Immortal Flame (4 page)

The bonehead was probably imagining her body beneath the white coat and scrubs. Peter stepped in front of Allie again, clenching his jaw as he shielded her from Dante's roving eye.

“Are you going to get me out of here, Dante?” Peter slapped him on the arm, hard, refocusing his friend's attention.

“Sure, bro. But I think you need different clothes.” Dante flipped up the hem of the pastel green hospital gown before Peter snatched the fabric away. “What've you got under there, my man?” Dante waggled his brows in Allie's direction and grinned at Peter.

Peter's hand curled into a fist. No one would win if he and Dante got into an epic fight, but Peter would do it to get the idiot away from her.

Allison crossed her arms, jaw set, standing toe to toe with both men as they towered over her. Her voice could have cut ice. “Excuse me, this patient should not leave tonight. After that bad of a car wreck, he needs to stay for further observation.”

One part of him appreciated her determination. The other part cringed at such foolishness. Allie had no idea who—or rather, what—she was dealing with. If she'd known, she wouldn't have been giving orders. Dante's glacier-blue eyes darkened to black in quick, lethal anger. No one said no to Dante, and he was definitely not someone to cross. Peter had to remove him, and fast.

“Hey, why don't you get me some clothes,
my brother
?” he ground out.

Undistracted, Dante narrowed his eyes as he loomed over Allie. “He's leaving.” He leaned closer and flexed his pecs beneath the fine, tailored silk, his usual routine to intimidate humans.

She stood her ground but planted her hands in the coat pockets once again. Peter's primal urge to shield her flared again. He couldn't think straight.

Protect
.

He hovered next to the doctor's shoulder, ready to interfere if Dante did something stupid.

Allie took a deep breath. “Here's the deal. Our policy is to observe anyone who has had a severe head injury.” At Dante's scowl, her voice rose a notch, her back ramrod straight. “We need to make sure there are no changes in the brain, like swelling.”

Dante oozed fury, an emotion totally inappropriate for the situation, but the doctor wouldn't understand that fact. How was she standing there absorbing that much anger? Most humans crumpled beneath the force of his friend's inhumanly augmented charisma and rage.

“If the patient is deemed able to make his own decisions”—Allie turned to Peter—“and, in my opinion, is able to think clearly”—she glared at Dante—“then the patient can sign out of the hospital AMA, or against medical advice.”

Dante backed off a step as his expression shifted from irritation to boyish charm. The air in the room cooled several degrees. Peter didn't buy the sweet-as-pie act for a second.

“Well, then, I'll get some clothes and you can sign papers. We're outta here.” Air whooshed as Dante exited the room.

Allie's fair skin was much too pale against the dark circles beneath her eyes. Peter would bet she'd held that stiff stance by sheer will. A few pieces of wavy, brown hair curled near her cheeks, begging him to brush back those tendrils. Silence stretched between them.

“Well.” He cleared his throat. “Is there some paperwork for me to fill out?”

“Sure is, but first I'd like to know what the hell happened in here earlier.”

“In terms of … ?”

“All of it. You recovered way too fast.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Peter followed the movement. He couldn't stop staring. How sweet would that delicate skin taste?

Damn it all.
He dragged his gaze to meet hers.

“And what
was
that when I touched your arm?” Allie pressed her fingertips to her forehead. That gold-flecked, emerald stare rocked him to his core. “Who were all those people? All the deaths? They were horrible.”

Her words, like a bucket of cold water, brought him back to reality. Had she seen his actual kills? What
was
she? This could be disastrous.

“Please.” He reached out but checked himself as she flinched. He clenched his hand in midair. “You have to tell me what you saw. But not here.” He stepped closer until his breath fanned her light brown bangs. “I'll find you, and you will tell me.”

It wasn't a question. Fear, narrow suspicion, and then wide-eyed hope flickered across her face.

Dante burst into the room with a bundle of clothes in his arms. “Here you go, Peter. Change and we're good to go.”

Allie stepped around the men and exited the room.

Dante followed her movements with a wicked glint in his eyes.

