Coven of Mercy (2 page)

Mrs Curtis’ pulse faltered beneath my fingers and I forgot his alluring gaze. I reached past him and slapped the alarm button for Miriam. “We need an infusion, Miriam, stat,” I said, not waiting for her query.

She knew where I was and would call up the blood type.

The stranger, meanwhile, had stepped around the end of the bed. He leaned over Mrs Curtis and, before I could stop him, touched her throat gently with his fingertips. The gesture was reverent, that of a lover saying farewell.

When he lifted his hand, those two round holes were gone.

As if they’d never been there.

I blinked and stared, but the flesh was perfect.

I had seen them, though. I had seen what he had done.

Mrs Curtis sighed and her head fell to one side. The pulse monitor began to sound an alarm.

Everything happened quickly then: Miriam arrived with the blood and we worked together, two other nurses following instructions. Mrs Curtis’ vitals rapidly went from bad to worse. Her pulse rate slowed and became erratic. Her breathing became more laboured, rattling in her throat, her skin became paler. Nothing we did made a difference. Miriam was the perfect partner, both of us knowing exactly what had to be done when.

But it was too late.

My hands were on her scarred chest when Mrs Curtis’ heart stopped right beneath my palms. I would have kept trying, but Miriam touched my shoulder.

“There’s no point, Dr Taylor,” she said quietly, and even knowing she was right, it was hard to lift my hands away.

This battle had been more important to me, although they all were critical. I blinked back unexpected tears as Miriam pulled the sheet over Mrs Curtis’ face. The two other nurses left quietly and I took a shaking breath. I turned away from the sight of Mrs Curtis’ still figure.

I’d lost.

The night was inky black beyond the windows, a perfect echo of my mood.

No. I hadn’t lost. I’d been cheated.

By Micah.

I spun, finding Miriam halfway to the door. “That man, Miriam, did you see him? Where did he go?”

Miriam gave me a quizzical look. “What man, Dr Taylor?”

“Mrs Curtis’ visitor; you couldn’t have missed him. You must have passed him on your way in here with the blood.”

She frowned. “I didn’t see anyone but staff tonight.”

“Maybe he works here.” I shrugged. “He was with Mrs Curtis when I arrived, talking to her. He was tall and dark, about thirty-five, leather jacket and long dark hair . . . ” I faltered to silence as I realized Miriam had no idea who I was talking about.

“I think I’d remember a man like that,” Miriam said with a smile. “Are you sure, Dr Taylor?”

I glanced back at Mrs Curtis again. I knew what I had seen. Why hadn’t Miriam seen him? I remembered the way he had made the marks of his feasting disappear, and bit my tongue.

No one would believe that I’d seen a vampire.

And I wasn’t going to ask Miriam about bats in the ward.

Miriam crossed the floor, her shoe soles squeaking on the linoleum. She touched my elbow briefly and I started in surprise. No one ever touched me, especially not at work. “Time to go, Dr Taylor.” She gestured to the door and I knew she was right. Lingering wouldn’t change anything.

“I’ll call her family,” Miriam said kindly when we were in the hall.

“Does she have a partner?”

“A sister. I have the number. I’ll tell her how hard you tried.” Miriam studied me, then smiled. “Go home, Dr Taylor, go home and get some sleep.”

I was confused by her compassion. “I’m fine. I’ll go down to the lab . . . ”

She exhaled sharply and looked stern. “I understand that you did rounds at seven this morning, and now it’s almost midnight.”

There was frost hanging from every word of my response. “I always work long hours.” And they were no one’s business but mine.

“But you don’t always see people who aren’t there, Dr Taylor, do you?”

I could have argued that the stranger
had
been there, that I knew what I had seen, but I saw that Miriam wouldn’t be persuaded. I nodded an acknowledgment, thanked her and returned to the elevator.

But I didn’t go home.

I went to the cafeteria and nursed a coffee from the vending machine, reviewing everything I had done, seeking the error in my judgment. I always do this kind of examination, always try to improve my strategy.

I’d done nothing wrong.

I just hadn’t allowed for vampires in my statistical analysis.

