Heroes of Falledge Book One: Black Hellebore (5 page)

"Who... what... where... Am I dead?" he asked. He had almost expected his voice to sound different in the afterlife. Which it did. His voice had always been deep, but now it had an almost booming quality to it. Although he had spoken the words, they sounded as if he had shouted.

She chuckled. Despite her appearance -- her purple hair spiked up in a Mohawk with it long in the back, huge dangling feather earrings in her ears, glitter and a faint floral tattoo near her left eye -- her laugh sounded like a young child's, innocent and pure. Whoever she was, she looked like a witch.

"No, you aren't dead." She smiled, her sky blue eyes lightening until they darkened a second later. "Why? Did you want to die?" she asked anxiously as she wrung her hands.

"No!" Then he remembered: he
had
wanted to die. He had been ready to see Justina. A wave of disappointment washed over him.

Why hadn't he died?

He sat up, expecting to wince in pain, but didn't. The lady -- chick seemed more fitting -- moved toward the foot of the bed to give him space.

Nicholas wasn't wearing a shirt anymore. Or his coat. A large white bandage wrapped around his torso. He struggled to remove it.

The chick walked over to a table and seized scissors, which she used to cut the bandage for him.

The wound -- it wasn't there. There wasn't even a scar.

He pressed his hands to where it had been. The comforter and sheet fell forward, and he was relieved to see he still wore his jeans although they stank of sweat and pus and blood, the only indication he wasn't losing his mind.

"What's going on?" he growled, his voice too deep.

"I wanted to help you," she said brightly, her youthful-sounding voice at odds with her appearance.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"Oh, you know me." She waved her hand. "Hungry?"

He furrowed his brows. He had never seen her before, he was sure of it. How could he have forgotten someone who looked like that?

She bounded out of the room, practically skipping, and returned a moment later with three ham-and-cheese sandwiches.

The sight of the simple sandwiches stirred his hunger. He tore into them, eating them all in less than two minutes. Belatedly, he realized one might have been for her. "Sorry," he mumbled, and swallowed the last bite.

She sat back down on the bed. "You don't remember me, do you? That's okay. I guess I shouldn't expect you to." She clapped her hands, and her appearance changed. She grew shorter, her shoulders hunched over, and her hair transformed, turning whiter...

"The old woman asking for money?" he blurted. This all had to be a dream. Or nightmare. His eyes must not be focusing right. He blinked several times, but when he looked again, she was still the old woman.

"Yes!" She snapped her fingers and turned back into the chick. She smiled at him and winked. "Guess I should introduce myself. I'm Gavina. I'm a witch."

"Gavina?" Maybe this all was a hallucination and he was in a hospital in some sort of a coma or something. This was way too bizarre to be reality.

She nodded emphatically. "It means 'White Hawk.'" Her smile dipped a little, and she hung her head. "Okay, okay, I wasn't born Gavina, but Jane is such an awful, plain name. It doesn't fit a witch at all."

He snorted. "Listen, Gavina..."

"Yes?" She returned the scissors to the table. All kinds of vials filled with different liquids caught his gaze: some clear, some cloudy, a few bubbling like crazy.

"Did I die?" he asked.

"Yes," she said sadly before rushing to add, "but only for a second. Okay, more like five minutes, but it's not like it's easy to bring someone back from the dead. And I was able to save you. Although, really, you never would have died in the first place if you had kept that metal shard in your wound. I mean, seriously, what were you--"

"How did you know I needed to be saved? Were you following me?" As grateful as he was to still be alive, he didn't like the idea of being watched by some crazy purple-haired chick who called herself a witch.

"Not exactly." Gavina wrung her hands again. "You can't be mad. If it weren't for me, you would still be dead. I was... scrying to check on you."

"What did you do to me?" He glanced down at his abdomen. Mentally, he still saw his gaping wound, the blood rushing out, he remembered his breathing getting heavy until it hurt too much, and then... nothing.

"I saved you. With my magic."

"Magic?" he croaked.

"I'm a witch, remember?" She smiled brightly.

