"Did you want that bear?” He nodded at the gift shop.
Warmth rushed to my cheeks, and I shook my head. I swayed as I felt the blood drain from my face again, and Nathanial caught my shoulders to keep me standing.
Bobby pulled Nathanial's hands off me. “Don't touch her!"
Nathanial glanced at Bobby's grip around his wrists, and the first glint of anger cut into his grey eyes. Oh, this will go downhill fast.
I stepped between them, knocking their arms apart. “Enough, both of you.” I met each man's eyes in turn. This was ridiculous. And people were starting to stare now, drawn to the rising tension like flies to a corpse. “Are we going to hang out in the lobby all night?"
They frowned. Nathanial shook his head, but neither moved back. Bobby's anger mixed with his energy and spilled off his skin like electrified needles brushing along the left side of my body. Nathanial went into statue mode, his cold glare unwavering. Idiots.
I looked at Gil for help. She shrugged, apparently the only one immune to the thick tension, and headed down a hallway leading deeper into the hospital. I followed. If the guys wanted to have a pissing contest in the lobby, they could do it alone.
Neither Bobby nor Nathanial backed down. They simply turned to follow and ignored each other. It was like having two cobras at my heels. I waited for one to land the first strike.
Gil led us into the stairwell. I lost count of how many identical flights of stairs we climbed before she finally indicated we'd reached the right level. She navigated through the bright corridors following signs with strange medical words and small arrows.
At each corner, Nathanial put out a hand, stopping me. He scanned the halls before dropping his arm and letting me pass. Apparently he wasn't concerned for Gil and Bobby, who were ahead of us, but despite my protests and trying to get around him, Nathanial managed to be in front of me at every turn.
With all his skulking caution, I was surprised when hospital security guards stopped us, not once but twice—clearly human authorities weren't who Nathanial was watching for. Both guards chastised us about being on the floor between visiting hours, but both times Gil talked for awhile, and the guards smiled and let us continue.
After the second walked away, Bobby let out a low whistle. “If I ever need to sneak in someplace, I know who to call."
"Thanks,” she said, stopping to read another sign. “But don't even think about it."
We wove around several more passages, and I jumped as elevator doors opened a couple yards behind me. Two women in blue scrubs stepped into the hall. They walked in the other direction, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. I almost cheered when Gil finally led us into a waiting room. But when I saw the occupants of the room, I decided cheering would be in poor taste.
In the far corner, stationed in uncushioned chairs, a middle-aged couple leaned on each other. Streaks of mascara had dried under the woman's eyes, and the man's hands were clenched tight even in sleep. Not terribly surprising, considering the sign on the door said we'd entered the ICU waiting room.
A red-headed woman sat behind a desk at the front of the room. She peeled bored eyes off her computer screen as we approached. “I'm sorry, but visiting hours are at nine a.m., noon, and six p.m. Only direct family members are allowed to visit patients in this section of the ICU. If you'd like to wait until the next visiting hour, take a seat."
Her nasally voice was loud enough to wake the sleeping couple. They immediately became distraught, fresh tears creating new runnels through the woman's dried mascara and the man looking torn between the need to comfort his wife and the desire to burn off his emotions through movement. I shot an unfriendly look at the receptionist—not that she cared, if her apathetic expression was any hint.
"Allow me to introduce myself,” Gil said brightly, holding out a hand. The woman took it limply. “I'm Gil and these are my colleagues. One of your patients was the victim in a series of crimes we're investigating. I know it's outside of hours, but it's imperative we see the young woman tonight."
I rolled my eyes. No way were we getting in with an excuse like that, true or not.
The receptionist smiled blankly and nodded. She hit something under the counter, and the doors to the unit unlocked with a loud click. Gil marched into the ICU like she owned the place.
The rest of us followed, wide-eyed.
Nathanial stared at her. “That was ... unexpected. What did you do to her?” Nathanial might have plucked the question right out of my mind.
Gil grinned over her shoulder and smiled, but said nothing as we walked past cubicles. She paused outside of each room and examined the charts. At the fifth room, her smile nearly broke her face in two.
"Here we are. Lorna Stixon.” She opened the door, and we filed in behind her.
Gil pulled a canary-yellow curtain back. At first, I didn't see the patient for all the IV's on poles and beeping machines clustered around her.
As we crowded around the bed, I did a double take. “I know this girl."
Gil's head shot up. “What, how?"
