Midnight Blue-Light Special (31 page)

Sarah is a sweet, thoughtful, empathic person. She didn’t start out that way. And there was no way of knowing whether Grandma had managed to get all the little mental land mines out of Sarah’s head. That was a large part of why Sarah always arranged to audit courses at schools near one of her cousins. If she ever went back to her cuckoo roots, she wanted one of us close enough to kill her before she did too much damage.

My mouth was suddenly dry. I swallowed several times before I managed to ask, “Is there anything I can do?”

“What she did . . .” Grandma shook her head. “I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. If you’d asked me, I would have told you it wasn’t possible. But she managed it, and now she won’t stop screaming. She hurt herself, Verity. She hurt herself very badly. Not in a physical way, although that would have been easier. Somewhere inside her mind.”

“Like pulling a muscle?” I ventured.

“Something like that.” Grandma sighed, very briefly looking every one of her years. She reached over and patted my hand. “I’m glad you’re all right. And I truly don’t blame any of you for what happened. But Sarah’s going back to Ohio with me, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take her to recover.”

Or if she was going to recover. Grandma didn’t say that part; she didn’t need to. It was written in the tension of her mouth and the defeated slant of her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be sorry. Just get better.” Grandma leaned forward and hugged me tight. “You had us all scared, Very-Very, and you know Sarah wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t love you more than anything.”

“I know,” I said, and returned the hug as best I could with the tubes sticking out of my arms. “If there’s anything I can do . . .”

“Just get better,” Grandma repeated, and let go, standing. “I don’t want to tire you out. You’re supposed to be still recovering.”

“Okay.” I sighed, sagging deeper into the mattress. “I love you, Grandma.”

“I love you, too, Very-Very.” She leaned in and tapped me gently on the forehead. “Now get some rest.”

Grandma wasn’t a receptive telepath, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t push. I was asleep almost before I felt myself getting tired, and I didn’t hear her leave the room.

I awoke to the sound of cheering.

“HAIL THE RESURRECTION OF THE ARBOREAL PRIESTESS!”

Normally, waking up to the mice will elicit a groan and maybe a flung pillow. This time, I just smiled and said, without opening my eyes, “Amen.”

The mice went nuts, shouting hosannas and praising the hospital room, the bed, the pillows, and everything else they could think of to high Heaven. One enterprising acolyte even began praising my bedhead, calling it “the tousled proof of our glorious Priestess’ trials.” I’d have to remember that one the next time there wasn’t enough mousse in the world.

Next to the bed, Uncle Mike snorted and said, “You know, they’re not going to shut up for like a week.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” I opened my eyes and turned to face him, a process that was greatly simplified by the fact that most of the tubes—and the catheter—had been removed while I was sleeping. “Hi, Uncle Mike.”

“Hi, Very-girl. You planning to stay awake for a little while this time?”

“That’s not fair,” I protested. “Grandma knocked me out before.”

“Because you needed it. If you’re awake, you don’t need it anymore. The doctor says you’re just about fully recovered at this point. I knew you were too stubborn to stay injured for long.” Now Uncle Mike smiled, relief underscoring the expression. “You scared the crap out of me, you know.”

“HAIL THE FAMILIAL TERROR!” exulted the mice.

“Hey, this is a hospital,” I said, sitting up to see the congregation gathered on my bed. There were only about a dozen of them present. It had sounded like more. “Keep it down.”

“Yes, Priestess,” said one of the mice, sounding abashed. The others cheered. Very softly.

“That’s better.” I looked back to Uncle Mike. “I didn’t exactly sign up to get kidnapped.”

“I know, I know.” Uncle Mike scowled. “When we got that anti-telepathy charm back, Kitty took it to some hidebehinds for a look-see. They said it had a homing compulsion on it. Once you picked it up, you had to return it to Margaret.”

“Well, that’s one bit of stupidity explained,” I said. “When you say ‘got it back,’ you mean . . .”

“That you had swallowed it, yes. And no, I’m not the one who had to do the actual retrieval.”

“Thank God for small favors,” I muttered, before asking, in a normal voice, “How did you find me?”

