Flame Unleashed (Hell to Pay) (12 page)

“I’d like to try.” She actually growled.

With her strength equal to his, Odie couldn’t restrain her indefinitely.

“Please,
chère
,” he whispered. “Think of Barnaby.”

Something snapped in her fierce anger, her body sagged, and Odie slid his arms away from her arms.

But then she stiffened and faced down Jerahmeel.

Oh,
mon dieu
, she might be brave, but this bordered on foolhardiness of epic proportions.

“Get. Out.” Her calm voice didn’t fool anyone.

So hard was her trembling, Odie felt it in the soles of his feet. Nothing good could come of this confrontation. No one ordered Jerahmeel to do anything and survived.

Jerahmeel’s fingertips glowed and smoked. “You command me?” he warned.

She jerked an arm toward Barnaby’s curled form. “Look what you did. Yes, I command you. Get out.”

While she didn’t yell, her voice had amplified. Somehow Odie could hear her words inside of his head. Odd vibrations radiated out from her, like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“No one tells me what to do.” Jerahmeel seethed.

“Do you really want a chance for us to be together?”

The double echo of her voice pierced Odie’s ears and he winced.
What the hell?

Jerahmeel patted his curls. “Of course,
belle
.”

“Then get out.” Her voice reverberated out of her body and drilled into Odie’s mind.

“
Impossible
.”

The Lord Most Vile pointed, and embers flared to flame on the carpet near Barnaby. This standoff was about to go south in a hurry. Odie had to end the confrontation without anyone being destroyed and help his old friend.

“My lord, the lady is overwrought.” Odie used as soothing a voice as he could stomach. “Perhaps you should give her some time to consider the efforts you’ve made on her behalf. You know how women are,
non
? Hardheaded. They don’t like to be told anything but instead want to draw their own conclusions.”

Jerahmeel stepped back with a bizarre expression that might have passed as an attempt to look seductive. It was all Odie could do to resist shoving Ruth out of the room to get her away from this disgusting creature. At least Jerahmeel’s fingertips had stopped smoking.

“Too true. Women are capricious and weak-minded, unable to see past what’s in front of them. I will take your advice this one time.”

When Ruth opened her mouth, Odie jabbed her hard in the ribs, and air whooshed from her lungs. For a moment, she was speechless. Jerahmeel needed to leave, for all their sakes.

Jerahmeel dropped into a courtly bow with a flourish. “
Mademoiselle
, I bid you
adieu
for this evening. I will call upon you when you’ve regained your senses. You will come to me of your own free accord.”

Before Ruth could launch into a diatribe that might compel Jerahmeel to immolate the entire hotel, her boss simply disappeared. She stared, slack-jawed, as the residual smoke dissipated.

Odie shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. “Um,
chère
? Barnaby. He’s almost on fire.”

“Holy hell.”

She batted out the small flames with her bare hands. Although the blisters and open wounds would heal quickly, the burns still hurt. While she ministered to a gasping Barnaby, Odie thumbed on his cell phone and called 911 before opening the windows and fanning away the worst of the smoke.

The heavy silence was broken only by Barnaby’s pained wheezes.

Odie was helpless again. He could do nothing for his friend. Barnaby’s fate was in the hands of the medical personnel or God, if there was such a being. Just like a replay of his dear Ada’s death, where he watched through a window as the lady caregiver kissed his dying daughter’s cheeks. Ada’s fear and pain—Odie should have been the one to comfort his child. But it made no difference if Odie’d been there; he couldn’t have stopped her death. Just as he could not stop Barnaby’s pain.

What the hell had Jerahmeel done to Barnaby? Whatever it was, although the man appeared critically injured, there were no visible wounds.

Medical personnel arrived and placed Barnaby on a stretcher. With oxygen running into his nose and IVs dangling from both arms, the old man’s frame disappeared beneath the wires and lines. As quickly as they had come, the emergency personnel whisked Barnaby away.

With a quiet word and a palmed large bill, Odie encouraged the hotel’s night manager hovering at the door to withdraw and remove concerned onlookers.

