White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7)

White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7) Page 13

My curls were nearly dry, and moving irritatingly slowly, I used the comb in the hospital care kit to try to smooth out the tangles. The shampoo and cream rinse had been from the kit as well, and I wasn't eager to find out how much cracking the thumb-size bottles was going to cost me. I was betting five bucks a bottle. It was worse than the amenities fridge in a five-star hotel. But asking Ivy to run home and get my stuff wasn't going to happen. The less I was carting out of here, the less likely someone would realize I was a fleeing patient.

Before the Turn, you could ask for an AMA, or Against Medical Advice discharge, and be done with it. But after the quickly spreading pandemic had ravaged the population, legislation gleefully took away a lot of patients' rights. Unless you did the paperwork ahead of time, it took forever and a day to get an AMA. If I wanted to leave, I had to sneak out. I'd likely have cops after me as the hospital tried to protect themselves from a lawsuit, but they'd go away once the AMA came in.

My shower this evening had tragically turned from the expected forty-minute indulgence in someone else's hot water into a five-minute rush; the force of the water beating into me had made me dizzy, giving me the sensation that I was washing my aura off with the soap. But I now sat reasonably comfortably on the hard couch by the night-dark window, dressed in the clothes Ivy had brought over: jeans and a black sweater she had complimented me on the first time I'd worn it.

I'd thought a hot shower would be just the thing, but the activity turned into an exercise in learning how fast I could move. Or couldn't move, rather. My aura was uncomfortably thin, and every time I shifted quickly, I seemed to lose my equilibrium. I got cold, too. Oddly so. Almost an ache. Weird, Glenn had said. That was the word for it.

Giving up, I flicked the comb into the trash and wondered if anyone had bothered to tell Pierce what had happened and that I was all right. Probably not. It was drafty by the window, and when I peeked past the curtain, the gleam of the red and white car lights against the snow made it seem all the colder.

I reached to put on my coat and found a new scrape on the right sleeve. Crap. Frowning, I shrugged into it, carefully levered my boots onto the couch, and sat with my arms wrapped around my knees. My smiling giraffe was sitting across from me, and memories came creeping back, memories of me sitting like this waiting for my dad to get better or die, older memories of me waiting for my mom to come pick me up and take me home. Sighing, I dropped my chin onto my knees.

My mom and Robbie had visited earlier. Mom had been shocked when I told her it was a banshee attack, and Robbie predictably went off the deep end. His exact words involved hell and an ice storm, but he'd never approved of my career choice, so what he cared didn't matter. I loved him, but he was a prick when it came to trying to make me fit into his ideas of what I should be. He'd left when I was thirteen, and I would always be thirteen in his mind.

At least when Marshal found out I'd be sneaking out tonight, he'd asked if he could help. After seeing him take down Tom, I was of a mind to accept his offer, but I was holding him in reserve in case I had to flee my "safe house" for a new one once the AMA police came after me.

The almost unheard squeak of the oversize door drew my attention across the dimly lit room and I lifted my head. It was Ivy and Jenks, and I smiled and put my feet on the floor. Jenks reached me first, the slight dust from him leaving a faint trail in the dark room.

"You ready?" he said, buzzing around my damp hair before shunning my shoulder. He was wearing Matalina's latest attempt at pixy winter wear, and the poor guy had so much blue fabric wrapped around him he could hardly put his arms down.

"Just have to tie my boots," I said as I shoved the giraffe into my bag next to Bis's carved rose; I'd take it after all. "Are we set with Keasley?"

Ivy nodded as I sent my fingers among my laces. The cops would check the church. My mom's house was out, too, even if I wanted to put up with Robbie's pointed barbs, but Keasley could put us up for a few days. Ceri was spending much of her time in the Kalamack compound, and I knew he'd enjoy the company as well as the full pantry we'd leave him with.

Ivy was wearing her long leather coat over a pair of jeans and a brown sweater. I knew it was her attempt to try to blend in, but she could wear a discount special and still turn heads. She had put on some makeup, and her hair was pulled back. Apparently she was growing it out again, and the gold highlights had been colored over. Concern flickered in her dark eyes as she approached, her pupils dilated from the low light, not hunger. I'd be worried that she was vamping out from stress, but vampires treated the ill and wounded with an eerie gentleness. I think it was an instinct that evolved to help keep them from killing their chosen lovers by accident. The last place a vampire would sate themselves was a hospital.

She stood before me, evaluating my fatigue with her hand on her hip as I puffed over my boots. "Are you sure you don't want any Brimstone?" she asked, and I shook my head. Brimstone would up my metabolism, but I'd probably hurt myself when I felt better than I really was. My metabolism wasn't the problem. It was my damaged aura, and nothing could replace that but time.

"No," I emphasized when she frowned. "You didn't slip me any, did you?"

"No. God, Rachel, I do respect you."

She was glaring, so I figured she was telling me the truth. Ivy's subtle motions had a layer of hurt to them, and when Jenks clacked his wings at me I added, "Maybe later. Once I get out of here. Thanks."

