Lover Avenged (14 page)

What she needed to concentrate on was getting out of her uniform and at least nominally improving her appearance.

With the overday staff funneling in and those who had been on during the night leaving, she changed from her uniform into the skirt and sweater she’d brought with her-

She’d forgotten her shoes.

Great. White crepe soles were so sexy.

“What’s wrong?” Catya said.

She turned around. “Any chance these two white boats on my feet don’t totally ruin this outfit?”

“Er…honestly? They’re not that bad.”

“You so don’t lie well.”

“I gave it a shot.”

Ehlena packed her uniform into her bag, redid her hair, and checked the makeup situation. Of course, she’d forgotten her eyeliner and mascara as well, so the cavalry was out of horses on that front, so to speak.

“I’m glad you’re going,” Catya said as she erased the night roster from the whiteboard.

“Considering you’re my boss, that makes me nervous. I’d rather have you happy to see me coming into the clinic.”

“No, it’s not about work. I’m glad you’re going out tonight.”

Ehlena frowned and looked around. By some miracle, they were alone. “Who says I’m going anywhere but home?”

“A female going home doesn’t change out of her uniform here. And she doesn’t worry about how her footwear goes with her skirt. I’ll spare you the who-is-he.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Unless you want to volunteer?”

Ehlena laughed out loud. “No, I’d rather keep it private. But if it goes anywhere…I’ll spill.”

“And I’ll keep you to that.” Catya went over to her locker and just stared at it.

“You okay?” Ehlena said.

“I hate this damn war. I hate having the dead come in here, and seeing the pain they went through on their faces.” Catya opened the locker and got busy getting her parka out. “Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer.”

Ehlena went over and put her hand on the female’s shoulder. “I know just how you feel.”

There was a moment between them as their eyes clung to each other’s. And then Catya cleared her throat.

“Right, off you go. Your male awaits.”

“He’s picking me up here.”

“Ohhh, maybe I’ll just hang around and have a cigarette outside.”

“You don’t smoke.”

“Drat, foiled again.”

On her way to the exit, Ehlena checked in at the registration desk to make sure there was nothing else she needed to do with the handoff to the new shift. Satisfied everything was in order, she went through the doors and up the stairs until she was finally free of the clinic.

The night was out of the cool zip code and into chill city, the air smelling blue to her, if the color did indeed have a scent: There was just something so fresh and icy and clear as she breathed deep and exhaled in soft clouds. With each inhale, she felt as if she were taking the sapphire sprawl of the heavens above into her lungs and that the stars were sparks skipping through her body.

As the last of the nurses departed, dematerializing or driving off, depending on what they had planned, she said good-bye to the stragglers. Then Catya came and went.

Ehlena stamped her feet and checked her watch. The male was ten minutes late. No big deal.

Leaning back against the aluminum siding, she felt her blood sing in her veins, an odd freedom swelling in her chest as she thought about going out somewhere with a male on her own-

Blood. Veins.

Rehvenge hadn’t had his arm treated.

The thought slammed into her head and lingered like the echo of a big noise. He hadn’t dealt with that arm. There had been nothing in the record about the infection, and Havers was as scrupulous about his notes as he was about the staff uniforms and the cleanliness of the patient rooms and the organization of the supply closets.

When she’d come back from the pharmacy with the drugs, Rehvenge had had his shirt on and done up at the cuffs, but she’d assumed that was because the examination had been finished. Now she was willing to bet he’d put it on right after she’d finished taking the blood.

Except…it was none of her business, was it. Rehvenge was an adult male well within his rights to make poor decisions about his health. Just like that drug overdose who had barely survived the night, and just like the any number of patients who nodded a lot when the doctor was in front of them, but who went home and were noncompliant about their prescriptions or their aftercare.

There was nothing she could do to save someone who didn’t want to be rescued. Nothing. And that was among the biggest tragedies in her work. All she could do was present options and consequences and hope the patient chose wisely.

