[Corine Solomon 5] Agave Kiss (24 page)

“You’re my friend. Of course I should.”

He shook his head. “When I confronted Barachiel with the truth, he laughed, Corine. He
laughed
. I tried to fight him . . . and could not. I am bound to serve him, bound to suffer his punishments, for no purpose greater than his whim. And I begin to think he is truly mad.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I said.

Barachiel hadn’t struck me as possessing an excess of sanity anyway. Plus, power had a track record of sending people around the bend. The more they had, the more they wanted, until they reached critical mass, where nothing in the world could content them. I feared Barachiel had long since reached that tipping point.

The half demon stirred at our feet. A bullet in the brain had only slowed him down, not neutralized him. Given what I’d seen my friend endure, I had no idea how to take this monster out. To make matters worse, I felt sorry for Ahadiel, as he was trapped, just like Kel.
If only there was some way to break Barachiel’s hold . . .

Kel’s features hardened. “Take his head. It’s the only way.”

I didn’t blame him for that response. The wounds Ahadiel had inflicted were still raw and numerous, and since they had been carved with one of those special silver knives, they took longer to heal. The agony must be excruciating.

But Booke paled, his face going green at the prospect of decapitating a humanoid. I guessed it was different with hellhounds. And I didn’t look forward to doing that job either. Kel seemed to read our reluctance.

“Help me up. If you cannot, I will. It must be done.”

I offered him my hand, as did Booke, and together we towed him to his feet. He rocked a little but got his balance, and then he took the knife from the other half demon. I could see it required all his energy, but he bent to do the job. He sawed through the neck while the half demon squirmed on the ground, moaning. Butch whimpered inside my bag.
Poor dog. I know just how you feel.

When I realized how Kel intended to finish the job, I grimaced and turned my face away. But I still heard the wet, squelching pop of a head being torn away via brute strength. Some horrific part of me had to see, had to know, so I glanced back, to find Kel standing with bloody hands, a hopeless expression on his face. His tatts glimmered with faint, arcane light, a sign of magick being expended, or strong emotion. In this case, I suspected it was both.

The dead half demon on the ground crumbled from fresh corpse to dry remains and then down into dust. I figured once the magick keeping him alive went away, age and physics took over. Kel raked his boot through the ashes, head bowed. I could only imagine what must be running through his mind.

“Are you good to go?” I asked.

That wasn’t what I wanted to know. I wanted to ask if he was all right—and yet I already knew the answer. He wasn’t—not even close—and his problems weren’t physical. Kel had just discovered that his whole life was a lie, and that those he trusted had used him for evil. I stumbled away from the table, hating the pain I saw in him, but unable to impact it.

“I can walk,” Kel said.

As for me, I needed Booke’s shoulder because the charm he’d used to remove all magickal effects from me also negated the numbing powder he’d used on my thigh. So while my arms and shoulders were all right again, my leg hurt like a bitch. He guided me carefully out through the tunnels, though I rested periodically, fighting the urge to pain-vomit. Eventually we made it to the car, so I handed him the keys.

“I can’t. I think we need to find a hospital.”

“I could not agree more,” Booke said.

He held the seat so I could tumble into the back of the Pinto. Kel offered, but he was hurt worse than me; I feared the wrong angle would make his intestines fall out. He just needed a place to sleep for three days. My leg would grow putrid if I tried the same treatment. I angled to the side to stretch my thigh, but it hurt so much, a fierce throbbing deep in the muscle.

“I’ll probably be unconscious by the time we get to the hospital,” Kel said softly. “So I’ll say it now. Thank you. Nobody’s ever come for me before.”

Gods, that just broke my heart. By the way he cleared his throat and murmured a choked
You’re welcome
,
Booke felt the same way. To cover his reaction, he started the car, then belted in.

I dug into my bag to get my phone. A few clicks and then: “This is the nearest hospital, and I’ve mapped the route for you.” I handed it to Booke.

“Hang on, Corine. Everything will be all right.”

