The Hob (The Gray Court 4) (13 page)

Trish glanced down the hallway. “Go. I’ll tell McGrabby you’re in the little nurse’s room.”

“Thanks.” Michaela scuttled away, eager to get out from under her boss’s evil eye. Ugh. Maybe she did need to change jobs. Not even the kids made that man worth it.

She got to the elevator without being seen and managed to make her way down to emergency. Ed and Will were there, filling out paperwork. “Hey, guys. That guy you brought in yesterday. Any idea where they’ve put him?”

Will grinned and waved his bottle of water at her in greeting. “Michaela. How’s McGrabby?”

“My life would be so much better if he didn’t have a penis.”

Will bent over and clutched his manhood in protest. “Man. That’s just wrong. Not even McGrabby deserves a Bobbitt.” He shuddered, his hands still cupped protectively over his privates.

Ed laughed. “Your vic’s in ICU with internal injuries. His name is Samuel something-or-other.”

“Samuel Snodgrass.” Will straightened up and shot his partner an astonished look. “Dude, how could you forget that? The man sounds like he belongs in Hogwarts.” He picked up his bottle of water and took a drink, handing the bottle to his partner when Ed held his hand out.

Michaela bit back a laugh. “Seriously? His name is Sammy Snodgrass?”

Will snickered. “That’s what I said.”

“Sounds like a gangster name in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, doesn’t it? Like he’s BFFs with Rocky and Mugsy.” Ed gave in and laughed. “His parents must have hated him.”

“Poor guy. I’m going to go check on him, see how he is. You two stay out of trouble, okay?”

“You too.” Will frowned, his expression turning serious. “Listen, if you ever need a reference, I know some docs over at Lincoln who would love to have you.”

“Yeah. Give us the word and we’ll have your resume on their desks so fast Dick’s head will spin.”

Michaela smiled. She had the best friends. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem.”

“See ya later.”

Michaela made her way to ICU and asked for Samuel Snodgrass. When she explained to the on-duty nurse why she was there, the older woman let her in. Since Candace used to work on Michaela’s floor, they’d known each other for a while. She was another nurse who’d bailed when Dick had taken over, but she’d had enough seniority to get a transfer rather than having to leave. “Just don’t wake him. He’s been restless all day. Keeps muttering something about the press, but he sounds scared as hell.” Candace grimaced. “That boy’s been through something bad, I just know it.”

Michaela nodded. Candace’s instincts when it came to the abused were pretty good. If Candace was saying he’d been through something pretty bad, it was probably
really
bad. “Will do. You know me, Candace. I check on kids all night long. I’ll be quiet.”

“Yeah, but this guy’s been restless. He woke up screaming. Twice. I’ve never heard anything like it. It was like he was being tortured.”

“Could it be sleep paralysis?” The vivid, nightmarish hallucinations that accompany sleep paralysis could make a person believe they were being tortured. People who suffered from the disorder reported seeing demons perched on their chests, witches digging claws into them, even alien abductions. Because their bodies were locked by the natural paralysis that occurs during REM sleep, they felt helpless to defend themselves, adding to the trauma of the disorder.

“I don’t think so. He wakes up and immediately begins thrashing, like he’s fighting something. It could be a form of night terrors.”

Or maybe he was reliving something that actually happened to him. Michaela hurried toward her patient’s room. “I’ll see if I can find out anything.”

“Thanks, hon. If anyone can get him to open up, it would be you.”

Michaela entered the room, surprised to find the man awake and staring at the door. “Hi, Mr. Snodgrass. Do you remember me?”

He nodded and licked his lips. “M-Michaela.”

She gave him her best smile, the one that always made the kids smile back. “That’s me. I wanted to check up on you, make sure you were okay.”

“Hurts.” He shuddered, his face wrinkling into a grimace. He was probably one of the least attractive men she’d ever met, with short dark hair and squashed features that spoke of more than one fight in his lifetime where faces were prime targets. Still, the way those dark brown eyes watched her every move as if she were the second coming was sort of endearing. And creepy.

