To Dance with the Devil

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.

“I’ll be happy to.”

As she left, Bruno came in. He kissed me gently and told me how glad he was that I was awake and that I was going to be okay. I really wanted to talk with him, but I was worn out. Just the small effort of dealing with the sketch artist had completely exhausted me, and while Bruno was still saying loving things, I fell asleep.

When I woke again, I was in a regular hospital room with pale yellow walls and an actual window. Every flat surface was covered with lots and lots of flowers and plants. I was no longer restrained, thank God, but a security camera was mounted on the wall so they could keep track of me. Still, no restraints, woot. I could tell it was morning from the angle of the light and the smell of breakfast, which mingled with the floral scents that filled the room. Glancing around, I spotted what had to be the breakfast tray on the rolling cart near my bed. I was wondering how it had gotten there without anyone waking me when I heard the sound of familiar footsteps outside my door.

I could tell it was John Creede from the scent of his favorite cologne, not to mention the warmth of his magic as he tested the wards on the door before opening it.

When he came in he looked … controlled, everything held carefully in check, his handsome face nothing more than a pleasant mask. He wore an expensive business suit that spoke eloquently of Isaac’s custom tailoring. I was willing to bet he was carrying plenty of weapons, hospital regulations be damned.

“John!” I didn’t bother to keep the surprise and delight from my voice. Our breakup a few months ago had been more than a little bit bitter, but I’d missed him. I don’t regret choosing Bruno, but I’ll always care about John.

“Celia, you’re up … and looking quite a lot better.”

Oh, shit. Gran had said he’d been here, but I hadn’t really thought about him having seen me like that. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

He must have sensed how stricken I was, because he sat down and started talking. His first question wasn’t a question at all. It was more an order. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

I told him. As I did, I could feel his anger building, filling the room like water fills a cup. Interestingly, while Bruno’s rage is scalding hot, John’s is icy. Still deadly, but different. Then again, they’re very different men.

“John…” I paused, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry about Mexico.” I wasn’t sorry I’d fired him. He’d undermined me with the clients—which was totally unacceptable—and doubted my capabilities, which was hurtful as hell. But I could have handled it better, and I was damned sorry about some of the hateful things I’d said during our big fight.

He gave me a rueful grin and took my hand in his. “No. I’m sorry. I was out of line.” He sighed. “I’m not used to being second banana. I’m not very good at it.” His eyes met mine, his expression dead serious. “When I learned you’d missed the last flight out…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. He’d been sure they’d killed me.

I wasn’t insulted by that. My trip into the tunnels had been a last-ditch escape plan with maybe a five percent chance of success—success being survival. I’d made it out, with the last of the MagnaChem employees I’d gone down there to rescue. But it hadn’t been easy or pretty, and the two people who’d been escorting us had died.

I was saved an answer by the sound of whispered voices arguing outside my door. My expression must have shown that I was listening to something, because John gave me a questioning look. My vampire hearing had given me advance notice.

“Company’s coming,” I said with a smile. “Dawna and Chris.”

They were still in the hall, but I could hear every word. I held up a finger to stop John talking and eavesdropped shamelessly.

“You’re being ridiculous, Chris,” Dawna hissed.

His voice rose in both volume and pitch. “Ridiculous? Seriously? She nearly died. She could’ve been permanently maimed—would’ve been, if it weren’t for those stupid gulls of hers. And she’s supernatural. You’re not. These people are playing for keeps.”

Dawna was firm, her voice steady and calm. I knew her well enough to know that Chris was on dangerous ground. When she’s irritated, Dawna will raise her voice and argue. When she gets quiet and calm, she’s seriously angry. “I’m just going to be working in the office, sitting behind a computer and doing a few meetings. There’s nothing dangerous about that.”

“Her last office—your last office—was blown up, remember? No, I want you out of it. It’s much too dangerous.”

“No.”

“No?” He kept his voice quiet, but his whisper was the equivalent of a shout.

“No,” Dawna repeated. Then she turned the knob and opened the door, effectively ending the conversation. “John, you’re here!”