Vampires. Maybe there was something to Miriam’s concern. Maybe I had been pushing myself too hard. I was tired, there was no disputing that.

But how can anyone sleep when the battle is so relentless? Cancer never sleeps and it takes advantage of every weakness. It would win, maybe even while I was sleeping, and I couldn’t let that happen. There already weren’t enough hours in the day.

It was getting light when I ditched the cold coffee, then left the hospital. If nothing else, I’d shower and change my clothes at home before returning for morning rounds. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat to keep from looking back to Mrs Curtis’ room. I ignored the cars of my co-workers pulling into their parking spaces.

I was halfway across the lot when I saw the stranger leaning against the front fender of my car.

Waiting.

For me.

He had that amused smile again, which was more than enough to set me off.

I was across the parking lot in record time, fury and exhaustion making me more volatile than usual. “You killed her!”

The stranger didn’t move away from my anger. He leaned one hip against my car, his arms folded across his chest. He was dark and large and could have been carved from stone.

No, he could have been sculpted from stone. He was beautiful, his dark eyes thickly lashed, his mouth sensuously curved. I felt an awareness of him and our proximity, an awareness I resented.

He was a predator, a murderer, a vampire. He might as well have been on the enemy side.

Micah.
It was a name that suited him. Just a little bit different. Unexpected. Old and strong.

I glared at him. “You did, didn’t you?”

He inclined his head slightly. “Yes.” He moved slowly, elegantly, every gesture thoughtful. He closed his eyes briefly, his features touched with a sadness I didn’t understand.

“How could you do that?”

“I have to feed.”

“Isn’t there someone else you could kill? A criminal or a wild animal? Someone who deserves to die?”

“Everyone will die, deserving or not.”

“But she was going to live. I was winning . . . ”

“Maybe she’s at peace now.”

“No. She’s dead now.”

He was amused again. “Not in heaven?”

I was as impatient with this idea as ever. My father and I had argued this up, down and sideways and I knew my position well. “There is no heaven and there is no hell. There is life and there is death and everything else is just romance.”

“Just
romance?”

“There’s no point in self-delusion. Get away from my car.”

“You need to understand . . . ”

“I understand everything, thanks. You
fed,
and she died because of it. That’s evil.”

He didn’t move. He frowned and averted his gaze, and I thought that maybe I had touched his conscience. But to my surprise, he spoke with regret and changed the subject. “Once I had a child,” he began softly, but his own history didn’t interest me.

“No. I don’t care. No matter what you’ve lost, you have no right to decide whether another person lives or dies.”

He met my gaze steadily and parted his lips, letting me see the sharp points of his fangs. “I have every right.”

“No. No. Vampires don’t exist,” I said. I jammed my key into the lock of the door on the driver’s side. He still didn’t move.

“Then who killed the woman?” he asked mildly. “You?”

“No! I was the one who would have saved her. You stole that victory away.”

“Victory?”

I heard my own fears in that single word. “Sure, it was back, but it hadn’t won yet. I had a treatment plan prepared. We would have gone after it, hard.” I held his gaze, knowing my own was filled with accusation and anger. “I would have
won.
I would have saved her. But you stole her first.” I took a deep breath and glared at him. He watched me steadily, those full lips curving in that damned amusement. “You cheated me and you cheated Mrs Curtis.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

But I wasn’t and he knew it. You can never be sure. Remission might be permanent or might not be. I’d been sure that Mrs Curtis’ previous round of treatment would finish the cancer, but the blood tests don’t lie.

He was watching me. “Don’t you want to know the rest of the story?”

There was something seductive about his voice, something that I feared I would find compelling. There was something more seductive about the notion that he knew more than I did, and that he would share. Why did I recognize him? How could it be possible?

How could I not remember?

I felt charmed by him and didn’t trust the jumbled feelings I felt in his presence. I was aroused. I was furious. I wanted to know how he kissed. I wanted him to disappear for ever. “No,” I said with a heat that was rare for me.

His eyes twinkled, their darkness lit as the night sky had been lit with stars. “What if I don’t want to go?”