“Dominic. That boy’s crazy about you, you know. He’d better be. The Covenant will never take him back now.”

“Good thing I’m crazy about him, too.” I tried to say it lightly. I failed. “Uncle Mike, about Sarah . . .”

“She’s the one who made sure we kept looking for you, right up until Dominic showed up to help us out,” he said. “She’s the one who got the dragons looking for you, and it was the dragons who followed the Covenant back to their base and confirmed you were being held in that warehouse. She’s the one who transported the mice to the area to survey the ground floor and give us the all clear. Sarah knew what she was doing. I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, but she had her eyes wide open through this whole thing. None of it happened to her without her knowing it was a risk, just like you didn’t get shot without knowing it was a risk. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” I sighed. “I still feel awful.”

“Good. You should feel awful.”

I blinked at him. “Way to pep talk, Uncle Mike.”

He looked at me implacably. “I’m serious. If a member of your family gets hurt, you feel bad. You figure out why it happened. You make sure it doesn’t happen again. Feeling awful is the first step. Everything after this is up to you.”

“Pep talk received,” I said.

“Good,” said a new voice from the doorway. I turned to see a man in scrubs and a lab coat, with broad white-feathered wings. He was looking at a clipboard. Then he looked up, and smiled. “I’d tell you that mice in a hospital were unhygienic, but as they’re Aeslin, I believe we can count them as family members and let this one slide. How are you feeling, Miss Price?”

“Totally better,” I said. “Can I get up?”

“Given that your injuries should be completely healed by this point, yes, you may get up whenever you like.” He lowered the clipboard. “I’m Dr. Morrow. I’ve been responsible for your care while you were here.”

Recognition sparked. “You’re the one who contacted me about the manananggal,” I said.

“Yes, and we very much appreciate you taking care of that for us. My mate and head nurse spoke very highly of your handling of that matter, which is why I was willing to take your case. We don’t treat many humans at St. Giles’.”

“Well, I really appreciate you taking the time to look after me.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Price.” Dr. Morrow smiled. “I know how much you’ve done for this city. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“I brought some clothes for you,” said Uncle Mike. “You want me to take the mice so you can get dressed?”

“Please.” It wasn’t like the mice hadn’t seen me naked before—that was sadly unavoidable, no matter how much I might try to avoid it—but I still had standards.

“Thought so.” Uncle Mike handed me a folded bundle before standing, making a sweeping motion with his hands. “Come on, you lot. There’s cheese and cake in the waiting room.”

Cheering and hailing his name, the mice scampered from my bed and streamed across the tiled floor, disappearing between Dr. Morrow’s bare, vaguely-taloned feet. He watched this with an air of vague discomfort, finally saying, “We don’t treat many human patients, but the ones we do treat rarely come with their own traveling biosphere.”

“My family is special,” I said, with a smile.

“I’m getting that idea. Please don’t leave without speaking to me, Miss Price.” With that, the doctor stepped out of my hospital room. Uncle Mike paused long enough to kiss my cheek, and then he was gone as well, shutting the door behind himself.

I waited a few minutes to be sure that no one was going to come barging in before I stretched slowly and folded back the covers, finally moving into a full sitting position. I was wearing one of those pale green hospital gowns. It was almost a relief to realize that those were just as much standard issue in cryptid hospitals as they were in human ones. I took a breath, steeling myself, and pulled the gown up to get a look at my stomach where Peter had shot me.

Dr. Morrow was telling the truth: the gunshot wound was gone, and while the skin there was slightly paler than the skin around it, there was no scar. I touched it lightly with the tips of my fingers, feeling the first tears wet my cheeks. I was going to be okay. I was going to be better than okay, in fact. And that meant that whatever came next, it was going to be something that I needed to deal with.

Uncle Mike had chosen well, where clothes were concerned: he brought jeans, a tank top, a flannel shirt, my loosest hip holster, and a brace of throwing knives for me to hide wherever it would make me most comfortable. For shoes, he had a pair of broken-in trainers and some thick wool socks. By the time I had the last of the knives secured inside my clothes, I felt almost like myself again.

