He was joking, right? A soothing wash poured over my body, like water over all my stinging wounds.
Marvin the medic with the magic was very much not joking. I’d never had a Siphon set on me before, but I could feel the gentle lessening, ever so slowly, of the pain in my body-different from Zayvion’s touch. Marvin was good. Very good.
“That your boyfriend?” he asked.
And it was such an utterly normal question, the kind of question you asked in an everyday sort of situation, not in a warehouse full of bloody, dead, and dying people situation, that I smiled, even though it made my mouth hurt. “Think so,” I said.
Marvin leaned in a little closer. “Well, just so you know, he looks really worried about you,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “But he doesn’t need to be. I got you covered. What’s your favorite flower?”
“What?”
“I’ll make sure he brings you some when you wake up.”
“Oh,” I said. I was already feeling drowsy, but not in an overwhelming way. Just a soft, comforting, it-was-okay-to-let-go-now-way. “Roses,” I said, even though my favorite flowers were iris. “Pink roses.”
And then sleep-real sleep-found me.
Chapter Nineteen
I didn’t remember getting to the hospital, but when I woke, I was cleaner, wearing a hospital gown and hospital bracelet, and was tucked into a hospital bed. An IV line ran to my arm, and the soft blue lacework of Marvin the magical medic’s Siphon spell hung from a special glass and lead glyph-worked arm of the IV stand. Threads of the Siphon spell ran alongside the IV tube to my arm and then spread out to settle over my chest.
Marvin had done a great job on the spell. It pulsed with my natural heartbeat and made my injuries hurt a whole lot less. Even my head felt clearer.
But apparently Marvin had forgotten to tell Zayvion to bring me flowers.
Or Zayvion hadn’t wanted to. There wasn’t a single pink rose in the room.
From the light coming in through the small window, I guessed it was morning. Still? I glanced at the clock on the wall. Seven o’clock.
Wow. I’d slept all the way through the day and the night to the day again.
I still ached-inside and out-but the combination of painkillers and Siphon kept it at a distance. I did, however, really need to pee.
I pushed the blankets off, got a glimpse at my legs-still covered in fingerprint burns with some kind of cream that smelled like a diaper rash ointment smeared over them. I pulled my IV stand, IV bag, Siphon, and all, with me as I walked on feet that were still a little swollen into the bathroom.
I made use of the facilities, and as I was washing my hands in tepid water, I heard someone come into my room. Hopefully a nurse. I wanted to go home, take a real shower, and crawl into my real bed.
I walked out of the bathroom.
It was not the nurse.
Davy Silvers stood uncertainly in my room. He had on clean clothes-jeans and a denim jacket with a hoodie beneath it. He had both his hands in his pockets. But even though he’d had a chance to take a shower, the dark circles and bloodshot eyes told me he had gotten less sleep than I.
“Hey,” I said as I limped over to my bed. “What are you doing here?” I felt stupid wearing a hospital gown in front of him, so I pulled the covers back over me again.
“Came to see if you’re okay. You know.” He shrugged.
“I’ve been here all night, haven’t I?”
He pulled a chair away from the wall, sat. “Yes.”
“Have you been here all night?”
“Not all night.”
“Davy,” I said. “I appreciate you watching my back when I Hounded for Stotts. And… and yesterday morning. With… Pike. But you don’t have to do that any more.”
He leaned the length of his forearms on his knees and clenched his fingers together. “Pike told me to look after you.”
“For one night. One night, Davy, no more.”
“Hounds stick together,” he said stubbornly. “Watch each other’s backs.”
“Sure. When we’re Hounding.”
“That’s not what Pike said. And it’s not what he would want.”
“Davy…”
He just gave me a long stubborn look. I so didn’t feel like arguing with him. He’d been crying. And from the set of his jaw and tension in his shoulders, I knew he was angry enough to fight me for this. For his memory of Pike and what Pike wanted from him.
Hells. I was angry about everything too. The image of Pike’s mutilated face flashed through my mind, and I pressed my fingers carefully against my eyes to try to free myself of it.
“I swear, Davy, if I see you peeking in my windows at night, I will call the cops on you.”
“That’s fair,” he said. Though whether he meant it was fair that he not peek in at me, or that I not catch him doing it, I wasn’t sure.
“Later,” I said, “when things get… straightened out, I want to call a Hound meeting again. Do you have everyone’s numbers?”
He nodded. “Did you see him do it?”
“Who?”
“Trager. Did you see him kill Pike?”
And there was that vengeful tone again. I tried to line up my memories of the day. “No. Pike had already left Trager’s office. He killed six of Trager’s men. Mostly killed Trager too.”
“And you finished him.”
I swallowed back a mix of anger and nausea. I’d never killed anyone before. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable thinking of myself in that way. Still, Davy needed to hear the truth. And I needed to hear it too. “Yes. I killed him.”
Davy nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “If you hadn’t, I would have.” And he suddenly looked much older, much more determined and cold than he had when he walked in the room a minute ago. “When you’re ready, I’ll call the meeting.”
“Not today,” I said.
He stood. “Anytime. We’ll be there.” He reached over and touched the back of my hand. I was a little surprised, because Hounds didn’t do that, didn’t leave their scent behind with anyone. “Feel better, okay?”
“I will. Thanks.”
Davy Silvers strode out of my room, shoulders stiff, hands in fists. Pike’s death had done something to that young man, changed him in a deep way. Probably changed both of us. I just hoped it hadn’t done either of us permanent damage.
I took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away. I wanted to go home. Take a shower for about a year then crawl into my bed and sleep the rest of my life away.
I pressed the call button for the nurse. I knew I had to make a statement to the police. Tell them what I knew about Trager, starting with him jumping me on the bus. And I knew I’d have to explain everything that had happened in Trager’s office and the warehouse. I wondered if they’d consider me stabbing Trager as he stabbed me self-defense?
I tried to track my memories about what had happened in the warehouse and had that empty feeling I get when I realize I was missing memories. Anthony had been there-hurt-an unwilling Proxy for Frank Gordon’s magic. And I remembered the six kidnapped girls and their ghosts tied by dark magic to their bodies.
And there had been more happening, some reason Frank was doing all that.
But like something had been pulled just out of my reach, I could not quite remember what else, or maybe who else, had been in that warehouse with me.
What I did know was I had used a lot of magic. And I hadn’t set Disbursements. Which meant magic beat its price out of me any way it wanted. It had caused swelling, bruises, and I was pretty sure it had burned away some of my memories too. My hand itched for my blank notebook. I looked around the room. There was a plastic bag of clothes on the table by the wall, but I just couldn’t bring myself to go digging in that bag. Not even for my notebook.