I shoved him and he moved from the fender of my car. There was nothing virtual about him. He felt muscled, as if he worked out, solid and real, and I tingled in an unwelcome way.

“You can’t stop the coven of mercy, Rosemary,” Micah whispered, his words making me catch my breath.

“How do you know my name?” He’d known which car was mine, too.

“I know a lot of things.” He arched a dark brow. “I’ve watched you for a long time. Not everyone prefers solitude.”

His words startled me, in more ways than one, but he didn’t have a shard of doubt. He was too smug, too sure.

Maybe a little bit too much like me.

I needed to get some sleep.

“There is no coven of mercy and there was no mercy in what you did. Get away from my car.”

“Is her death what’s really bothering you?” he asked, his words low. “Or is it that you lost a chance to win? Is this about the person or the score?”

I slapped him then, hard, right across the face. His head jerked to one side and the red mark of my hand showed on his cheek.

I was afraid then, afraid for a moment that I’d pushed him too hard.

What he did next astonished me.

He looked at me steadily for a long moment in which my heart thundered in terror, then he pivoted with the grace of a giant cat. He strode silently across the parking lot, towards the surrounding scrub of trees.

The hospital was new, built slightly outside of town, surrounded by undeveloped land. There were scrubby trees and a little creek, a tangle of undergrowth and a nature trail. There was still snow there, caught in the bit of brush, and the tree branches were dark and bare.

The sky was turning pink in the east by then, and my hands clenched as I watched his dark figure move away. His boots crunched on the snow, as real as I was. I was so angry that I was tempted to go after him, argue some more, shake him.

Kiss him.

A car door slammed near me and I jumped, surprised to find Dr Bradley stepping out of his Subaru so close at hand. He ran the labs and was my boss. “Are you all right, Dr Taylor?”

“Good morning, Dr Bradley.” I forced a smile.

He didn’t smile, just came to my side, his expression concerned. “Have you been here all night? Again?” He was paternal, a good twenty years older than me.

I made a gesture of futility, not knowing how much I wanted to share and too tired to work it out. “I was just going home for a shower.”

“And arguing with yourself about it.”

“What?”

“You were shadow-boxing when I pulled in.”

“No, there was a guy here . . . ” I recognized immediately that Dr Bradley hadn’t seen the stranger.

Just like Miriam.

I stopped talking before I condemned myself.

Dr Bradley cleared his throat. “I know you’ve been working really hard lately, Dr Taylor, but indulge me, will you?”

I was wary. “What do you mean?”

“You look exhausted and have for a while. I’m wondering about your iron and iron stores. You’re probably not eating well any more often than you’re sleeping well. And I’m probably being cautious, but your expertise is valuable to the team.”

He smiled, softening the impact of his words, but I got the drift. No one was glad to have me around, but they liked my abilities. Someone like Dr Bradley would never understand why a lack of human connection didn’t bother me.

Even if, this time, it did. A bit.

“Meaning?” I asked in my most professional tone.

“That prevention is the best medicine. Indulge me and get a routine suite of blood work done. We both know that it’ll be easier to improve your iron counts sooner rather than later.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I just didn’t sleep last night.”

“When did you last have a physical?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t the only one who never got around to it.

He smiled, the way he always did when he wanted something extra from his staff. For once, it worked like a charm on me. “Just humor me.” He winked and turned away, giving me a last wave. “I’ll leave the requisitions on your desk this morning. Promise?”

“Sure, Dr Bradley.” It wasn’t as if I was afraid of needles and test results. And I had felt as if I was running on empty lately. I knew I just needed more sleep, but it wouldn’t hurt to have my haemoglobin checked.

I got in my car, went home and had a shower.

Then I drank the better part of a pot of good coffee and came back to work. Cancer doesn’t need to rest, after all. The battle rages, even when we leave the field. Maybe it moves faster when we aren’t looking.

Coven of mercy.
What had the stranger meant?

His name was Micah.

Micah.

Two days after Mrs Curtis’ death, her last batch of test results came back from the lab. There was also a reminder from Dr Bradley that I hadn’t given my blood samples yet. I crumpled the message and tossed it out. I’d just been too busy for details.