TheSmallPrint (30 page)

Catch and Turner leaned against the wall, staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“That’s what we were wondering,” Turner said.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Catch asked. “Vicious bloodsuckers? Dripping fangs? That’s just him of course. I’m cute and cuddly.”

Turner snapped him into a headlock and Catch struggled free.

“Don’t you believe us?” Catch asked.

“’Course I do.” Why not, since she’d made them up? Though Matty wondered why she’d not made them drink her blood. She walked over and grabbed their hands. “Come on. Winterval will be officially open in a few minutes. We don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

“Put on something warm,” Catch said.

“Yes, Dad.” Matty rolled her eyes, but in the hall she pulled on the new blue sweater he’d bought her.

Why hadn’t she thought of doing this before, inventing someone to buy her things? Why hadn’t she invented sex with two guys seven months ago? What a waste. Still, better late than never. Though as Matty stepped out of the house, hand in hand with the guys, something felt wrong with this whole scenario. Why would she make herself have that pain in her heart? Why had she nearly exposed Turner to sunlight? Why had she let herself fall into the river?

No, something wasn’t right.

A vampire and a werewolf?

Not right at all.

Turner hadn’t been sure how Matty would react, but he was pretty positive this jolly acceptance was nowhere in his spectrum of expectation. He cast a glance at Catch, and the raised eyebrows told him Catch was as surprised as him.

When Matty tried to pull them toward the field and the heavy beat of fairground music, Turner and Catch tugged her the other way.

“Hi there,” a voice called.

Turner cringed. Diana Rolfe came hurrying up, the vicar a little way behind.

“You’re going the wrong way,” she panted then smiled at Catch. “Hi, I’m a friend of Turner’s.”

“I don’t want her in this dream,” Matty whispered.

“Good evening,” said Reverend Lazonby.

Diana turned on a megawatt smile. “I didn’t see your cake in the marquee. I do hope you haven’t let us down.”

“Could you delay the judging until I get back? Eleven? Midnight?” Turner asked.

She frowned. “That’s rather—“

“We have to go and see a friend in hospital,” Catch said.

Turner tightened his hold on Matty’s arm as she tried to pull free.

“Oh well, what about your cake?” Diana asked. “We need it for the auction. We already have a bid of fifty pounds.”

Catch laughed. “A thousand percent prof—” Matty stamped on his toe.

Turner took his house keys from his pocket and handed them to the vicar. “The cake’s in the kitchen. Please lock up again.”

“You promised me a dance,” Diana shouted as they hurried off.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Matty said.

“Yes, you do,” Catch said.

* * * * *

Gabriel closed his eyes and turned his head toward the window of the car. Dava was giving him a headache. Again.

“A motor home.” She made no attempt to keep the disgust out of her voice. “I don’t want to sleep in a motor home.”

Gabriel wasn’t ecstatic about it either, but it was the best that could be managed on short notice. And at least they weren’t traveling in it. The motor home following them, driven by Pete, was a precaution, a means of providing secure daytime accommodation should nothing else become available.

“The vehicle is perfectly adequate,” Gabriel said. “I’m grateful to Victor for finding it.” He opened his eyes and smiled.

Victor, the broad-shouldered shifter driving the black Lexus, nodded.

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Gabriel said to him. “And you too, Nick.”

The vampire in the passenger seat turned and smiled. “It’s an honor.”

Whereas for Victor it was purely a matter of money, but no matter. Gabriel needed the help of those who could walk in the sun and they were hardly likely to offer support because the idea of helping vampires appealed to their altruistic nature. But support was gathering momentum. In a pyramid-style transmission of information, one told two who told four and so on. If not all wanted to believe, that was fine. Gabriel only needed sufficient numbers to fund the lifestyle he deserved.

“A motor home,” Dava muttered.

Gabriel glared at her. “Small steps. Early days. I’m grateful for the loyalty of the Purelight Calling.”

“Fellowship,” Dava said. “Remember we were going to call it the Purelight Fellowship now.”