"Well, I don't actually know her. But I saw her last night.” I looked at the tangled, pink-and-blue-streaked hair. “She was at a party I went to. By the way, notice that I'm not the only woman with oddly streaked hair in this city."
Nathanial touched my shoulder, expectant. “Did you see who she was with?"
If only it were that easy.
"I only noticed her because she fell in my lap, literally.” I frowned, trying to remember anything useful. The party was a blur in my memory. Not so much from the drug I'd been slipped, but because I hadn't been paying attention.
The door opened behind me, and I jumped, my eyes darting around the small room for a place to hide. Behind the bed? But the quick squeak of sneakers on the floor meant they were already in the room. I whirled around, my eyes wide.
A woman with salt and pepper hair walked in, studying her clipboard. She looked up and gasped, pressing her hand over her chest. “My God, you guys scared me. How'd you get in here? I'm sorry, but the next visiting hour isn't until morning."
The nursed turned to hit a call button by the door, and Gil surged forward. She laid her hand on the nurse's shoulder, and the smallest touch of energy charged the air.
"We'll be out of your way shortly. We're trying to find the monster who did this to Lorna,” Gil said in a sweet voice.
The nurse smiled, her eyes turning vacant. Magic? Probably. But, if I'd have blinked, I would have missed it. Magic would explain the guards compliance, and the waiting-room receptionist. I'd have to ask Gil later.
"Have you been tending to Lorna long?” Gil asked.
The nurse nodded. “Since she got out of surgery eleven hours ago."
"Has she regained consciousness at any point?” Nathanial asked, but the nurse didn't answer.
Gil repeated the question.
"For a little while. She's sedated now. She screams about monsters when she's conscious.” The nurse paused, her smile failing. “Are you police? Some officers questioned her earlier."
"We're investigators. Were you present when the police questioned her? Was she able to name her attacker?"
"She couldn't remember who did this to her. She said she remembered being at a party, but not leaving, and then she went on about a ‘monster.’ She was on a lot of hallucinogens. Aside from the obvious, it's hard to say what really happened."
"What's the obvious?” Gil asked, leading the nurse closer to the bed. The woman followed like a sleepwalker, each step heavy and blind.
At the edge of the bed she stopped and pointed. “Her left arm has a spiral break, her right, two fractures. Her neck is broken, and it's unlikely she'll ever have movement below her shoulders. Three ribs were broken, and a chunk of her right thigh is missing. She also has multiple deep lacerations. The doctors think she has stabilized, but it's a miracle she survived."
I looked at Lorna's sleeping form. Her eyes were swollen shut, her lips busted, and she was in a cast or covered in gauze from the neck down. The rogue had played with her, tortured her. If she survived until the gate opened, and if the rogue's harsh game had tagged her and she became a shifter, she would heal the physical injuries. If not, she would spend the rest of her life paralyzed. Either way the attack would leave her emotionally damaged. Humans ended up on courses of therapy and drugs for something like rape. But if Lorna shifted ... the odds of her retaining her humanity, her sanity after something like this were slim, and insanity in a shifter was a quick recipe for death.
Shaking my head, I walked closer to the nurse. I thought I caught a hint of demon-like decay, but it faded to the menthol scent of cigarettes. I tried to pick the first scent out again, but the more I searched, the more she smelled like an ashtray. I'd had no idea how much I relied on my sense of smell until it'd gone on the fritz.
Wrinkling my nose, I asked, “Did you hear anything else? Did she say what the monster looked like? Where was she found?"
Gil repeated my questions, and the nurse shrugged. “She must've been seeing things. A man did this to her, maybe with the help of others, but not an animal. The police had a sexual assault test done, it came back positive. They found bodily fluids. You'll catch this guy?"
Gil smiled. “We'll try our best. You should check on your other patients now."
The nurse nodded and sleepwalked out the door.
"She didn't tell us where Lorna was found,” Bobby said.
Gil shrugged. “If she'd known, she would have answered. We were lucky she was nosy and listened in on the police interview, or we wouldn't know all we do."
I frowned. I certainly hadn't learned much—except that the rogue was a sadistic bastard, but that wasn't surprising. Rogues and insanity went hand-in-hand. Or at least the one and only rogue I'd ever met had been certifiable. I shivered and wrapped my arms across my chest. I almost thought I could feel the old scars from that meeting through my clothing. “Now what?"