In the suite, silence descended. No movement, no voices. Nothing. Only a residual odor of burnt carpet and sulfur, acrid reminders of the consequences of contemplating hope.

Ruth knelt on the floor. For an instant, her eyes were a complete black. Not just the irises, which was normal for an Indebted, but totally black throughout. As the vibrations pouring off her body reduced, she blinked back to hazel and then stared into space.

“
Chère
?” He broke the deathly quiet atmosphere.

While he respected Ruth’s desire to lay low, Odie’s anger at this attack only served to fuel his determination to make his ultimate plan work.

Vendetta
echoed louder and louder in his mind.

The image of his own two dark-haired daughters dying superimposed itself on the woman sitting before him.

“Ruth?”

He crouched behind her, wrapped his arm around her upper chest, and pulled her flush against him, holding her tightly. Her stiff frame eventually relaxed to the point where he appreciated how right it felt to have her in his arms. How good she would feel in his embrace for years to come.

Damn it. Not years. Where had that thought come from?

An evening or two of that curvy body beneath his, exploring the possibilities of sex with a being who possessed endless stamina. But no commitment. That was his goal, correct?

Besides, all of his past commitments had long since turned to dust. And if he coerced Ruth to help with his plan, he would be risking her life.

Therefore, attachments made no sense. Right?

Perhaps he’d begun to consider her as more than a luscious sexual interlude.

No. Not possible.

Unable to stop himself, he brushed his lips over the top of her head, inhaling lavender and mint in the silky strands.

When he stood up, she took his offered hand, got to her feet, and turned toward him. The haunted, empty expression on her sculpted features drove a spike of fear into his gut. She glanced around the room, to him, and back to the room again, like a soul searching for a home. Flickers of panic swirled in those golden-speckled depths and short gasps made her shoulders heave. He needed her to focus on something else before she lost her composure altogether.

He touched her arm. “We should clean up and check out of the hotel.”

“Why?” That barely audible voice shook him more than her screams.

“It’s not wise to leave any personal items here. I imagine neither you nor Barnaby wish to return to this hotel room after all that has happened.”

She remained rooted in place, her gaze distant, looking through him. “No. Of course not.”

“So let’s pack up Barnaby’s and your belongings. Unless you want me to take care of it so you can go immediately to the hospital?”

“No, we can be quick about it.” Like a sleepwalker awakening, she tilted her face up to him and blinked. “Of course. We can be quick. We can be Indebted-quick.”

They raced through the suite, stuffing items into suitcases. With their preternatural speed, they had set the room to rights within five minutes, even hiding the fire spot beneath another elegant throw rug and opening all of the windows. Odie would pay the manager generously for the burn on the carpet and blame it on candles and carelessness. Problem solved. Fewer questions later.

He took all the bags down and called for the valet to bring his car around. The tour with his old friend this afternoon seemed like a million years ago.

As Odie exited the hotel, the vision of Ruth standing on the sidewalk, alone, head bowed, her hands wrapped around her upper arms, hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. At least the blank expression had been replaced by sharp concern. Beneath the marquis lights, tears glinted in her eyes. Her full lips quivered in a frown until she clenched her jaw.

Not only did he need to focus on this woman’s well-being, but he needed to help his friend. And how about the plan to destroy Jerahmeel? With his appearances lately, Jerahmeel's strength would be at a nadir. Odie had too much to do, too many proverbial plates to balance. Could he keep them all spinning without letting any crash to the ground? Had he become so heartless that he considered Ruth to be just another plate?

Absolutely not.

In this moment of crystal clarity, he came to a decision. Ruth took priority over everything else. “All checked out. Let’s go see to Barnaby.”

After a ride across town in silence, the hustle of University Hospital came as a welcome distraction to Ruth. She and Odie checked in at the front desk of the ER, and a staff member escorted them to Barnaby’s room. Ruth had been in every kind of hospital since the late 1800s, but this new facility impressed her. Every piece of equipment in this ER sparkled, and the monitors calmly beeped Barnaby’s pulse and oxygen levels. A petite nurse made notes on a handheld computer.