Gabriel imagined wrapping his hands around her throat. Why was it such a recurrent fantasy? One swift twist and her neck would be broken. If he kept twisting, he could wrench her head off. It would be messy though, and it wasn’t his car.

“We’re the Purelight Calling,” Gabriel said. “Why change the name? One day, let it be soon, praise be the light, we will all stand together in the sun.”

Nick turned and gazed at him with adoration undimmed after twenty years. A young vampire who still regretted his decision to turn, he was exactly the kind of believer Gabriel liked along with the older ones who’d grown bored with a dark existence. Well, Gabriel liked them all, provided they had money. What he didn’t need from them was intelligence. That made him think again of Logan, who twenty years ago had slipped away as things unraveled. Where was he now?

Gabriel rolled his shoulders. “How long before we reach Milford Hall?”

“Not long,” Victor said.

“What if Turner no longer believes?” Dava asked.

What if he never had?
“He’ll see the light,” Gabriel said. “Or we’ll send him to eternal darkness.”

Chapter Twenty

“How are you guys going to get in?” Matty asked.

She stared up at the hospital building, lights blazing on every floor, and wondered which window she lay behind. Strange how real this felt, the firm clasp they each had of her hands.

Because you’re not making it up, you twit.

Matty pushed the thought away, though her pulse still pounded as her inner voice yelled,
Open your eyes and accept this
.

“We walk in,” Turner said.

“I could go on my own. You won’t be allowed onto the ward. It’s after visiting hours. Anyway, you don’t know where I am,” she pointed out.

Turner gripped her hand more firmly as if he expected her to bolt.
Damn.

“We’re doing this together,” Catch said.

It was easier than Matty expected. A question at reception revealed she was on a high-dependency unit on the seventh floor. Ward DG7. Her nerves sizzled even harder.
High dependency?
Not hard to figure out that was serious. Already anxious about being away from Milford Hall, fear of what she’d see in a few minutes made her tremble.

“You okay?” Catch asked as they entered the elevator.

“Yes.”

“No you’re not.” He pulled her into his arms.

“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Turner said.

“But it already has,” she whispered.

Maybe the moment she saw herself lying in bed, this part of her would vanish. Maybe she’d never see Turner or Catch again. Maybe they’d never existed. Maybe she’d die.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
She wanted to say goodbye but worried that might make it happen.

Her steps grew slower and shorter as they walked down the corridor. If Matty believed she could get away, she’d have run.

Catch pressed the intercom at the locked door of DG7. “My friend and I would like to see Matty Hobsbawn, please.”

“Visiting is over for tonight,” said a woman.

“We’ve driven straight from Heathrow,” Catch said. “Just flown in after a long stretch of military service in the Middle East. We didn’t know she was in the hospital until this morning. We rang her parents. Well, their house. We hadn’t known about them dying either. We’re devastated.”

Turner made a cutting motion across his throat. Catch rolled his eyes.

“Please. Just for a moment,” Catch wheedled. “We’d be really grateful.”

The door buzzed, Catch gave a cocky smile and pushed it open. When they reached the desk, two small, round nurses quietly argued.

They’re not going to let us in.
Matty sighed with relief.

One nurse stalked off and Turner spoke to the other, repeating what Catch had said in a gentle but firm voice.

Like that was going to work, Matty thought.

“She’s down the corridor.”

Huh?
Turner must have laid on the charm. Well, he was a handsome guy. If she’d turned up at this time of night, they’d have said go away.

“We were told she’s been in a coma for months,” Catch said. “What happened?”

“She was hit by a train.”

Matty gasped.
What?
How could she not remember colliding with a train?

“Tell us all you know,” Turner said in that same low tone.

“Matty’s injuries were extensive,” said the nurse. “She wasn’t expected to live. She had a severe head injury and never regained consciousness after she came out of the operating theater. Attempts to take her off the ventilator have failed.”

No, no, no.
Matty didn’t want to hear any of this.

“I’ve been hoping friends would come to see her, but her uncle said no visitors.”

“What?” Matty snapped. “Ask her why.”