I tried to hold onto that feeling as I walked to the door, opened it, and stepped out into the hall. Remembering the promise Uncle Mike had made to the mice, I paused for a moment to listen before making my way toward the sound of cheering.

When I reached the waiting room, there was a full-scale dance number going in the middle of the floor, with the mice literally waltzing around with their slices of cake and chunks of cheese. Uncle Mike was watching with detached amusement; Ryan and Istas with something approaching awe. Dominic wasn’t watching at all. He was staring fixedly at the hall, waiting for me to appear. He straightened as I came into view, and by the time I reached the doorway, he was standing, stepping around dancing mice as he made his way toward me.

Ryan turned to see where Dominic was going, and his face split in a wide smile. “Verity. You’re up and moving again.”

“I am,” I agreed. “Hey, Istas.”

“The mice are performing a dance of thanks,” she informed me, frowning. “You should observe the mice.”

“All right,” I said. I let Dominic gather me into his arms and leaned up against him, my shoulders to his chest, as we stood and observed the mice. Istas clapped her hands, happy as I’d ever seen her, while Ryan looked tolerantly on. Uncle Mike caught my eye and smiled. This was it, then. This was my life. Since it was going to continue, I might as well get used to it.

There are worse fates.

Twenty-five

“Family, faith, and knives. Those are the things that last in this world. Everything else is essentially extra.”

—Evelyn Baker

St. Giles’ Hospital, an establishment for the care of cryptids

T
HERE WAS ONE THING
I had to do before I could leave the hospital. Everyone knew I had to do it. And so when I said that I was going to go and talk to the doctor, they all let me go. Even Dominic. Even the mice.

There are some things that we have to do alone.

Grandma Angela was sitting next to Sarah’s bed when I came into the room. She looked up at the sound of my footsteps, and smiled. “Hello, Very-Very,” she said, making no effort to be quiet. There was no reason for it. Sarah was deeply unconscious, and from the slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest, she was at no risk of waking up. She was dressed in a pale green hospital gown, just like I’d been. She was flat on her back, like a princess in a bad Disney remake of some ancient fairy tale. Only it was going to take more than a kiss to wake her up.

“Hi, Grandma,” I said, walking over to the bedside. “How’s she doing?”

“Asleep, mostly, but I think she’s getting better, a little bit at a time. It can be hard to tell, since I can’t pick up what she’s projecting.” Grandma reached over and smoothed Sarah’s hair back from her forehead.

I swallowed hard. “Are you shielding the rest of us right now?”

“Yes.” Grandma nodded. “I didn’t want to risk it being something that wasn’t . . . well. That wouldn’t go over well.”

“But it could be important. Maybe we need to know.” I stood a little straighter. “Can you unshield me? Just long enough for me to tell you what she’s projecting at the rest of us?”

Grandma looked unsure. “Verity . . .”

“Please. This is partially my responsibility, even if it’s not my fault, and I’ve had Sarah screaming in my head before. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“If you’re sure . . .”

“Will it help?”

Very slowly, Grandma nodded. “I think it will, yes.”

“Then do it.”

“All right.” She looked at me gravely. The edges of her irises went white, the lack of color spreading into the blue like frost—and just like that, the static buzz of “telepath nearby” returned, Sarah’s presence once more making itself known to my mind. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it until I finally had it back again.

Then her thoughts came flooding in, hot on the heels of the static. There were no words: just an emotional slurry of images and feelings and panicked reactions. I staggered, eyes going wide. Grandma half-stood, and I gestured for her to sit back down as I braced myself and started trying to sort through what I was receiving. It wasn’t easy.

“She’s scared,” I said finally. “She doesn’t know how she did what she did, she doesn’t know whether it’s something she should have been able to do. She volunteered, but she didn’t think it would be quite that easy, or quite that strong. So she’s scared. And she’s afraid that because it was easy, it’s going to be something she wants to do again. Like this is something she’ll just
do
now.”
But you won’t,
I thought fiercely.
Sarah, do you hear me? You won’t do anything like that unless you don’t have any other choice, because you’re one of the best people I know, and good people just don’t
do
that kind of thing. So don’t be scared of something that’s never going to happen. That’s just silly.

