Gavrikov floated away, drawing Clary charging after him. He reached a distance away from me and then with a flash of heat and light he shot back toward me, stopping a foot or so away. “Will you help me?” His voice was different now, laced with a kind of crackling heat, something that sounded far different from human.
“I…” I stopped and looked around, the agents closing in, ringing us. Gavrikov turned and saw them and he burned brighter, as though ready to explode. “No! Wait!” He turned back to me, his head whipping around, the fire burning brighter. I held out my hand. “I’ll help you, but you can’t hurt them! Please! Just go for now, come find me when things have calmed down, I’ll…” I looked at the agents charging closer, Old Man Winter with them.
The air grew colder; I could feel it because I was soaked from the sprinklers and I felt ice start to form on the outside layer of my clothing. “Go!” I said. “Get out of here!”
He looked around once more and the heat blazed hotter around him. A short blast of fire filled the air in front of me, knocking me backward over the window frame. I landed on my back with a wet splash in my room, a stinging pain in the hand I had held out which quickly moved down my wrist and stayed there. My head ached from the landing. I saw a streak of fire trace across the sky like an angry star, flaring in the night until it disappeared.
Faces appeared above me, and I didn’t feel like I could fight my way through all of them or adequately run, so I just lay there. Clary was the first to climb into my room, followed by the rest of M-Squad, then a few agents, all wearing their tactical gear and black masks. One of them pulled his off; it was Zack. He shook his head at me in deep disappointment.
“Yeah, I know. Save it,” I said, feeling surprisingly weak. His disappointment changed in an instant, into something more approaching horror. His mouth was open, his normally handsome face twisted in disgust. “What?”
“Sienna,” he gasped as Old Man Winter appeared in view above me with the others. “Your hand.”
I looked down at my hand, the one I had extended toward Gavrikov, but it had nearly vanished, all the way to the wrist. There was no flesh, no muscle, no connective tissue left—only bone, scorched, blackened and bare.
Chapter 18
They took me to the medical unit, where no one spoke to me, not even Dr. Perugini. The rest of them were just quiet, but Perugini was irritable and glared at me constantly, in addition to giving me the silent treatment. She injected something into my other arm and I didn’t stop her, mostly because M-Squad was standing around watching me. Before my eyelids fluttered and I drifted off, I reflected that I wouldn’t be surprised if I woke up in a confinement cell. Whenever they allowed me to wake up.
I came to still in a bed in the medical unit. The room was dark, and there was not a sign of anyone else, even in the dim light. A machine to my right was beeping every few seconds. My hand hurt, which was funny because it wasn’t there the last time I checked. My mouth was dry and my arms were restrained, a large steel bar locked into place across my upper body and another at my waist. My hands were pinned beneath them so that I couldn’t even get enough leverage to move them a half inch. My right hand, the one that was missing, was encased in a box of some kind, but it was difficult to see with the bar across my abdomen.
Also, I had an itch on my nose and had to pee worse than I’ve ever had to before.
I didn’t want to say anything, but those two urgent needs brought words to my lips faster than anything else could have. “Hello?” I was hesitant, almost as if I was afraid of who would answer.
The door to Dr. Perugini’s office opened and she stepped out, her hair pulled back. I heard the click of her high heeled shoes on the floor and when she got close enough, saw the weariness in her eyes as she stifled a yawn. “I’ve grown so tired of you I can’t help but fall asleep in your presence.”
“I’ve grown tired of being here, Doc.” I chafed under the bands keeping me in the bed. “When can I leave?” I felt tension as I waited for her answer.
I was surprised when it was hysterical laughter. She bent double, hand over her face, clutching at her sides. After a few minutes, she stopped, letting out one last chuckle (that I suspected was fake) and turned serious, looking daggers at me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice rising, “it takes a while to REGROW AN ENTIRE HAND!” She shook her head self-righteously and took a needle out of her pocket.
“Hold up,” came a voice from the door. I looked past her as she turned and saw Dr. Zollers standing there, hands folded over his sweater vest. “Don’t administer that just yet.” He walked over to the bed and looked me over. “Living a little rough, Sienna?”
“What can I say? I live a hard-knock life.” There was a steady, thrumming pain coming from my missing hand. I had a suspicion that I was getting some new nerve growth.
Zollers chuckled. “I wasn’t even talking about that. I was talking about the personality conflict you’ve got going on inside. You know, you versus the beast within?” He leaned closer. “It’d be a hard thing, living your life when you’ve got Wolfe in your head.”
I blinked at him in disbelief, and I felt all the blood drain from my face. “How did you know?”
“Old Man Winter told me,” he said, straightening back up. Perugini watched him with a glare and he smiled at her. “He’s suspected for a while now. But thanks for confirming it.”
“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” I said. I felt the slow gut-wrench of fear settle over me. If they weren’t going to lock me away before for aiding Gavrikov, this would surely do it. “I figured you’d all think I was crazy—or worse. And when he started taking over my body—”
“You should have said something.” He pulled out a needle of his own and pulled the cap off it with his teeth. “We might be able to control him with medication. Or some dog treats.” He smiled.
“So that’s what makes a good headshrinker,” Dr. Perugini said with a roll of her eyes, “an overdeveloped sense of irony and a willingness to engage in psychopharmacology.
“That and a bitchin’ sweater vest collection.” He tugged on the front of his outfit. “You like?”
Dr. Perugini snorted in disgust. “She’s in a lot of pain. She needs something to help with that.”
He raised an eyebrow at her then looked down at me in the bed. “Pain she can deal with, I think. Crazy is a whole different problem, and typically more serious. Make no mistake, having Wolfe as a mental hitchiker means you are opened up to all sorts of crazy.”
I gulped. “Will this make him go away?”
“I doubt it,” Zollers said. “This is just gonna take the edge off a little. It’s called Chloridamide. It’s a low-grade antipsychotic; it hasn’t quite passed the FDA yet, but I think it’ll be just the thing to keep you calm for a bit while we work out what to do.”
I smiled weakly. “Any side effects?”
He shrugged. “Nausea, vomiting, burning while urinating, blood loss, diarrhea, liver failure, renal failure, heart failure, cancer, tumors, paralysis-”
“Nice.” I faked a smile. “You’re joking, right?”
He laughed. “Wouldn’t matter if I was serious. You’re a meta, you shrug off all that stuff.” He took a sterile swab from Dr. Perugini and rubbed it along my arm where my sleeve was rolled up. “Except the burning while urinating. That would probably still sting.”
“There’s a cautionary tale in there somewhere,” I said, sarcasm tingeing my words. “How did Old Man Winter know I was carrying around Wolfe with me?”
Zollers smiled again as he injected the needle in my arm. “You’re not the first succubus to cross his path. I think he’s playing things a little close to the vest, though. Big surprise, coming from him, right?” The last words were delivered with unrepentant sarcasm. “But as he is the boss, that’s his prerogative, I suppose.”