Endearingly creepy. Two words she usually didn’t usually think of together, but they worked for Sammy Snodgrass.

He struggled to lift his broken arm and reach for her. “Help. Me.”

She stood by the side of his bed and took his hand, hoping to soothe him. “What do you need?”

He gripped her hand so tightly she could barely wiggle her fingers. “Loyalty and protection I give to thee. I am your man, and you my liege. By this oath I am bound to thee, by the law of three times three.”

“What?” Okay, she had a crazy man on her hands. She tried to pull her hand out of his, but unless she was willing to hurt him she couldn’t get free.

“Loyalty and protection I give to thee. I am your man, and you my liege. By this oath I am bound to thee, by the law of three times three.”

“Um, Mr. Snodgrass, I don’t think—”

“Loyalty and protection I give to thee. I am your man, and you my liege. By this oath I am bound to thee, by the law of three times three.” He sank back against the pillow as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders, but his gaze never left her. The pained expression that had gripped his features dissipated. The tight hold he’d had on her hand loosened. “Beware, my lady. There are those that will harm you because of your association with Robin Goodfellow.” He took a deep breath, the movement flexing massive shoulders. He gave her what she assumed was meant to be a reassuring smile but looked more like his dick was caught in a meat grinder. “I will be there soon to protect you, I swear.”

Oh, boy. How the hell did she keep getting into situations like this? “Mr. Snodgrass—”

“Snod. My name is Snod.” He smiled, and his homely face became almost human. “You saved my life, and I am yours.”

She cocked one eyebrow in disbelief. “I don’t think my apartment building will let me keep a person as a pet. Besides, what the hell am I supposed to feed you?”

He started to laugh, but it became a wracking cough. She soothed him back down, petting his arm and muttering nonsense until his eyelids began to flutter once more. “I will be there soon, my lady. Until then, trust no one.” He frowned, trying to fight the sleep he needed to heal. “Promise me.”

She patted his hand. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

His lips curved into a serene smile as he finally fell asleep. She blew out a breath and moved to the foot of his bed, reading his chart.

Busted ribs, bruised lungs, a broken arm and numerous contusions. All in all, it could have been much worse. As it was, the doctor had marked down his remarkable recovery rate. It seemed Snod had been in bad shape when he’d been brought in, but that all the tests showed he was healing much more quickly than expected. The doctor was planning on running extra tests.

Michaela tsk’d and put the chart back. Doctors loved unnecessary tests. If the man was healing, what was the problem? Did the doc think Snod was an alien or something?

Sheesh. Michaela closed the room’s door and headed for the elevator, nodding thanks once more to Candace as she passed the nurse’s station. Sometimes the doctors didn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

Now all she had to do was sneak onto her floor, avoid Dick for the rest of the night, and meet Ringo for breakfast tomorrow.

I wonder if that dude dressed as Robin Goodfellow is available for lunch?

Michaela groaned and covered her face with her hands. God. What was she going to do?

Robin watched as the elevator doors closed on Michaela, then glided silently, invisibly, toward the redcap’s room. He’d planned on killing the creature, but listening to its oath of fealty had startled him, made him wary. If he destroyed the creature, Michaela would more than likely attempt to find out who had done it and why it had been killed. She would wind up destroying herself in the process, and that Robin could not allow.
 

At least the Seeming prevented the creature from registering on human tests as anything but a mortal. That would have been an unholy mess, but the gods had ensured that the fae were protected, even from the rapid technological advances of the humans.

Still, how did the woman get into these situations? It amazed him, it truly did.

“The only reason you’re still alive is the woman who left.”

Robin paused at the doorway. He recognized that voice, and it left him cold.

“I am hers, and she is mine.”

The hospital shook as Robin’s eyes flared green. It should be him saying that, not some redcap lying broken in a hospital bed.

