To Dance With the Devil

“I’m glad you’re awake. We’ve been worried about you.” She smiled down at me as she began switching the plastic fluid bags with practiced ease. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was on duty when you and your friend helped us during the M. Necrose outbreak. The zombie you took down in the hall was coming right at me. If you hadn’t stepped in that day, a lot of people would have died. I probably would’ve been one of them.” Her blue eyes locked on mine, her expression serious. “A lot of the nurses were afraid to come in here with you. But I don’t believe you’re going to attack me. You’re stronger than that. I’ve seen it.”

My eyes filled with tears. “God, I hope so.”

She gave me a reassuring smile before adjusting a knob. Fluid flowed freely through one of the tubes into my arm. As the fluid flowed in, consciousness flowed out.

I slept.

10

“Hello.” I opened my eyes at the sound of Alex’s voice. She was sitting in a chair next to my bed. “Up and at ’em, sleeping beauty. I don’t have all day.”

“Hey, Al.”

“Celia.”

“Not exactly beautiful,” I grumbled as I tried to sit up. Of course I couldn’t, because of the restraints, which I’d forgotten about until they brought me up short.

I was dressed now, if you call a hospital gown dressed. It was better than being buck naked, I suppose. Still, the skimpy gown didn’t do much to ward off the chill, and the room was definitely on the cool side. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that before.

I turned my head toward Alex, who looked tired. She was wearing her usual neatly tailored suit and her makeup was understated and perfect, but I could see the dark circles under her eyes and the slight slump to her shoulders.

“Honey, compared to what you looked like a couple of days ago, you’re freaking gorgeous. Although I have to admit it’s a little odd seeing you without eyebrows or lashes.” She forced herself to smile, and while I didn’t have Adriana’s ring, I caught a flash of thought from her. She’d been worried about me, scared I’d be permanently blinded or hideously scarred. Of course she’d never say that out loud. It would violate the unwritten “tough broad” rules.

“I don’t have any eyebrows?”

“Nope. The skin’s grown back, but the hair’s taking longer. You’ve also got a receding hairline.”

“Oh, hell.” I felt tears sting my eyes. Stupid, I suppose. I was alive and not blind or maimed. I was also myself, in full possession of my memories, and not feeling the least bit like munching on my friend. All of these were good things. But my hair.

“Don’t feel too bad. You can already see little spikes where the hair’s growing back in. You’ll probably look perfectly fine before long.”

“When do you think I’ll be out of here?” I hate hospitals. I know they have a benign purpose, but they make me feel trapped and they smell funny. Mostly I worry that if I’m confined for too long, somebody’s going to come up with a way to keep me confined permanently. It’s not paranoia if there really are people out to get you. Since the vampire bite, I’ve had ample proof that there are lots of people after me.

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “They’ve moved you out of the burn unit because you no longer have any open sores, but they want to be sure you’re not a danger to anybody.” She sighed. “You should know there are folks trying to get you declared a monster and put down.”

I started swearing under my breath.

“Not to worry; it isn’t going to happen. You’ve done good in the past and there are lots of people on your side because of that. Bruno’s never farther away than the cafeteria. Your gran’s here, and Queen Lopaka, King Dahlmar, and Queen Adriana have all called regularly. Still, what’s made the most difference is that a bunch of doctors and nurses are on your side. They swear you’re yourself and that you’re going to be fine.” She leaned closer and smiled. “I think so, too.”

Knowing I had support was a huge relief, as was hearing that the medical staff thought I was going to be fine.

I was beyond grateful to the doctors and nurses for speaking up for me. I wasn’t sure I would have if I were in their shoes. I felt better today, much more normal. The bat was there, but in the background. I could control it. But they couldn’t have known that. They’d taken a terrible risk to save me.

“I’ll update you on everything in a minute, but first, I’m here on business. Who did this to you and why? Are you strong enough to work with our sketch artist?”

“There were three males physically present, and another guy via some kind of hologram spell. Two of the ones with me were white, one black.”

She sat up straighter in her chair. I wasn’t surprised. She’s smart enough to put two and two together. Or in this case three and three. Three men had snatched Abigail Andrews off of the street and three had attacked me. Coincidence? Not likely.

