Death's Hand (10 page)

Her ribs were crushed. Her head spun. Grit scraped against her bare leg, burning her skin. Elise squirmed out from under his body, freeing her legs.

Her foot lashed out. He reeled, unable to get his balance. She kicked again, and he collapsed.

Elise lifted her fists, ready for another attack.

He pushed himself back to his feet. He didn’t look like he was in any pain even though his head hung awkwardly to the side. His eyes, gray and clouded, didn’t focus on Elise.

His shoulders twitched, and a shudder ran through his body. His mouth flopped open, and his tongue rolled out, covered in thick green mucous.

“Elise,” he said. His mouth didn’t move to articulate the words, and the voice was garbled and echoing. He almost sounded… feminine. “I wish you hadn’t become involved.”

She stared. “
What
?”

The hallway lights flickered once, and went out completely.

Elise backtracked and hit the wall. She blinked rapidly, trying to make out shapes in the darkness, but the only light came from around the corner, and it wasn’t enough.

Something moved, slipping across the floor, scraping on the linoleum.

She spun, trying to face the source of the noise. It moved behind her, and she raised her fists. “Who’s there?” Elise said, trying to sound calm. Adrenaline sang through her veins.

More noises. Almost like… claws.

To her right.

She twisted, but not quickly enough. Pain flamed across her torso.

She cried out, clutching her stomach. Elise could almost see bulbous eyes sparkle in the darkness, but it darted away before she could focus.

She threw herself at the motion and barreled into something living.

They rolled. Elise punched blindly and was rewarded with the shriek of something inhuman, something terrible. Another fiend. She threw her body weight to roll it over, grabbing at what she hoped was its neck and pressing against the linoleum.

“Who do you work for?” she demanded.

It choked.

Something struck the back of Elise’s head. A gong chimed in her skull, shooting pain down her spine, and she fell.

The fiend scrabbled away. It sounded like the footsteps moved all around her, up and down, inside her skull.

The noise faded. She floated in a sea of her own pulse, trying to feel her limbs. Her fingers twitched, and then her toes.
Thank God
.

Where had they gone?

“Elise?”

Lights flared on. Elise moaned, covering her eyes. The pressure in her head had suddenly disappeared, and despite the pain in every inch of her body, she felt better. The fiends—and the body—were gone.

“James,” she groaned. “Help me up.” He knelt by her side and lifted her into a sitting position.

“Are you okay?” he asked, touching her arms, her forehead, her shoulders, her neck. When his fingers brushed the back of her head, she flinched.

“Yeah,” Elise groaned. “But… don’t touch that again. Where did you go?”

“A nurse passed and I had to ask her where the bathroom was to allay suspicion,” he said. “I doubled back as soon as I could. How bad are you hurt?”

“I could be a hell of a lot worse.” She parted her jacket to check out her stomach. “Oh, damn. I liked this shirt.” It was torn into bloody shreds.

“We need to get you upstairs. What happened?” he asked, helping Elise stand.

“That thing I was feeling earlier,” she said. “It was a fiend. And something else, too.”

“A fiend?”

She stumbled when she tried to stand. James caught her. “They’re these little gargoyle-looking demon things.” Elise touched her fingers to the back of her head. They came away clean. “I don’t think they like me.”

“At least we’re in the right place for horrible injuries.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “All I need is a shot of whiskey and an aspirin.”

“I want Stephanie to check you out,” he said. Elise groaned. “Head injuries are dangerous things. We’ll want that looked at.” She didn’t respond, so he went on. “You’re saying a lesser hellborn was just wandering the hospital?”

“Not quite.” They got into the elevator, and she leaned against the wall. Even that small motion made her ache. “The fiend was with someone. I don’t know who. He was dead.”

James stared. “…Dead.”

“Yeah.” The elevator chimed and began to move. “There was a toe tag on his foot and his skin was blue. He looked like he’d been dead for a couple days.”

“So the fiend was dragging him.”

“No.”

“How was it moving him, then?”

“You’re not getting what I’m saying,” Elise said. “He attacked me. He was animate, but… unconscious.”

“A zombie,” James said.

“I guess. Damn, my head hurts.”