A breeze rolled in, shooting right up her skirt and making her envy Rehvenge’s fur coat. Leaning out from the side of the clinic, she tried to see down the drive, looking for headlights.

Ten minutes later, she checked her watch again.

And ten minutes after that, she lifted her wrist once more.

She’d been stood up.

It wasn’t a surprise. The date had been so hastily thrown together, and they didn’t really know each other, did they.

As another cold breeze tackled her, she took out her cell phone and texted: Hi, Stephan-sorry to have missed you tonight. Maybe some other time. E.

She put her phone back in her pocket and dematerialized home. Instead of going right in, she burrowed into her cloth coat and paced up and back on the cracked sidewalk that ran down the side of the house to the rear door. As the frigid wind kicked up again, a blast hit her face.

Her eyes stung.

Turning her back to the gust, wisps of her hair feathered forward as if they were trying to flee the chill, and she shivered.

Great. Now when her vision got watery, she didn’t have the excuse of the stiff breeze.

God, was she crying? Over what could just be some misunderstanding? With a guy she barely knew? Why did it matter so much to her?

Ah, but it wasn’t him at all. The problem was her. She hated that she was where she had been when she’d left the house: alone.

Trying to get a grip, literally, she reached out for the handle of the back door, but couldn’t bring herself to go in. The image of that crappy, too-ordered kitchen, and the remembered sound of those creaky stairs going to the cellar, and the dusty, papery smell of her father’s room were as familiar as her reflection in any mirror. Tonight it was all too clear, a brilliant flashlight nailing her in both eyes, a roaring sound in her ears, an overwhelming stench bombarding her nose.

She dropped her arm. The date had been a get-out-of-jail-free card. A raft off the island. A hand reached over the cliff she was hanging off of.

The desperation snapped her into focus like nothing else could. She had no business going out with anyone if that was her attitude. It wasn’t fair to the guy or healthy for her. When Stephan hit her up again, if he did, she was just going to say she was too busy-

“Ehlena? You okay?”

Ehlena jumped back from the door that had evidently just opened wide. “Lusie! Sorry, just…just thinking too much. How’s Father doing?”

“Fine, honestly fine. He’s sleeping again now.”

Lusie stepped out of the house and closed off the escaping heat from the kitchen. After two years, she was an achingly familiar figure, her boho clothes and her long salt-and-pepper hair comforting. As usual, she had her medicine bag in one hand and her big purse hanging off her opposite shoulder. Inside the medicine bag there was a standard-issue blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and some low-level medications-all of which Ehlena had seen put to use. Inside the purse there was the New York Times crossword puzzle, some Wrigley’s spearmint gum she liked to chew, a wallet, and the peach lipstick she slipped across her lips on a regular basis. Ehlena knew about the crossword puzzle because Lusie and her dad did them together, the gum because of the wrappers that went into the trash, and the lipstick was self-evident. She was guessing on the wallet.

“How are you?” Lusie waited, her gray eyes clear and focused. “You’re back a little early.”

“He stood me up.”

The way Lusie’s hand landed on Ehlena’s shoulder was what made the female a great nurse: With one touch she conveyed comfort and warmth and empathy, all of which worked to reduce blood pressure and heart rate and agitation.

All of which helped the mind unscramble.

“I’m sorry,” Lusie said.

“Oh, no, it’s better this way. I mean, I’m looking for too much.”

“Really? You sounded pretty levelheaded to me when you told me about it. You were just going for coffee-”

For some reason she spoke the truth: “Nope. I was looking for a way out. Which won’t ever happen, because I will never leave him.” Ehlena shook her head. “Anyway, thank you so much for coming-”

“It doesn’t have to be an either-or situation. Your father and you-”

“I really appreciate your coming early tonight. It was good of you.”

Lusie smiled in the way Catya had earlier in the evening, tightly, sadly. “Okay, I’ll drop it, but I’m right on this. You can have a relationship and still be a good daughter to your father.” Lusie glanced over at the door. “Listen, you’re going to have to watch that sore on his leg. The one he did on that nail? I put a new dressing on, but I’m worried about it. I think it’s getting infected.”