There was a brief pause in the overwhelming flood of guilt. I didn’t know for sure whether that meant she’d heard me, but I still took it as a good sign.

“What else?” asked Grandma.

“She really did hurt herself. It was easy, but it was a strain at the same time, like those people who get hopped-up on adrenaline and throw cars around. She’s afraid to be awake, because if she’s awake, she might manipulate people just to avoid straining herself further.”

Grandma nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of. Well, we can keep her out long enough to get her home, where there’s nobody she can do that to.” Grandma didn’t receive; Grandpa was a Revenant, and having died once, he was basically immune to telepathic influences. My Uncle Billy might have had more issues, but he wasn’t living at home at the moment, and he could stay away while Sarah recovered.

“She’s going to get better, right?” I bit my lip as I waited for her answer.

To my deep relief, Grandma nodded. “If she’s projecting clearly enough that you can hear her, but not so strongly that she’s knocking you unconscious, then yes, I think there’s a very good chance that she’s going to get better.”

“Good.” I looked sternly at Sarah’s still, pale form. “You hear that? You’re going to be fine. And if you’re not, I’m going to kick your ass.”
I mean that. Whether you can hear me or not, I mean it.

“You’re a good cousin, Very-Very,” said Grandma.

“I’m a terrible cousin who leads Sarah into the path of danger because I think she needs to get out more,” I said. “I’m also a terrible granddaughter.”

Grandma blinked. “Oh? How’s that?”

“I’m going to let you be the one who tells Artie.”

Much to my relief, she laughed. “Oh, you
are
a terrible granddaughter.” She paused. “There is one thing you could do to make it up to me.”

“Name it.”

“Can you watch Sarah while I go and get myself something to eat? I haven’t wanted to leave her unattended for long, but it seems to me that you have a pretty good handle on things.”

I smiled. Grandma might not be a receptive telepath, but she knows how to read people, and she knew that I wanted some time with Sarah alone. “Take as long as you need,” I said.

Grandma hugged me before she left the room. I took her seat next to Sarah’s bed, reaching over to take Sarah’s hand in mine. Her skin was cool, but no more than usual. Cuckoos run a little cold compared to humans.

“Hey, Sarah,” I said, trying to mentally project the words as I said them. I wanted her to hear me with her ears, as well as with her mind. “I just wanted to say thank you. I mean, you saved my ass back there. If you hadn’t shown up when you did . . . well, this would be a really different scene, and I don’t make nearly as good of a Sleeping Beauty as you do. Not that you’re a Sleeping Beauty. More of a Snow White, with your coloring. Too bad Artie isn’t here. He could kiss you awake. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Silence from Sarah. There was no change in the mix of thoughts and emotions rolling off of her.

I sighed. “I know you’re feeling pretty rotten right now, but seriously, you found the best solution. You found the answer where everybody walked away. How many cuckoos would have done that? Most of them would have just reached for the matches and watched the whole thing burn. You did the right thing. You did the
best
thing. You did the thing that saved the most lives, and that’s why I love you.”

Silence from Sarah . . . but I thought, for just a second, that I felt her fingers tighten on mine.

I closed my eyes. “So Grandma says that you get to go back to Ohio for a little while. You like it there, right? You’ll have all your books, and you can pick up your comics from the comic book store for the first time in like, a year. Lots of spandex drama for you to catch up on. Speaking of drama, you realize we’re stuck with Dominic now, right? The Covenant won’t be coming back for him . . .”

I talked until I ran out of words, and then I just sat there and held her hand, “listening” to the mixture of thoughts and images that came pouring off her. This, too, was a part of my life; remembering that everything costs, and sometimes, what it costs is more than we want to pay. But we pay anyway, because that’s the right thing to do. Sarah would get better. She had to.

I was still sitting there, holding Sarah’s hand, when Grandma came back into the room. She came and stood next to me, putting her hand on my shoulder, and the three of us stayed that way for quite some time.