“What did they want?”

“To scare me off.”

“Off what?”

“I haven’t got a clue. The only potential client I’ve met with lately is Abigail Andrews. But she didn’t hire me, and like I told you before, she was lying through her teeth the whole time she talked to me.” So whatever that scary man thought I knew, I didn’t.

“All right, we’re going to investigate it thoroughly. There’s a good chance the two incidents are connected, but we’ll keep an open mind just in case they’re not. In the meantime, if you’re willing, I’d like you to work with an artist we’ve got on staff. She’s a telepath—you can just think the images at her and she can draw them.”

“Oh!” I suddenly remembered something else. “I took pictures of them with my cell phone. It’s under the driver’s seat of my car.”

Alex grinned, her eyes actually twinkling a little. “That’ll be great—when we find your car.”

I sighed. “If you find it. It’s probably just so many parts by now.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But we’re still looking. Now, you get some rest. I’ll send the artist over sometime later this afternoon.”

She left and I dozed. My system might have burned through the drugs quickly, but the nurses kept them coming. The next time I opened my eyes, late afternoon sunlight was shining through the open window and my gran was sitting in the chair beside my bed, working at a book of crossword puzzles.

“Gran,” I said hoarsely.

“Celie, you’re awake.” She gave me a huge smile, setting aside the puzzle book. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

“Better than I was.”

“I should think so.” Her expression darkened. “We were all so worried. Your Bruno’s been practically living here at the hospital. I told him to go home and get some rest, but he doesn’t listen.” She shook her head, but she was smiling. “That man really loves you.”

That was quite an admission coming from Gran. She’d never been much of a Bruno fan, even before we broke up all those years ago and he went back to Jersey. Once John Creede had come along, she made it clear that she liked him better.

“John’s stopped by a couple of times, too.”

I nodded.

“Tomorrow they’re transferring you to a regular room and then you can have all the flowers and plants people have been sending. It looks like a regular jungle out at the nurses’ desk.”

She was trying to sound cheerful, but her clothes were rumpled, as if she’d slept in them, and there was a shadow in her eyes that spoke of worries she didn’t want to burden me with.

“What’s wrong, Gran?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Not a thing now that you’re going to be all right.”

She was lying. I could tell. My gran doesn’t lie often, and not at all well. But before I could pursue it, the police sketch artist came through the door and Gran used that as her excuse to take off like a scalded cat.

Officer Alyssa Rivera was small, stocky, and dark-haired, with large dark eyes that took in everything and a soft voice that had just a hint of a Southern drawl. Off duty, I suspected she was a ball of fire. Working, she was all business, and careful, as if she was afraid to hurt me. She set her briefcase on the floor next to the chair by my bed and sat down, taking time to get her equipment set up just so.

“I know it’s going to be difficult, working with such raw memories, but I need you to think of each of the men in turn, in as much detail as you can.”

I concentrated, thinking first of the man in the hologram, the brains behind it all. I felt Alyssa’s mind brush mine carefully, saw her drawing a chalk outline. I was surprised. I’d expected her to use pencils or even charcoal. But she worked with pastels, in color. She had a quick hand and a surprisingly gentle mental touch. It didn’t take her long at all to come up with all four, pictures so accurate they could be framed and used as portraits.

I gave an involuntary shudder, then gave myself a stern mental shake. They were just pictures. Useful pictures, which we would use to find the bastards who had done this to me. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Alyssa paused in returning her art supplies to their case. “What can I help you with?”

That she didn’t know meant that she’d withdrawn from my mind. It was very ethical of her, and I appreciated it quite a bit. “Could you please send copies of those to me electronically? I’d like to have my business partner do an Internet search, see what she can come up with.”

I expected her to say no, to give me a lecture about staying out of it, letting the police do their job. I could see it in her expression. Then she looked at me, her gaze lingering on my missing eyebrows, on the stubble that was all that was left of most of my hair. I could almost see the memories she’d touched in my mind affect her—her lips set in a hard line, eyes darkened to near black. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">