cry of pain tore through Thomas, and he was certain his clavicle would fracture under the pressure.
The attacker’s other hand grabbed the side of Thomas’ head and slammed it hard against the concrete. Multi-colored sparks of agony exploded before Thomas’ eyes. Inky blackness obscured the edge of his vision, and his heart raced. The med student in him knew he was going to pass out. He tried to shout for help, but the rest of his body wouldn’t follow his pain-clouded commands and fading consciousness.
A jolt of pain from a set of sharp, fine objects, dug into his neck.
No.
Thomas’ eyes snapped open as he was overcome with a surge of adrenaline that moved through him like a tidal wave. His head throbbed and echoed with frustrated sucking noises by his right ear. Something warm pressed over the fresh wound. Thomas twisted in his assailant’s grasp, throwing out his elbow once more. The attacker emitted a low growl as the blow smashed his face away from his victim.
Spurred on by adrenaline, Thomas tried to leap to his feet, but one foot landed on ice and he fell on his hands and knees. He blinked, his vision swirling, and tried again.
His ears rang and his head spun as he stood. His legs shook, but he remained standing. Only one thought made sense.
Run.
He hobbled toward the end of the narrow street. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed a shadowy figure hunched over with his face in his hands. Thomas’ elbow must have smashed his assailant’s nose. The figure shifted, and Thomas hobbled faster.
With every step, his gait improved until he sprinted down the street, sticking as close to the dim lights as possible. As he grew stronger, he knew his attacker was recovering, too. Thomas pushed harder, but for the second time, he was struck from behind. He flew forward, this time crashing into a full dumpster, a bag toppling from the open top and landing next to him. The attacker pinned Thomas to the bin, and Thomas pushed back on the attacker’s arms and hands. He grunted, straining against unnatural strength. Turning, Thomas twisted the attacker enough to unbalance him. The attacker fell forward, guided by Thomas, and smashed into the dumpster. Another bag fell, glass bottles shattering and rolling around their legs. Thomas lashed out with his fist, but the assailant caught it with ease and guided it to his mouth. Thomas struggled in horror as the attacker bit his wrist, blood dripping freely from his nose. The man’s lips created a seal around the puncture wound, and he began to suck.
He was drinking Thomas’ blood.
Overwhelmed by revulsion and pain, Thomas howled. He grabbed the neck of a broken wine bottle rolling near his feet and swiped the broken edges across the attacker’s face. The attacker’s eyes flashed angrily in the faint light filtering through the street, and he relaxed his jaw just enough for Thomas to pull free. Cursing, the attacker lunged at Thomas, wrapped an arm around his head and mouth to stifle him, and bit the inside of his elbow.
The man’s hand was foul and tainted by the coppery taste of blood, but whether it was the attacker’s or Thomas’ was impossible to say. Thomas tried to spit it out, but the hand pressed harder and Thomas gagged. He pulled at the man’s hand but couldn’t pry the man’s fingers from his mouth. Desperate, he smashed his fist into the man’s face again and again.
It was no good.
Pain exploded along Thomas’ skull as his head slammed against the concrete again, a powerful hand pinning him and exposing his throat. He tried to move, but his body remained limp and heavy as if he was already dead. A heavy weight pressed into his chest, and he could feel the man’s hot breath against his skin.
It was over. He was dying in a narrow street, minutes from the safety of his home. A psychopath was sucking the life from his veins, puncturing arteries that guaranteed death, and there was nothing he could do.
The pressure on his chest lifted.
A howl of pain echoed against the dumpster, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. For a few seconds, Thomas listened to wrestling, shouting, hissing, then footsteps receding into the night.
The faint rustle of fabric interrupted the night’s silence as something leaned over him.
Someone clicked their tongue.
Thomas opened his eyes, but he mostly saw broken bottles and dirt. A blurry figure stooped over him, his breath thick puffs of air that obscured Thomas’ vision. He thought he re
cognized a silhouette of a hat sitting at a jaunty angle.
Thomas tried to talk but only made a gasping sound. The dark figure leaned in and stopped.
Lips barely moving, Thomas managed to croak out a few words before darkness took him.
“Help . . . me. . . .”
2 Pink Sunglasses
Thomas inhaled—his mouth tasted of dust. He closed his mouth and sucked hard on the insides of his cheeks, secreting saliva, but it didn’t help. His mouth still felt dry.
At least he was alive.
He’d lived? Realization coursed through him, alerting him to the state of the rest of his body. Sharp pangs wracked his stomach. He gasped and snapped open his eyes.
“That’s it, kid. You’re awake now, eh?”
A man in his early forties stood up from a chair nearby and grinned, his lips pulling wide and flashing a perfect set of teeth, brown eyes sparkling and concerned. He wore a three-piece suit and fancy hat as if he’d materialized from a film noir movie.
“Glad to see you’re awake, kid. Welcome to the Red Lightning Pub. I’m your gracious host and wandering savior, Lawrence the Great. Lawrence the Brave. Maybe just Lawrence, the fella who saved your life.”
Thomas leaned forward, but the room spun and he fell back down, smacking his skull onto the cold, hardwood floor. He groaned. He was alive, but he wasn’t sure he was safe. The windows were dark, so it was still nighttime. How serious were his injuries? He hadn’t been able to sit up properly, although that was probably from blood loss. Why was he so thirsty? His stomach felt like it was imploding.
“You know what? Take it easy for a minute there. Here, the name is Lawrence. Call me Lawrence. Just Lawrence. Not Larry, Lawry, Laze, and never Louie, got it? Last one to call me Louie got dealt some real trouble, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”
Thomas opened his mouth to speak and coughed, his throat dry as well. Swallowing, he asked, “What happened?”
“I punched the guy so hard he fell into yesterday. Now ain’t nobody ever gonna call me Louie again.”
Shadows of Colesbrooke Page 2