Emergency Services

T
hat was all I knew for a little while. I blacked out in the car and woke to Booke dragging me out of the Pinto. He’d parked the car askew at the Emergency entrance. I didn’t blame him, as two of his passengers had passed out.

As I pulled myself onto the pavement, I said, “Go park the car. We can’t let them see Kel. They’ll want to admit him too, and we’re gonna have a hard enough time explaining my wounds. Let’s not add his fast healing to the mix.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, limping toward the doors, which slid open at my approach. Fortunately, an orderly was passing with a wheelchair when I stumbled in, and he rushed forward to help me. I sank down into the seat, huffing out a pained sigh. He pushed me toward the front desk.

“Animal attack?” he asked.

“Yes, a big dog.”

“Surely you didn’t drive yourself to the ER? Why didn’t you call 911?”

Here we go,
I thought.
Now I get to tell the story in a way that makes sense . . . and doesn’t include demons.

“No. I was out hiking with a friend, no emergency response where we were. We paused to eat, and some wild dogs came after us. They must’ve been hungry.”

“Probably. How many were there?”

“Three. All Rottweilers.” That much was true.

“Jesus. Somebody running a fight ring probably. How many of them got at you?”

“Just one. My friend managed to kill the others.”

“Shit, did the biter get away?”

I had no idea why that mattered. “No, we got that one too, eventually. But not before it chewed the hell out of my thigh.”

“Did you bring the body with you?”

“Uh, what? No.”

“Your friend will need to go back out there. We can’t be sure if you need the rabies vaccine until we test the animal.”

Oh, crap.
I never even thought of that. “Isn’t that like sixteen horrible shots in the stomach?”

He laughed. “These days, it’s like a flu shot, and you get it in the arm. But you’ll need multiple vaccines over a few weeks to complete the course.”

That was better than a needle in the gut. “When Booke gets in here, I’ll tell him to drive back out there. Hopefully the carcasses are still there.”

“Don’t leave it long, or other predators may carry off the remains.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

He signaled to the woman behind the desk, conveying my story in far fewer words than I’d used. Then he concluded, “I’ll park her until you get the paperwork done and you’re ready to send her back.”

There were others ahead of me, of course. A gunshot wound, a stabbing, a little boy with a burned hand. His eyes were red and puffy with crying, his mother stroking his head worriedly. What a crappy place to end the day. Besides the antiseptic smell, hospitals radiated despair, as if the walls absorbed all the illness until it radiated on an emotional level. Probably that was just my personal distaste showing through. Probably. But I was careful not to touch anything, not to let my gift break free in these environs.

I’d filled out one form by the time Booke joined me, wearing a worried look. He knelt beside the chair. “Do you want me to take over?”

“My hands are fine. If you really want to help, apparently they need the dead dog for testing.”

“Rabies,” he guessed. The guy was smarter and more strategic than me.

“Exactly. I hate to send you back out there, but—”

“It’s not a problem. I’d rather stay with you, but if it needs done, I’m happy to help. But I insist on ringing Chuch or Shannon. You shouldn’t be here alone.”

Since I really hated hospitals, I didn’t argue. “Call Shan.”

Booke did as I asked, and the conversation was brief. Then he reported, “She’ll be here in half an hour.”

“Thanks, B.”

“I’ve never had a sporty nickname before. I rather like it.” Smiling, he kissed my cheek and then he strode toward the sliding doors.

The room didn’t get less depressing after he departed. In fact it was worse. At first I had the paperwork to occupy me, but that went pretty fast. The receptionist gave me a look when I presented my insurance card; I guessed I didn’t look like the sort who had any, but I paid the premiums knowing I was prone to trouble. Until now, I had been fairly lucky—I hadn’t been in the hospital as a patient since I fell through the floor of a burning building, years back.

The reason you finally left Chance.

Once I filled out all the forms and the receptionist copied my information, I wheeled myself away from the desk and found a place to park out of the way of hall traffic. The other patients went before me. I was still waiting when Shannon arrived, breathless and pale. I mean, she was always pale, but this time she didn’t have on any makeup to brighten her up.

She hugged me hard, brushing the hair out of my face. “You look like shit.”

“Right back at you.”