“I will protect her, even from you, Lord Raven.” The redcap’s deep, rumbling voice was filled with conviction. He would fight the Black Court fae to keep his new mistress safe.

Robin took a deep breath and tried to calm his rage. He hadn’t lost control so much since he’d been very young. The last time someone had claimed something of his…

Well. They were still uncovering Pompeii.

“And that is why you will live, despite Lord Bres.” Raven laughed, the sound dark and vaguely familiar. “Though if he were to lay hands on you there would be nothing left but dust.”

The redcap growled. “I will protect her even from Lord Bres.”

Robin’s brows rose. That was, indeed, brave of the creature. The Fomorian was one of the oldest, and last, of his kind, and ruled the redcaps with an iron fist. He’d once been king of the Tuatha Dè and forced them to act as slaves to the Fomorian rulers. Somehow he’d wound up with the beauty of both his Fomorian father and his Tuatha Dè mother, making him one of the most exquisite-looking people to ever walk the earth. Very few could resist his charm when he chose to employ it. Even fewer wished to incur his wrath. He was vicious to those who crossed him in any way. He ruled the most brutal thugs in the fae world and relished the role.

All except this one, who’d pledged himself to Robin’s truebond.
Ah, the irony.
When Bres discovered his lackey had grown a spine he would make the creature suffer pain unknown to mortal man.

Raven seemed almost curious. He watched the redcap with all the attention an entomologist would give a new species of bug. “Bres will not like this, and you know what he does to those he doesn’t like.”

“Lord Bres no longer has power over me.”

“What?”

Indeed. What was the creature talking about?

“Lord Bres knew. Lord Bres tried to hurt me, but Michaela came and made the pain go away. I will protect my lady with my last breath.” The creature sighed. “She makes the pain go away.”

It was said with such childish wonder Robin was shocked to his core.

“I will protect her even from the Hob himself.”

Now that, Robin could not allow. “Indeed?” He sauntered into the room, his boot heels clacking on the polished linoleum. He was pleased to note Raven had been unaware of his presence, as the Fear Dearc started most delightfully. “And how do you propose to do that, I wonder?”

Raven’s eyes narrowed viciously. “Stay away from Michaela, Hob.”

Robin tilted his head and laughed. “I think you have no say in the matter, Fear Dearc.”

The redcap’s gaze was bouncing back and forth between them like a Ping–Pong ball. “No one hurts Michaela.”

Robin bowed slightly to the creature. It belonged to Michaela now and, perforce, to him. Robin Goodfellow took care of his own. “On that, we agree.”

The Fear Dearc shot the redcap a sour look. “Indeed.”

Robin took a deep breath. “We need to…”

What was that scent?

The Fear Dearc’s head cocked to the side, a gesture so familiar Robin was shocked. “Need to what, Hobgoblin?”

Robin frowned. Where had he smelled that elusive fragrance before? He took a step closer to Raven, who took a step back.

There. That wild, feral scent that surrounded the Raven Lord. What in blazes was it?

“I don’t think so.” Darkness swirled around Raven, dark wisps that engulfed him until there was nothing left but the lingering scent of smoke…and Hob.

Robin took a deep breath, and the world swirled around him in a dizzying wave.

No. It was not possible. He refused to believe it.

The son of Robin Goodfellow could not be Black Court.

Chapter Eleven

Oberon forced himself not to sigh. Damn mortals and their ingenuity. He wanted to find the person who’d developed both the Internet and video calls and flay them alive. Lately it seemed every Tom, Dick and fairy wanted the great King Oberon to mediate their disputes.

Now Gloriana was calling him for “updates”. There had been a time when he had been able to do his job in peace. Now he was acting as his own damn secretary. Perhaps Robin was right and he needed an assistant. But truly, who could he trust? “We have received no word yet, Gloriana. Be patient. It has only been a day.”