“I will, and thank you.”

After Lusie dematerialized, Ehlena went into the kitchen, locked the door and bolted it, and headed down to the basement.

In his room, her father was asleep in his huge Victorian bed, the massive carved headboard like the framing arch of a tomb. His head was against a stack of white silk pillows, and the bloodred velvet duvet was folded precisely halfway down his chest.

He looked like a king in repose.

When the mental illness had really grabbed hold of him, his hair and beard had gone white, causing Ehlena to worry that the end-of-life changes were going to start in on him. But after fifty years, he still looked the same, his face unwrinkled, his hands strong and steady.

It was so hard. She couldn’t imagine life without him. And she couldn’t imagine having a life with him.

Ehlena closed his door partway and went into her own room, where she showered and changed and stretched out on her bed. All she had was a twin with no headboard, one pillow, and cotton sheets, but she didn’t care about the luxury stuff. She needed a place to lay her tired bones each day and that was it.

Usually she read a little before falling asleep, but not today. She just didn’t have the energy. Reaching to the side, she turned off the lamp, crossed her feet at the ankles, and laid her arms out straight.

With a smile, she realized she and her father slept in exactly the same position, didn’t they.

In the dark, she thought about Lusie and the way she followed through about her father’s cut. Good nursing was about being concerned for the welfare of patients, even after they left. It was about coaching family members as to what follow-up care was needed, and being a resource.

It wasn’t the kind of job you just dumped because your shift was over.

She turned the lamp back on with a click.

Getting up, she went over to the desktop she’d gotten for free from the clinic when the IT systems had been upgraded. The Internet was slow to connect, as always, but eventually she was able to access the clinic’s medical files database.

She signed in with her password, performed one search…then another. The first was a compulsion, the second a curiosity.

Saving them both, she shut down the laptop and picked up her phone.

At the razor’s edge of dawn, just before the light began to gather in the eastern sky, Wrath took form in the dense woods at the northern side of the Brotherhood’s mountain. No one had showed back at Hunter-bred, and the day’s imminent rays had forced him to leave.

Small sticks cracked loudly under his shitkickers, the thin pine fingers brittle in the cold. There was not yet snow to muffle the sounds, but he could smell it in the air, feel that frosty bite deep in his sinuses.

The hidden entrance to the Black Dagger Brotherhood’s sanctum sanctorum was at the ass end of a cave, far in the back. His hands located the trigger on the stone door by feel, and the heavy portal slid behind the rock wall. Stepping onto smooth black marble pavers, he followed them forward as the door closed behind him.

At his will, torches flamed up on either side of him, extending far, far, far into the distance and illuminating the massive iron gates that had been installed in the late eighteenth century, when the Brotherhood had turned this cave into the Tomb.

As he got closer, the gate’s thick slats seemed to his blurry vision to be a lineup of armed sentries, the flickering flames animating what did not in fact move. With his mind, he parted the two halves and continued on, down a long hall fitted from floor to forty-foot ceiling with shelving.

Lesser jars of all types and kinds were stacked side by side, a display that marked generations of kills made by the Brotherhood. The oldest jars were nothing but crude, hand-thrown vases that had been brought over from the Old Country. With each yard farther, the vessels grew more modern, until you got to the next set of gates and found mass-produced shit made in China and sold at Target.

There wasn’t a lot of space left on the shelves and he was depressed by that. He had helped build with his own hands this repository of the enemy’s dead, along with Darius and Tohrment and Vishous, the bunch of them laboring for a month straight, working during the day, sleeping on the marble pavers. He had been the one to decide how far down into the earth to go, and he had extended the shelving corridor yards and yards past what he had thought was needed. When he and his brothers had finished erecting everything, and had stacked the older jars, he’d been convinced that they wouldn’t need so much storage space. Surely by the time they had filled even three-quarters of this, the war would be over.