Cassandra's Dilemma (3 page)

“Well, that’s all right then. Coffee?” She picked up a familiar white cup with a green logo and pressed it into Cassie’s hands. “Peppermint, chocolate, and coffee with cow’s milk—you come up with the most delightful concoctions.”

Cassie took a grateful sip and closed her eyes for a moment. She really wanted to catch her breath. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The young woman waved a hand and then glanced around the garden. “Shoo, all of you.”

Stealing a look around her, Cassie wasn’t sure to whom the Danae spoke. Nothing moved or erupted from the brush, but then the residents of Underhill could have simply shifted rather than walk away.

“Sit.” The Danae’s coquettish voice turned sober and serious. “We must talk. Tell me of the explosion.”

The soft grass tickled her legs as Cassie sank down. She really didn’t want to know if the hospital gown gaped open. Cassie was grateful that Helcyon hadn’t been among those the Danae shooed when he draped a soft silk wrap over her back. Her question was answered. Cassie looked straight forward, but the warmth of Helcyon’s legs came to rest against her.

“I really don’t remember much. I was talking to Billy—” Cassie swallowed the clot of tears thickening in her throat. “He brought me a cup of coffee. He wanted to check the bandstand. We had an excellent turnout. I finished my coffee. I looked up at the stand, and Billy gave me the thumbs-up. Then boom.”

“So he gestured, and the explosion happened?” The Danae cocked her head, much as Helcyon had earlier. But where his expression was grim, the Danae’s was thoughtful, probing, and unnervingly sparkly despite the dark news.

“Yes, but the thumbs-up meant everything was ready for your announcement.” Cassie was used to explaining the euphemisms. The Danae loved her language and had derailed more than one meeting when Cassie used a colloquialism.

“You will need to investigate this further, Cassandra Belle.”

“Investigate? I’m sorry. What?”

“You are our representative. You are our shield to the world and our glamour. We desire that you discover who caused this mischief, and if they be human, you may give them over to your human authorities.”

“If they’re human? Your Majesty, forgive me, but I’m no investigator. I’m a—I’m a media consultant. I do public relations.”

“This is public relations. I cannot release my Hounds. I must know. We wish to come out to the world. You gave us assurances that you could handle the ‘fallout’ of our reintroduction. Now we take you at your word.” The Danae patted Cassie’s arm, a soothing, motherly gesture, as though reminding Cassie that she did know best. Even if what she was asking sounded impossible.

“Assurances there wouldn’t be a bomb? Your Majesty, forgive me—I’m very tired, and I want to help…”

“Then it is done.”

“How am I supposed to investigate?” Cassie fought against the urge to whine, focusing instead on the practical matter. “I’m sure the police want to ask me questions. We didn’t exactly publicize what the announcement was about, and I should call Billy’s parents.” She couldn’t help it this time. A sob caught in the back of Cassie’s throat. She’d loved Billy. She’d loved his earnestness and his company. It just didn’t seem right that one moment he was there and the next moment gone.

“Hmmm. For encouragement, we shall give you seven days. Seven days or we shall consider our contract null.” The Danae paused, tapping her lip. A breeze played with her hair. Cassie stared as the tendrils fluffed and smoothed. She couldn’t really feel much of the breeze on her own skin, and it looked more like the breeze toyed with the Danae’s hair as a lover would. “As for security, Helcyon,
you
will assist Ms. Belle.”

“As you desire, Your Majesty.”

“We do. You will protect her. She is our voice in their world, our judge, our jury. If she deems that which harmed her not to be of human origin, you will execute it.”

“As you desire, Your Majesty.”

Helcyon’s patient responses reminded her of the farm boy in that movie with the princess.
Of course, look what he became.

“Your Majesty, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Cassie blinked, but the Danae was gone.

A brush of warm air kissed her cheek. Cassie twisted to look into the deep well of Helcyon’s eyes. A jet-black gaze stared back at her. She could barely tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. His expression was not unkind. His warm fingers brushed over her eyelids, closing them.

Dammit.

“It’s time to sleep. When you wake in the hospital, you will still be healed, but we will glamour you so that others do not know.” His smooth voice washed over her. Cassie’s jaw cracked as she yawned. “I will be here when you wake. Nothing more will harm you, Cassandra Belle. You have my word on it.”

Not supposed to look them in the eye…

Chapter Two

The quiet hissing noise penetrated the fog of sleep. Her eyes opened slowly. Blinking hurt, so Cassie closed them again. Gunk crusted her lashes, and swallowing burned. A straw pressed against her lips, offering the sweet taste of moisture. Sucking gently, she sighed as cool water filled her mouth.

The second attempt at opening her eyes succeeded, and she discovered Helcyon gazing down at her. The corners of her mouth turned up as her gaze roamed over his sculpted features. “Pretty,” Cassie murmured, eyes drifting closed again.

“Ms. Belle. I’m Doctor Elizabeth Randals.”

The feminine voice did not match the dark eyes and chiseled features. Cassie looked at Helcyon and then followed his gaze to the woman standing at the foot of the bed. She was tall, mid forties, and wearing a white lab coat. She looked like a doctor. A careless ponytail kept the dishwater blonde hair off her face.