“Just leaving,” he said. He gave my hand a squeeze and rose. “I’m glad you’re doing so much better, Graves.” His voice was gruff. Then, to my exasperation, he ruined the moment by saying, “Try to stay out of trouble.”

He was out the door before I could give the answer I thought he deserved.

Dawna took John’s place beside the bed. She was smiling broadly enough to light up the room, the tension of her argument with Chris vanished as if nothing had happened. She’s a great actress. I knew she was glad to see me and thrilled I was better. She was also probably glad to see that John and I were speaking again. She’s a definite Creede fan.

Her problems with Chris were real and painful, but if she didn’t want to share them, it wasn’t my place to push. I had no clue what to say anyway.

She sank into the chair as Chris sullenly clunked a floral arrangement in with the others on the windowsill. He turned to me. “Glad you pulled through, Graves. I need some coffee. Either of you want anything from the cafeteria?” His voice was gruff and his face was flushed, but at least he was trying to be polite.

“I’d love a can of Pepsi. They won’t bring me one before lunch no matter how nicely I ask.” I knew that from my last visit. I smiled at him.

“That’s ’cause it’s bad for you.” He snorted. “All right, one Pepsi coming up. Dawna?”

“Get me a Dr Pepper, please?”

“No problem.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Back in a few.”

She sighed as the door closed behind him, her expression an odd mixture of frustration, anger, and deep sadness.

“You okay?” I asked.

She sighed again. “Not really. But I don’t want to talk about it. Where’s Bruno? He’s practically been camped out here.”

“I’m pretty sure he went home to shower and shave.”

“Makes sense. He probably also has to arrange to have El Jefe cover a couple more of his classes.”

“Warren’s covering for him?”

“Yup, and Dr. Sloan and some of the others. Bruno said there were plenty of volunteers when everybody in the department heard what had happened.”

That was so nice. “When did you talk to Bruno?”

“Oh, one of the times I came to visit. They wouldn’t let anyone actually in to see you, but a lot of us came by anyway, to check on you. The desk nurse was talking about how many friends you have.”

Aw, that made me feel so good. Not good enough to want to stay and soak up sympathy, but good. “Anybody give you a clue how soon I can get out of here?” I asked.

“Nope. Sorry.”

“Damn it.”

“Relax, Celie,” Dawna ordered. “You need to heal. I can take care of the work stuff. Your gran and Bruno will take care of the rest.”

“Speaking of work, did you get a chance to check out your cousin?”

“Talia.” She supplied the name for me and nodded. “Everything I could find checked out. She could be a real asset.”

There was something in her tone of voice …

“But?”

“I just can’t get past that whole thing when we were kids. I know it’s stupid—”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not. People are who they are. They can change … but only if they’re willing to work at it and they really want to.” I firmly believed that, which was why I had so little hope for my mother. She didn’t want to change and she was practically allergic to hard work.

I shoved that thought away, focusing on the problem at hand. “Okay,” I suggested, “what if we hire her on a probationary basis, the same as we’re doing with Kevin? If she doesn’t work out, I’ll fire her. You can tell your family it’s all my fault, so you won’t get in hot water with them. I can take the heat.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure.” I gave her a so-sweet-it’ll-rot-your-teeth grin.

“What?” she asked, rightfully suspicious.

“But you get the honors if we have to fire Kevin.”

“Oh … oh, hell.”

“Agreed?”

She gave me a sour look, but agreed.

We chatted for quite a while. I took a look at the breakfast tray and sighed. Liquids. Not even thick liquids. No baby food. I drank it, but I wasn’t thrilled. Still, by the time Chris returned, Dawna was in a great mood, laughing and telling me stories about office spaces she’d looked at and some of the new applicants, whose résumés were completely not what we needed on staff. We agreed that if we hadn’t found the “perfect” office in another month, we’d rent something on an interim basis. Not having an official place of business was getting old.

Chris had put the time away from us to good use as well. He wasn’t nearly as surly as he’d been when he’d left to get the drinks. Still, they didn’t stay long after he came back.

As the door closed behind them, I wondered if they’d be able to work through their problems. I hoped so. But I wouldn’t put money on it.