“Hold still. We’re nearly there.”

They got off at the ground level, and James guided Elise toward the nurse’s station. He interrupted a passing candy striper. “Excuse me, but do you know where Dr. Whyte is at the moment?”

“She just went that way.” The girl pointed.

Just around the corner, Stephanie spoke to a pair of men in suits clutching attaché cases. She took one look at the blood on Elise’s shirt and excused herself, ushering James and Elise into an empty room.

“What happened?” the doctor asked, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.

“I got in a fight. Something—someone—hit me in the back of the head.”

Stephanie nodded. “Sit.”

Elise perched herself on the bed, and Stephanie drew a chair up to her side. The doctor thumbed open Elise’s eyelids. She had a second to register Stephanie’s badge—Dr. Whyte, with so many degrees after her name they almost didn’t fit—before a bright light blinded her.

“What year is it?”

“Two thousand nine.”

“Hold still. What’s your full name?”

“Elise Christine Kavanagh.”

Stephanie shone the light in her other eye. “Good. Move your arms. Good. And your legs.” She grabbed a blood pressure cuff off the wall and gestured for Elise to remove her coat. “Hold still for a minute.”

“Is she okay?” James asked, hovering nearby as Stephanie worked.

After a handful of quiet seconds, the doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears again and removed the cuff. “If someone was trying to hurt you badly, they failed. Here, have a couple of these.” Stephanie pulled a bottle of extra-strength headache medicine out of her pocket. “For the next few days, you need to watch out for headaches, sudden fatigue, difficulties with speech or sight. If you experience any of these symptoms, call an ambulance. What happened to your abdomen?”

“Fight with a rabid badger,” she said curtly. “Do you have time to look at it or not?”

“I could be spending this time making friends with the directors.” Stephanie pressed a thermometer to Elise’s forehead. “You’re surprisingly healthy for fighting badgers. Take off your shirt and lay back.” She grit her teeth and lifted her shirt over her head. The skin below her strapless bra was torn and bloody. Purple bruises were rapidly rising on her torso. “When did you get in this fight?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Interesting. This looks hours old.” Stephanie probed Elise’s stomach with her fingers. “Did you two get what we need?”

“Yes,” James said, slipping the key into her jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“How did it look?”

“You’re the professional. You’ll have to decide,” Elise said. “Ouch. Is this necessary?”

“Does it hurt more when I press down or when I release?”

“When you press down.”

“Lucky for you, all this blood isn’t a sign of internal damage.” She examined the scratches on Elise’s arm from the night before. “Are you a frequent visitor to my emergency room?”

“No, I usually treat my own wounds,” she said, pulling her arm away from Stephanie.

“Well, in
that
case…” She worked quickly—and not gently. Stephanie wrapped bandages around Elise’s torso to hold the sterile pads in place. “You two better get out of here. I’ll review Lucinde’s files later. Do you think you can get the coven together again tomorrow?”

“I’ll do what I can,” James said. “You have my phone number if you’d like to come over and look at the files, Stephanie.”

“Come on,” Elise interrupted, hopping off the table as she buttoned her jacket over the bandages, “let’s get out of here. I have a concert to attend.”

VII

Stephanie did not get around to reviewing Lucinde’s file that night. In fact, she never even made it home.

Her hours at work were spent touching skin through latex gloves; when the last examination was done and there were no emergencies left for her to handle, she was eager to drop the barriers and delight in the stroke of bare flesh upon bare flesh. And James Faulkner was all too happy to oblige her desires.

The wall was cold against her back. His hands were hot on her thighs, his breath steaming that spot behind her ear and ruffling the little hairs on the back of her neck. The tips of her nipples brushed against his chest and he moved inside her, purging her mind and body of cadaverous thoughts and hospital nightmares. James made love like he danced, with no small measure of grace and perhaps a little too much forethought, as though he choreographed and rehearsed his performance in advance. But he never failed to satisfy her.

Stephanie climaxed silently, shudders rippling through her spine. For an instant, she forgot about directors and workplace politics and the woman who had died that day because her grandchildren wanted her off life support.