“What?” Cassie lifted a hand to rub at her eyes, but Helcyon grasped the wandering hand firmly. The medication left her muddleheaded and fuzzy. She could have sworn her face was healed.
Yes, but no one else knows. The glamour creates the illusion of the injuries, only. Remember?
The relationship with the Fae grew more complicated by the day.
What is real? What isn’t?

The corner of Helcyon’s mouth quirked, as though he was aware of the thoughts racing through her mind. A grimace puckered her lips.

Is mind reading one of their gifts?

She frowned, concentrating on Helcyon’s eyes and mouth, hoping that his expression might betray the answer for her.

A throat clearing dragged her attention away from the Elf. “Good morning, Ms. Belle. I’m Doctor Randals.”

“Right. Doctor Randals. Got it.” Cassie squinted against the washed-out light from the fluorescents overhead. A dull ache pounded in the back of her skull. “You said that before.”

“Very good. I’m your physician. You’re in the burn unit of Chicago Metro.”

“Okay.”
Burn unit. Chicago Metro.
Cassie lifted forward, grasping the straw with her lips to take another drink. Helcyon held the cup out to her, either anticipating her need or having just held it there while she focused on the doctor.

Painkillers need to go. I can’t think like this.
Cassie frowned at the languid sensations pervading her body. She gazed away from the doctor and glanced at the IV in her arm. Hadn’t Helcyon removed that the night before?

“Ms. Belle, you must be careful about your face. While the burns were not severe, they were extensive.” The doctor’s words penetrated Cassie’s distracted haze.

“Burned?” She hadn’t imagined the Brownie healing, had she? Cassie tested it by opening her mouth wide, as though to yawn, wincing as her skin pinched. She looked back at the doctor, who studied her from the foot of the bed. “Doctor…”

“…Randals,” the physician repeated. She came around the bed and pulled out a small penlight.

Cassie bit back an oath as the doctor shined a light in her eyes. Dazzled, she clenched them closed, but it didn’t stop the starbursts from appearing on the inside of her eyelids.

“You’ve created quite a bit of stir, Ms. Belle. Can you tell me what day of the week it is?”

“It’s Tuesday.” Cassie frowned. “Wait. It was Tuesday. I was in the park. There was an explosion. Is it Wednesday now?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The doctor seemed pleased by the correct response. “You have a concussion, some abrasions, bruises, and some burns. You’ve been out of it for most of the last twenty-four hours. We ordered a CAT scan while you were sleeping and an MRI. I didn’t see any bleeds, but I’d like you to stay in the hospital for at least another twenty-four hours.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Head injuries are a serious trauma.” Dr. Randals continued to page through the chart. “We inserted a catheter last night. We can remove that if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Please.” Cassie refused to contemplate where the catheter had been on the trip Underhill or how it had been put back into place.

The doctor nodded and set the chart to the side before moving to drawers near the side of the bed and pulling out a pair of sterile gloves. Her clinical expression didn’t shift. “You’ll need to step out for a few minutes, sir.”

Helcyon’s gaze flickered toward the physician and then returned to Cassie with a small nod. “I’ll be directly outside.”

The words lingered in the air, whispering a quiet comfort even as the door drifted closed behind him. The room was dimmer, quieter, and altogether emptier without his presence.

The door barely drifted shut behind him when the doctor began poking and prodding. Removing the catheter was both a relief and a pain. Cassie kept her complaints to herself.

“Let’s get you sitting up, slowly, and feel free to pause at any time. We’re not in a rush.”

Cassie’s head swam briefly as she endured the process. Soon, she was sitting up in the bed with two of the three IVs removed from her arm. The doctor used a mirror to show her the damage to her face, but the shiny redness belied new skin growth. Cassie frowned, because when she squinted, the illusion shivered in favor of pinkish new skin. She resisted the urge to run her fingers over it. Her hair, however, was another matter. The long mane of brown had been shorn unevenly, leaving one side long and the other bald in patches. She wondered how much went to the butchering of scissors and how much to fire.

“Your shoulder is sprained. Initially, the EMTs believed you’d dislocated it. A sprain will ache, but you shouldn’t lose much in the way of your mobility…” Dr. Randals kept the running litany going as she extended Cassie’s arm and then had her lift it over her head. The muscles in her chest and shoulder felt tight.

Every poke and prod earned a notation on the chart, and finally Dr. Randals nodded, satisfied with her level of torture. “Any questions?”

Cassie had only one. “When can I get out of here?” Whatever surface damage she’d suffered had been healed by the Brownie. It made no sense to linger in the hospital, not when she had a mission to complete. The pressing need to get moving weighed heavily on her conscience. She wasn’t an investigator, but whoever or whatever set that bomb had killed Billy and nearly killed Cassie.

That made it damn personal.

The doctor blinked owlishly. “I would like to keep you one more day for observation…”

“Do I really need observation?”

“As I explained earlier, you do have a concussion. Some head traumas can take time to present, and I would feel more comfortable if you gave it at least another twenty-four hours.”

“But you can’t force me to stay,” Cassie pressed. “I don’t really need the IV or the machines.”

Dr. Randals clucked her tongue severely. “Ms. Belle, I understand your impatience, but it’s better to take things like this slowly, particularly if you don’t have anyone who can stay with you for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours—”