“Has he said why?” Catch asked.

“He feels Matty wouldn’t want to be seen like this. Over the last week or so, her uncle’s come in more often. He’s very attentive.”

Matty found that hard to believe. Her uncle had no time for her usually, but the woman’s tone of voice told Matty what she wasn’t saying. She didn’t like Bernard Strachan.
Join the club.

“There’s no need to tell him we visited,” Turner said. “No point in upsetting him.”

“No,” the nurse said. “No point.”

“You won’t remember we came to see her.” Turner’s voice was smooth and melodic.

“No,” the nurse said again.

What was Turner doing?

“There’s another patient in there, so please be quiet,” the nurse whispered.

The moment the door opened and Matty tried to take a step, her knees went out from under her. Turner caught her and swept her up as he walked in. Matty’s gaze snapped to the curtain across the room. Machines bleeped, she could see them flashing out the corner of her eye, but she had no intention of looking at the bed. Not for anything.

“Leave us for a few minutes,” Turner said in a firm voice.

“I’ll leave you for a few minutes,” the nurse said. “Matty can’t respond, but patients in comas can sometimes hear. Talk to her. Share memories.”

The nurse closed the door behind her. Turner set Matty on her feet and tugged her over to the bed. The
rhythmic hiss and whoosh of the ventilator grew louder in her head until it was all she could hear. Air being forced into her lungs and then sucked out again.
I don’t want to see this.

“Oh God,” Turner gulped.

Not going to look.

“Fuck,” Catch muttered.

She
really
wasn’t going to look. None of this was happening. She might be in a coma, but she was making this part up. Only why would she invent something this terrible?

Matty’s head slowly lifted and she looked at long legs lying beneath a pale blue cover. As her gaze slipped a little higher she closed her eyes.

“Is it me?” she whispered.

Catch took one hand as Turner squeezed the other.

“Yes, princess,” Catch said. “Open your eyes.”

Matty took a deep breath and then looked down. She stared at the figure lying in the hospital bed, face swollen, a breathing device in her mouth, an IV line in her arm, wires and tubes everywhere. Matty wanted to claim it wasn’t her, but it was.

Catch shifted a lock of hair from the sick Matty’s face.

“Hit by a train?” Turner asked. “Do you remember that?”

“No.” Matty stared at herself. How had she survived being hit by a train? Ah, she hadn’t, had she?

Matty felt as though she’d been cramming for an exam, stuffed her head full of information, and when she finally picked up the pen to answer the questions, she couldn’t make sense of the jumble in her brain. Thinking she was imagining all this had been nothing more than a defense mechanism. She hadn’t made up all these months. She’d somehow become detached from her body, left it lying in the hospital and gone home.

Time had passed, the world moved on, and while this poor Matty hadn’t,
she
had. A medical marvel. A miracle, and she could tell no one because she was invisible. Except not to Turner and Catch and George because they were…
Oh God. Not thinking about that.

She watched in stunned disbelief as she reached toward the hand lying on top of the cover. When Matty’s fingers slid inside those she touched and merged so it looked as if there were one hand, she squeaked and yanked her arm back. But their hands were joined—spectral fingers wouldn’t let her go.

“No,” Matty screamed, and flailed with her other hand as she tried to get free.

A moment later, she was away from the bed, across the room, trembling in Catch’s arms. When she’d pulled free, there had been a sharp pain in her chest. It faded as she gasped.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Catch kept repeating.

Matty shuddered into him, pressing her face against his leather jacket.

Turner’s arms held her too. “What happened?”

“Didn’t you see?” Matty asked.

“You put your hand on hers, princess, and freaked out,” Catch whispered into her hair.

She couldn’t stand to look at the bed. “She wants me back inside. I need to leave. Now.”

Matty tried to get free, but they kept hold of her.

“No,” Matty pleaded. “Please, please. Don’t make me.” Panic invaded every cell. She was desperate to run yet couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

“Princess, calm down. No one’s going to make you do anything.” Catch rested his chin on her head.