Nicholas groaned and brought his hand to his forehead. He must have hit his head or something. People couldn't change their appearance. And they certainly couldn't bring people back from the dead. The sooner he got away from the nut job, the better.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" she demanded, her hands on her slim hips, her plump lips in full pout formation.

"Thanks," he muttered. "I have to get going." He swung his legs around so he could stand up.

She blocked him. "No. Not until I tell you everything." Gavina lifted his legs and dropped them back onto the bed. Although she looked frail, she had a lot more strength than he expected.

"Fine," he exhaled.

"Good." Gavina clapped her hands. "I mean, aren't you curious to know what scrying is?"

"Sure," he said, more to placate her than out of curiosity.

"I used a mirror to watch you."

"Why?" He still didn't like the idea of this witch watching him.

"Because you're a good guy. You gave me money so I could buy my favorite meal from McDonalds."

"Seriously? That's why you needed the $5.41? For fries and a burger?"

"A chicken sandwich, actually." She closed her eyes and licked her lips.

"I can't believe this. I'm outta here." He prepared to get up again.

"No!" She blocked him. Her eyes were flashing, her lips drawn into another pout.

"Why not?" Nicholas felt perfectly fine. He could easily move her out of the way, but he refrained.

"I have to know what happened," she said, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

Nicholas snorted again. "Can't you scry or whatever it is that you do?" He wasn't about to be stuck here, wherever here was, any longer than
he
wanted to be. She had no say in the matter. His time here was rapidly drawing to an end.

She picked up an empty, small silver bowl off the nightstand. The scent of different spices and flowers flowed from it. "I tried. I knew something bad would happen, but I didn't know what. Or when."

"Wait. You knew about the building and the liquid? What the hell was that?" He wondered how the police and rescue people were going to be able to clean up the mess that guy had made. What had he been doing in the lab in the first place? What had he dropped into those huge vats?

Wonder if he intended to knock over the tubs, although I'm sure he didn't mean to kill himself in the process.

"No, I didn't know any of the specifics. I only had this vibe that something bad was going to--"

"Vibe?" She was starting to sound like some kind of tripped-out hippie rather than a witch. "Listen, you don't need to hear about it from me. I'm sure the reporters are all over it. It's probably on every news station. And they probably know more about it than I do. I don't even know what that goo is."

"But--"

"I appreciate all you did for me." Nicholas stood. Not a single part of his body was sore. His arms felt stronger than ever. He felt ready to run a marathon. Had to give her credit, whatever she had done to him had been incredible.

Although he doubted her assertion that he had died. Magic wasn't real. If he had died, he just knew he would have seen Justina.

"But you're one of the good guys. You have to help me. I know I'm supposed to
do
something, but I don't know what." She reached out toward his shoulders to stop him, but snapped her hands back at the last second, as if getting too close to him burned her. Gavina avoided eye contact.

He was done. She was either lying or confused. Either way, she was messed up. "Tell me, if I had blown the old lady off like I had wanted to, would you still think I'm one of the good guys?"

"No..." The desperation in her face gave way to despair.

"So, because I decided on a whim to give you some money, you decided to spy on me--"

"
Scry
, not spy," she said, her voice growing testy for the first time, her foot tapping a loud, swift beat on the wooden floor.

"You decided to
spy
on me. Did you think I would have anything to do with that black cloud of badness you saw? Or do you just scry those you think are good looking?"

"I don't think you're good looking." Her cheeks stained bright pink.

"Thanks for saving me, but I'm done here." He stomped over to the door and turned around to add, "And I'll appreciate some privacy from now on."

Nicholas waited for her to nod before leaving. He threw open the front door and stepped onto the porch, before going back inside.

She was waiting directly in front of him, a scowl on her face, her arms crossed. "What now?"

"Which way to my bike?" he asked sheepishly.

Gavina jerked her thumb to the left.

He dipped his head in thanks when he heard her say something too faintly for him to understand the words. "What did you say?"

She narrowed her sky blue eyes. "I prefer blonds."

Nicholas snorted but couldn't stop from grinning. "Really? I pictured you with some black-haired tattooed goth."