Time had finally outpaced Ruth’s skills. Because of the increased difficulty of hiding her identity, she hadn’t used her nursing degree for twenty years. Of course, she could learn to operate the computerized machines, and surely the gentle art of nursing had not changed, but so much else had evolved. But if she were human? She’d be right here, fighting for the lives of her patients and giving them comfort as they suffered.

God, how she wanted to be human.

Anything but a killer.

Ruth turned back to her beloved mentor. His respirations were calm. On the monitor, his blood oxygen levels read normal, although he needed six liters of oxygen to sustain him at those levels. Not good.

“How is he doing?” she asked the nurse.

“Better, though we’re not sure what happened. I’ll let the doctor talk with you.”

The woman darted out of the room and a few minutes later, a middle-aged physician with a gaggle of interns and medical students filed in. Ruth could tell which kids were at which level of training based on the degree of fear, uncertainty, and fatigue, not to mention the length of their bright white coats. Some things never changed.

“Are you his family?” The attending physician extended a firm handshake.

“Yes, I’m his caregiver. And this is his friend. We’re the closest people to family he has.”

The doctor crossed his arms. “Mr. Emerson has sustained damage to his heart, but I’m not certain what caused it. It’s almost like he has been burned from the inside out, enough to injure a portion of his heart.”

Damn Jerahmeel and his fingers of fire.

Odie’s warm hand on her back centered her like an anchor in a rising storm.

“His heart is filling up with fluid because of the damage. But otherwise, we can see nothing else wrong with him. And no evidence of external injury. No medications that would cause this pattern. Do you know if he was doing anything ... odd before he got sick?”

“No,” she lied. “Everything was completely normal. He just collapsed.”

It was a grossly truncated version of the incident, leaving out the part where the manifestation of Satan tried to destroy Barnaby to claim Ruth all for himself. But the doctor didn’t need that kind of detail to deliver medical care.

The white-coated crowd studiously tapped notes on electronic tablets.

Ruth forced a polite smile. “Will he recover?”

The lines around the doctor’s mouth tightened, and he studied the monitor. She had seen physicians with that expression in the past, knew what it meant. A deep, sinking feeling threatened to consume her.

“It’s too early to say; he’s critically ill. I’d like to admit him to the cardiac ICU. They will do further testing and monitor him carefully. Ah, may I ask another question?”

She nodded, but the motion took effort.

“We like to make sure we have all the information relevant to each patient’s stay. Does Mr. Emerson have a living will or a medical power of attorney?”

Ruth’s heart flopped, but she clutched her iron will around her like a suit of armor. She understood why the doctor asked this question, and no, it was not for completeness. Not in this situation. They wanted those bases covered because they anticipated acting on the living will information. Even though she knew the drill, it didn’t lessen the shock.

“I don’t think he has a living will, but to the best of my knowledge, I don’t believe he’d want to live on life support, if it came down to that. He’s never put his thoughts in writing. That’s my impression.”

When she gripped the back of the vinyl chair, Odie’s hand slid over hers and squeezed. Blast it, she would not crave reassurance from him. She was stronger than that.

“Very good. They’ll move him to the ICU in an hour or so. Would you like anything? Water or juice perhaps?”

“No, thank you, that’s very kind.”

In a rustle of starched polyester, the group shuffled out of Barnaby’s room. She pulled up a chair next to her friend. Odie rested his hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed for a brief moment.

What a change. A few hours ago, she was yelling at him for trying to coopt her into his scheme. Now he’d become considerate and supportive. And maybe his change in character was another ploy to get her on board with the scheme. She could make herself crazy second-guessing his motives.

At some point, she needed to take that leap and trust a man again. Maybe Odie was as good an opportunity as any. Not all men were like her husband.

Barnaby cracked open an eye and turned his head toward Ruth. She gently slid her palm beneath her boss’s frail hand.

“Are they gone?” His thin voice rattled.

“Were you playing possum?”

“Did you know that one of those people who wasn’t yet a doctor wanted to check up my bum! It’s clear that’s not where the problem is.” He pursed his lips and slowly exhaled.