“Had a fight with Jesse,” she muttered.

“What about?”

“Please. I didn’t come to the ER to dump my probs on you. What the hell happened . . . and
why
didn’t you take me with you? I could’ve brought the undead, you know, dropped the unholy might of ghost-fu on their demon asses.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me. “I just got you home and safe. You’re crazy if you think I’m putting you at risk again.”

Saving you once cost too much already.

“Bullshit.” Her blue eyes snapped anger at me. “Don’t put that on me. We already went one round on this, and this is the last time I’ll say it. If we’re friends, we’re equals. You can’t protect me, can’t decide what I get to do . . . and I don’t want you around if you try.”

That was pure Shannon, bitching me out when I had a hole in my thigh. To be fair, maybe I wouldn’t
be
in this situation if I’d let her guard my back. She commanded the dead, plus some pretty impressive expertise with a sword these days, a skill she’d learned in Sheol. I still wasn’t clear on how long we’d been there. I only knew that time ran differently, so I suspected it was like a reversal of fairy legends, where it seemed like forever in hell, but on earth it had only been a few weeks.

“Fair enough,” I said quietly. “I should’ve brought you in when we went after Kel. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’ve got too much on your plate,” she told me.

I sighed. “No argument from me.”

“You promise no more of this? I’m not a kid. You accept this?”

“I do.” Still, when you cared, it was second nature to try to protect them, even if they were old enough—and fierce enough—to do their own ass-kicking. “And when I figure out what I need to do to bring Chance back, you’ll be there. Promise.”

“That’s what I fought with Jesse about, actually.”

I raised a brow. “Really? Why?”

“He thinks I’m enabling you, encouraging your delusions.” Her mouth tightened. “But he wasn’t there. He didn’t hear what Chance said . . . and
how
he said it. If anybody can come back from the other side—”

“It’s him,” I finished.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s got the godling thing going on. That’s not normal either. So I told Jesse to STFU and butt out, unless there’s some reason he doesn’t want you back with Chance.”

“I’m guessing that pissed him off.”

Shan grinned. “Hells to the yeah. He accused me of not trusting him. I’m pretty sure he’s heard that shit before, but I was just ringing his bell.”

A belly laugh escaped me, startling the guy who had shot his own foot while cleaning his gun. “He’s gonna be even madder when he realizes you were just distracting him from the real issue. But I swear I’m not crazy.” I started to tell her about the dreams, but at that moment the receptionist called me to the back.

Shannon wouldn’t give way to the orderly; she pushed my wheelchair toward the door that led through into a kind of holding pen separated by cloth screens, metal framework and what looked like curtain rods holding everything together. She helped me from the chair onto the bed, and the medical equipment surrounding me gave me an unpleasant flashback to the last time I was admitted.

Please just fix me and release me.

The orderly—the same one who had helped me at the start—gave us a few instructions, which included me putting on a stupid gown. With Shan’s help, I managed it after he left. By the time I got settled I was winded . . . and my thigh was on fire. A few moments later, a doctor pushed through the curtain with my new chart in hand, looking too young to be done with medical school. But I didn’t care about her age, only her qualifications, and she looked professional with her dark hair caught up in a neat ponytail and a pair of rectangular glasses perched on her nose. Her name tag read DOCTOR
ROSALES.

“I see you ran into some wild dogs while you were hiking. Let’s have a look.” She folded my gown back to reveal the wound, and my stomach churned.

By closing my eyes, I tolerated her examination, which seemed to take forever. So much poking and prodding while Shan stroked my head in a comforting fashion. Gods, I was lucky to have her.

Then the doc said, “I saw on your chart that you didn’t know your blood type. Have you never been treated before?”

“I just don’t remember what it is,” I admitted. “You can send to the hospital in Tampa for my records if you like.”

“Which one?”

I told her.

“We’ll do that, but I’m going to order a full panel of routine blood work just to be safe before we operate.”

“Why?”

“Just as a precaution. I need to make sure there’s nothing else going on before we put you under. If you have high blood pressure, we need to know in order to decide what kind of anesthetic to use.”