That seemed to satisfy her, and I stood up, jamming my hands into my coat pockets and unexpectedly finding Robbie's plane tickets. Feeling sour after his scorn this afternoon concerning my chosen profession, I pulled the envelope out to stuff it in my bag. The banshee tear that had been in there as well came flying out, arcing through the air.

"Got it," Jenks called, then, realizing what it was, he yelped and jerked back so the tear hit the floor and skittered under the bed. "Is that the banshee tear Edden gave you?" he squeaked, unusually shaken, and I nodded. Ivy beat me to the floor, giving Jenks a dry look before she peered under the bed and retrieved it.

"It's clear again," she said, eyes wide as she rose and dropped it into my palm.

"Oh, that is just freaky." Uncomfortable, I held it in a shaft of incoming streetlight.

The small pixy hovered over my fingers, his wings a harsh blur. "That's it, Rache," he said, floating up to look me eye to eye. "The tear is why you survived, not your demon marks. The baby found the tear-"

"And took her bottle instead of me," I said, my relief absolute that it hadn't been my demon marks that had saved me. "It felt like something black was being pulled through me. I though it was the smut on my aura." Shuddering, I dropped the tear in my bag, vowing to take it out when we got home. "Maybe that's how Remus is staying alive," I muttered.

Ivy's face went almost terrifyingly blank. I looked at her in question, and feeling cold, I said, "Jenks, see if Glenn is ready."

"You got it," the oblivious pixy said, and he darted under the one-inch gap between the door and the floor.

I sank back to sit on the bed, arms crossed as I looked at Ivy, a shadow against the dark window. "You, ah, want to share something with me?" I asked.

Ivy took a slow breath. Exhaling, she sat in the corner of the long couch and looked at the ceiling, at nothing. "This is my fault," she said, her eyes black as they came back to me. "Mia going on a killing rampage to engender a child, I mean."

"You," I said. "How?"

Her hair swung forward to hide her face. "I gave her my wish. The one you gave me."

I uncrossed my arms and recrossed them the other way. "You mean from the leprechaun I let go to get out of the I.S.?" She nodded, head down, and I squinted, not understanding. "You gave your wish to a banshee? Why? You could have wished for anything!"

Ivy shifted her shoulders. It was a nervous reaction I didn't see often. "It was sort of a thank-you. I owed her a lot. I met Mia before I met you. My boss, Art, he was jerking me around. I was on the fast track, but he wasn't going to promote me out from under him until..." She hesitated, and in her silence, I heard her unsaid words. Her boss wanted a taste of her before letting her rise above him. I felt myself warm, and I was glad the room was dark.

"Office politics," Ivy said, her shoulders rounding. "I didn't want to play them. Thought I was too good to have to, and when I caught Art trying to cover up a banshee murder to help boost his bank account, I called Mia in to find out what was going on. At that point, she worked with the I.S. policing her species. Long story short, I put Art in jail to get out from under him. And I thought I had it bad in the I.S. At least I didn't have to frame my supervisor to move ahead."

"And got busted down to babysitting me," I said, embarrassed, and Ivy shook her head, leaning forward into a shaft of light. There were no tears, but she looked unhappy.

"No. I mean yes, but, Rachel, the woman told me some things about myself I was too afraid to admit. You know how banshees are. They tell you hard truths just to get you angry so they can eat your emotions, and she pissed me off by telling me I was afraid to be the person I wanted to be, someone capable of loving someone else. She shamed me into going off blood."

"God, Ivy," I said, still not believing she had given her wish to a...banshee! "You thought going off blood was a good thing? It nearly drove you insane."

Her eyes were black in the reduced light of midnight, and I stifled a shiver. "It wasn't the lack of blood that was driving me insane," she said. "And it was a good thing. The strength and confidence I gained from it was all I had to fight Piscary with. It gave me the will I use every day. Mia said-" Ivy hesitated, then softer, she said with an old anger, "Mia called me a coward, saying that she couldn't love anyone without killing them and that I was a whining child for having the chance to love someone but not the courage to do so. And when I met you?" Ivy shrugged. "When I realized you might love me back...maybe? Make my life clean somehow?" Embarrassed, she rubbed her temples. "I gave her my wish so she could have the chance to love someone, too. It's my fault she's out there killing people."

"Ivy," I said softly, frozen where I sat. "I'm sorry. I do love you."

"Stop," she said, holding out a slim hand as if to halt my words. "I know you do." She looked at me, jaw clenched and enough anger in her gaze to keep me from moving. "Piscary was right." She laughed bitterly, and I felt cold. "The bastard was right all along. But I was right, too. If Mia hadn't shamed me into it, I wouldn't have found the courage to screw Art over and let myself love you."

"Ivy." Oh God, Ivy never opened up like this voluntarily. She must have been really scared about me last night.

"You're like a master vampire, you know that?" Ivy pushed herself to the corner of the couch and stared at me, almost angry. "You scare the ever-loving crap out of me even as I want to wrap myself up in your soul and be safe. I'm sick, wanting what scares me."

"I don't want to hurt you," I offered, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"You have hurt me," she said, arms around her drawn-up knees and her chin high. "You will again. I don't care. That's the sick part. That's why I don't touch you anymore. I'm addicted to your little white lies. I want love, but I can't live with myself if I make you hurt me again. I don't want pain to feel like love. It's not supposed to."