Gavina sighed. "I'm starting to regret saving you."

Guilt rushed over him, and he hung his head. He rubbed a hand over his prickly chin, then through his hair. Normally he gelled his hair, but it was soft now, without any stickiness. "I'm being an ass."

She nodded vigorously. "I should have expected it, though. I don't normally tell people I'm a witch right off the bat."

He snorted at her word choice.

Gavina giggled and sighed again. "I'm sorry I interfered. You did want to die, didn't you? That's why you removed the metal plug. I'm so stupid! My nana always told me to leave things well enough alone, but I never listened to her. I should have--"

"Hey, things aren't well when someone's dying, right?" Nicholas failed to mention the fact he
had
wanted death in that particular moment.

"Don't," she said, her voice bitter as she stared at her laced-up black boots. "You've been wanting to go for a while now, so just go."

"Thanks again for saving me," he offered in way of a peace offering. She remained as still as a statue. Feeling like a colossal jerk, he had no choice but to leave.

Chapter Eight

Julianna pulled up to the crime scene. Fielding Labs was in a gray area, jurisdiction-wise. She was the first to show up. No one from Lightmeadow was there yet.

She pulled on gloves and climbed out of her car. Her stomach twisted as she saw an abandoned motorcycle. It looked like Nick's, but she didn't approach it, not wanting to know for certain who the owner was. The laboratory lay completely dismantled, the grass beneath it withered and dead. Some kind of major calamity, although she figured it wasn't the result of an accident.

A light pink-colored cloud hovered where the building had been. It matched the color of theliquid on the grass. She walked over and bent down, ready to collect a sample when someone said:

"I would step back if I were you."

She straightened and tucked the empty collection tube into her pocket. "Hello, Doctor Richards. Did you just get here?"

"As soon as I was notified." The president of the laboratory waved her toward him, a good five feet away from the scene.

"Any idea what happened?"

Dr. Richards raised his eyebrows. Although in his late fifties, he was still good-looking, in a polished, distinguished kind of way. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Well, if you would allow me to investigate..."

"Wait till it dissipates."

"Doctor Richards, what is it?" She turned to face the wreckage.

He hesitated. "It's... it's complicated."

"You know you'll have to explain it to someone."

"I know, but I can assure you, we had proper safety measures and followed the regulations to the letter. This was no accident."

"Sabotage? Any idea who would want to do something like this?"

Again he hesitated. "I don't want to say anything because I don't know for certain."

"Doctor Richards, you aren't being the most cooperative."

"My building is destroyed. I'm not exactly in a cooperative mood," he growled. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. His clothes were wrinkled and didn't match. Must have been woken up. It was still early, but she had been awake already when the call came in. She hadn't slept in late in years.

"I'll give you a few..." She stepped away from him and glanced toward the road. Only her car and the doctor's were there. As she wondered what was taking the others so long, she spied something black near the next building. Curious, she wandered over and lifted it. A bloody shirt. And a bloody trench coat. A familiar-looking trench coat. Nick's.

She covered her mouth. Could Nick have caused the incident? Why? What could he have gained from doing this?

Falledge was becoming a more dangerous town in recent years, despite her best efforts to clean it up. Lightmeadow's mob did a lot of poaching around lately. If she had to guess, the mob played a role in the lab mess. Could Nick be tangled with them?

People changed over the years. She knew that. She'd changed a lot in the span of one night, when her sister was discovered dead. Teenage Nick lived a reckless and courageous life, always willing to try or do anything, but he wouldn't have been stupid enough to do something so dangerous.

Surely he had changed, though, and she no longer knew him. He might well be capable of doing anything now.

Yet, she had a hunch he wasn't the culprit. Yes, he might be involved, but he hadn't destroyed the lab. At least she hoped he hadn't.

Her hunches were almost never wrong and contributed to her being such a good deputy. She knew how illegal this was, but she bundled up his clothes and tossed them onto the back seat of her car. Sheriff Higgins of Falledge pulled up, and the sheriff of Lightmeadow approached from the opposite direction as she slammed her door shut.