Peter yanked on his clothes. “Come on, man, focus on getting us out of here without more questions being asked.”

Dante rubbed his lantern jaw. “There's something about that cute doctor. I'd like to do a physical on
her
one day.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled as he belted his jeans.

“What? You want her first?”

“Dammit. Just … let's get out of here.” They had to leave before the god of thunder did any real damage.

A whiff of sunshine and flowers tormented Peter when she returned.

Dante watched her like a lion stalking a baby impala. Peter's jaw was going to snap, he was grinding his teeth together so hard.

She held out the clipboard. “Here's your AMA form, Mr. Blackstone; if you would sign here. And here.” She pointed to Xs on the page. “By signing this form, you are saying that you acknowledge your personal choices are not what your physician recommends for best medical care. As a result, you could come to harm or even die.”

Dante, that moron, snorted. Peter glared him into silence.

Clearing her throat, she continued. “Of course, if you have any other problems—worsening headaches, abdominal pain, neck or back pain—please return here at any time.”

He signed the form with long, angled slashes that hadn't changed since the 1930s.

Dante raised his eyebrows and grinned behind the doctor's back.

“Thank you for the excellent care,” Peter said. He handed the clipboard back by way of a dismissal, and then he and Dante hurried for the exit. He stumbled as the urge to turn around teased him. Temptation won out, and he glanced over his shoulder.

As they were about to exit the emergency department, Marcie flagged them down. “Mr. Dante. You haven't signed the insurance form stating that you will be responsible for any fees beyond what your brother's insurance covers.”

Dante closed one eye as he dug in his designer pants pocket and threw a wad of large bills onto the desk. “This should cover his expenses. You have a lovely day, my dear.”

Marcie's jaw dropped as Dante winked.

The ER doors whooshed closed behind them.

Peter climbed into the passenger seat of Dante's black Hummer. The mountains above Grande Ronde Hospital blocked the setting sun, casting most of the town in early shadow. Dante's expression might have been difficult to read in the fading light, but Peter didn't mistake the waves of fury rocketing off him.

“
Vad i helvete
, Petey? What the hell? I gotta babysit you on every assignment?”

“Oh, like I planned the wreck? Seriously?” His bones ached, even despite being healed. Each throb along the staple line reminded him of the ER. Of Allie. Her calm, green eyes and her touch like cool water on his long-irritated nerves.

“Hello? Your head injury is worse than I thought.” Dante waved his hand in front of Peter's face. “You daydreaming about that doctor? Because I gave her your real cell phone number.”

Excitement warred with the practical reality that no human should ever know anything about his kind. That was a stupid move on Dante's part, no matter how much Peter wanted to see her again. After hundreds of years on this Earth, his unhuman friend knew better than to give away any information to an innocent. Dante was living proof that wisdom didn't always come with age.

“You're always supposed to give out fake numbers.” Peter rubbed his jaw. “Hell. Doesn't matter. If the hospital calls too much, I'll get a new number. And no, I was not daydreaming. Don't go bringing her into our mess. She's an innocent. The sooner I get out of this town and on to the Boise assignment, the better.”

“Job's changed. You're staying here.” Dante's hard face revealed no emotion.

“What?” A muscle tightened in Peter's chest. “I can't kill anyone in this town.”

“Doesn't matter what you want. Big Boss Jerahmeel must be getting hungry again. Anyway, the person isn't from this town.” Dante shot him a tight smirk. “You're to stay here and find the next assignment. They're giving you a hide-and-seek challenge. Unusual. Jerahmeel's got way too much time on his hands. Maybe he's getting tired of the rules he has to follow, tired of killing only criminals to feed his hunger. Who knows? Maybe the lady doctor is your next target,” he egged Peter on. “I'm only the messenger on this one.”

Dante reached into the back seat and pulled out Peter's duffel bag, wallet, and all identifying information that had been left behind in the totaled SUV. Dante might be dense, but at least his 300-year-old friend knew how to cover tracks.

“I assumed the police kept all of the stuff after an accident,” Peter said.