Afterward, she took advantage of his shower and donned the robe he had loaned her. He had plenty of his belongings at her house, but none of hers at his. Stephanie preferred to have him over at her house, but she was glad to be able to break the monotony. His apartment had a sort of quaint bohemian charm.

James was sprawled in bed when she came back, one hand thrown behind his head to stretch the white scar on his shoulder into a thin line. He hadn’t bothered to dress other than putting on briefs and reading glasses. He studied Lucinde’s file with a pad of paper on the bedside. Stephanie sighed. “Working already?”

“Curiosity got the better of me.”

She got into bed beside him. “I hope it was okay for me to borrow your shampoo. I do have to wonder
why
you have women’s shampoo, though.”

“Elise sometimes assists with classes and showers before she goes back to work. It’s all right to borrow her shampoo if she doesn’t find out about it.” James smiled and set his glasses on the bedside table.

“Such secrecy,” she murmured. “How long have you been with Elise now?”

James frowned. “Ten years. But—”

“…it’s not like that,” Stephanie finished. “Yes, that’s not the first time you’ve said it. You smell really bad, by the way. Maybe you should consider a shower too.”

“You’ll just have to get used to the fact that dancers often smell like sweat,” he said. “You helped my odor a little, in case you’ve forgotten.” He kissed her, slow and explorative. James never seemed to be in a hurry. Stephanie pulled back before he was done, putting her finger on his lips.

“Don’t think I’m so easily distracted. You said we could finish our earlier conversation.”

“I was trying to make you forget about it,” he said. James slipped his reading glasses back on and returned his attention to Lucinde’s files, but Stephanie took them out of his hand.

“That’s confidential. Why don’t you trust me?”

“Will you ever let this conversation go?”

“I don’t see why I should.”

“There’s nothing else to be said, Stephanie. I’ve already explained that Elise stayed with my aunt when her parents went on an extended trip. When Pamela died, I took charge.”

She stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t continue. “And?”

“The longer version story involves the reason her parents left and why we spent five years traveling the world. But for her sake, I can’t tell you more than that.” James kissed her again, and she was slightly more tolerant of it this time.

“I knew that girl was trouble,” Stephanie said when he let her go. “So what did you do during that time? When you were traveling, I mean.”

“It was nothing interesting.” James began to reach toward the lamp, but then he caught sight of Stephanie’s expectant look. “Oh, fine. Much of it we spent camping—borrowing tents or cabins and staying on the fringes of society. It was easier. I didn’t want to get comfortable and Elise didn’t trust anyone. You’re making a face. What’s the matter?”

“If I didn’t know you so well, I would be extremely suspicious of a grown man making excuses to live in isolation with a teenage girl.”

James laughed. “Your suspicion is why we’re having this discussion in the first place.”

“Can you blame me?” Stephanie caught his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “Of
course
I don’t think you’re a pervert, James. I trust you.”

“I thought my perversion was why you’re here tonight,” he murmured, slipping a hand under the sheets. She pushed him off.

“James. Really.”

He laughed. “Her mother was only five years older than me, so we sort of grew up in the coven together,” he said. “Elise needed someone to trust. It never crossed my mind to take advantage of the situation.”

“Of course not,” Stephanie said. “I would never think you would.” That was a lie, but it was as close to an apology for her paranoia as she would deliver. James accepted it with a silent nod.

“Elise and I will always be friends. Ten years is a long time.” His voice sharpened. “So if you’re hoping she’ll go away sometime soon…”

“She came into my emergency room looking like she was attacked by an animal. I bet it was a gang thing. I don’t like you being around someone like that.”

“I respect your opinion and will take it into consideration.” Another lie. She decided to let it pass as easily as he had let hers, and she moved to allow him to turn the lights off. They settled in to fall asleep with his arm thrown over her stomach.

After a moment, Stephanie said, “She’s pretty enough. I don’t know
why
it wouldn’t have crossed your mind.”

James gave a long-suffering sigh into the darkened bedroom.

Stephanie curled a lock of red-gold hair around her finger. Elise wouldn’t
always
be around. Stephanie was going to talk James into moving out of the apartment soon, and they would move somewhere that woman would no longer have her own shampoo.