“That's what the police thought. There are advantages to our super speed, you know. Poor local constables never knew I took all their evidence.” He tapped Peter's wallet. “I also put enough in there for another vehicle, and there are nice hotels in town. Maybe you should take a bubble bath and relax. Go get a massage. You've had a long day.”

“Uh, you find anything else in the car?”

“Like this?” He dug under the front seat and handed over the knife. It was still flecked with dried blood from the accident. “Disgusting, bro. And you know you're not supposed to be able to take this off.”

Peter fished out a shirt from his duffel bag and cleaned off the knife. Relief spread like melting butter through his torso, and his muscles relaxed. “It was hard to remove, but I had to hide it from the innocents. I'm just glad that no one got hurt. Hell, it feels good to have it back. How sick is that?”

“Our weapons are a part of us, bro.”

“I know. Disgusting what it makes us do. What being Indebted mandates we do.”

“Tasty treats for Jerahmeel.” Dante flashed a grin that didn't reach his ice-blue eyes.

Jerahmeel, their boss. Satan in human form, who thrived off of the criminal blood when Peter and Dante or any others like them plunged their knives into the bodies of their kills. The twelve-inch, unnaturally sharp blades channeled criminals' insanity, wickedness, and cruelty—the highest form of evil power—directly into their overlord. Peter's entire, disgusting existence boiled down to the knife, a constant reminder of the sacrifice he'd made so many years ago, the last time he was truly human. The knife glowed green in his hands.

His big Swedish friend ran a meaty hand through rumpled blond hair. “The knife
wants
you. How'd you get it away?”

“Wasn't easy, but I needed to hide it more than I wanted it attached to me. For a while.”

“For a while? Who are you kidding? Our damned weapons complete us.”

Peter slid the knife into a new holster he pulled from the duffel bag. “For a guy in the same predicament as me, you're a real prick.”

“Bet you wish you could figure out how to keep it off forever.”

“You have no idea.”

He strapped the holster back onto his lower leg. Relief and completeness flowed over him. He both loved and hated how the knife felt back in its place. How screwed up could one man be?

A few students were walking home in the cool evening air as the Hummer's route took them by Eastern Oregon University. Peter studied each person on the street. Which one would be his next quarry? Would it be the tall guy with combat boots and a bold sneer? Or how about the young lady who darted glances in every direction as she hurried down the sidewalk? Thanks to his knife-guided radar for criminals, everyone was a suspect.

“When's all this going to stop?” Peter ran his hands over his head, wincing as he grazed the staples. That gash in his scalp was a doozy, even for him. It would take a day or so to completely heal. Maybe that was why he still had a sense of Allie. He detected her presence, as though she sat silently a few feet away.
Strange
. “You've done this longer than me, Dante. When's our last assignment going to be?”

“Dude, you know the rule. When you're an Indebted, you have to perform the Meaningful Kill to get out of the contract. Obviously neither of us has gotten it done yet.”

One of their contract stipulations restricted them to killing criminals, humans whose deeds were so despicable, they had amassed a tremendous amount of negative energy. That's what Jerahmeel wanted. Oh, he could consume the energy of innocent souls, of course, but that meal didn't satisfy him, didn't give the power he craved. Thus the rule.

Peter fingered the knife handle, reassuring himself that the blade rested securely in the sheath. “Why haven't we gotten the Meaningful Kill? What about the wars? Prowling the streets, tracking murderers? How are those not meaningful?”

“Yeah, doesn't make sense. I guess there's one out there that counts more. I guess the number's different for each of us, or maybe it's a sick game the big boss plays. But what're you in a hurry for? You've got the whole world at your feet, bro. Only the world doesn't know.”

Peter stared out the window. “You know why I want to be done. Same as you. What'd you leave behind for this job?”

Silence.

“Exactly.”

Dante pulled up to a hotel near the interstate. “Well, we're stuck in this life, such as it is. Might as well make the most of it.” He grinned. “I might stop off at one of those gentlemen's clubs on the way to Boise and make the most of my life tonight … and maybe someone else's. Why be here forever if you can't have some fun?”