The memory of Farcus playing on my scar lifted through me. Too close. He'd been too close. Used me like a match to light his own libido. Pain turned to pleasure-was it truly perverted if it really felt good? "I'm sorry, Ivy. I can't give any more," I whispered.

Ivy turned to the window, shifting the curtain to look outside. "I'm not asking you to, scaredy-cat," she said mildly, and I saw the signs as she closed her emotions down again. "Don't worry. I like things the way they are. I didn't tell you this to guilt you into anything; I just thought you ought to know why Mia Harbor has a husband who is immune to a banshee's attack. I gave her the wish because I owed her. She gave me the courage to fight for what I wanted. Whether I get it or not is immaterial. The only way I could thank her was to give her the chance to love. And I think she loves him. As much as a banshee can."

My hands were clenched on my arms with enough strength to cramp them, and I let go. "She loves a freaking serial killer," I said, glad the conversation had swung away from us.

Ivy smiled wanly in the streetlight. Her hand dropped from the curtain, and the shadow hid her face again. "That doesn't make it any less. Holly isn't special. Remus is. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have given it to her. I had no idea she'd use it to kill people. For all her strength, she's a monster. I owe her, but I'm still going to bring her in."

Standing, I reached out to draw her to her feet, wanting to hug her so she'd lose that awful stiffness. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know what she was going to do. No good deed and all."

"It's still my fault."

My hand touched her shoulder, and I drew back when Jenks shot under the door in a glittering of silver sparkles that left a steady stream behind as he rose up to our height. "Glenn's in the hall," he said, unusually bright-eyed in the dim room.

"Good," I said faintly, turning to get my bag. My face was warm, and I put a hand to it.

"Uh," the pixy said, hovering uncertainly in the dark. "Did I miss something?"

Ivy took my bag from me, having to jerk it free. "No," she said, then turned to me. "Stay here and I'll get you a chair."

"No you won't." She had confused me, and I didn't know how to stop her from pushing me around right now. "A chair wasn't in the plan," I added. "I can walk it."

"You're wobbling on your feet," Ivy said, and I shook my head. This was a decision I was going to stick with.

"I can't sneak out in a wheelchair," I said, eyes on the ground until I was sure it wasn't tilting. "I have to walk. Really, really slowly."

Jenks hovered before us, looking like Lawrence of Arabia with wings. "No way, Rache," he started, his eyes crinkled in worry. "You're as strong as a fairy's hard-on."

"I can make it," I breathed, hesitated, then shook my head. Nice one, Jenks. My head was down as I started for the door, and my thoughts were on my laundry list: Bargain with Al for the time off; reconstruct the charm to give Pierce temporary substance; remind Marshal that we weren't going to move our relationship along simply because one, I'd gotten hurt, two, he'd beaten Tom, and three, we'd had a nice dinner with my family. I also had to try making that locator charm again, not to mention, to get a lead on Kisten's killer, look through the records to track down everyone Piscary had bled or bedded during his jail time. I could do it. I could do it all. How am I going to do this?

Jenks was flying backward in front of me as I moved from couch, to bed, to wardrobe, gauging my aura, no doubt. It was irritating to say the least. "Tell Glenn we're on our way?" I asked, slapping at Ivy when she threatened to help me inch along.

"Already did." Jenks landed on my shoulder, puffing from the constant weight of his clothes. "You owe him big, Rachel. He was scheduled to be released tomorrow."

I clutched my bag and looked at Ivy, squashing my guilt. "Then let's go."

Ivy nodded. Touching my shoulder once, she headed out. "See you in the elevator, Rache," Jenks said, then darted out before the oversize door swung shut behind her.

Alone, I let myself lean against the wall, exhausted. I was breathing heavy and moving slow. That wasn't a problem. I could do this. I had done this lots of times, actually, with my mom when I wanted to go home and the AMA hadn't come in yet.

Sneaking out of the hospital is like riding a bike, I thought as I listened to Ivy talking to the nurse at the desk. Then I remembered that I'd never learned to ride a bike either.

"Elevator," I whispered, cementing it as my goal. I could rest there. Ride up and down until I felt like walking out. I waited by the almost-closed door, eavesdropping. It was about midnight, and since I was on a human floor, it was quiet. Perfect.

"Get a nurse!" someone shouted, and I heard a clang as something hit a wall. Jenks started shrieking, and I edged forward to peek through the crack in the door. There was a distant masculine groan, and a heavy orderly rushed past, his dreadlocks swinging.

I eased the door open with my weight, shivering when it felt like the varnished wood was stealing the heat from me right through my coat. I looked to the right, following the sound of the commotion, smiling at Glenn, on the floor at the end of the hall. Ivy was there with Jenks, two orderlies, and a nurse. The guy who delivered the food was there, too.

As I watched, Glenn groaned convincingly, cracking an eye to see me. I gave him a bunny-eared, kiss-kiss, and he flipped me off, turning his smile into a pained moan. Jenks was right; I owed him big.

Pulse racing, I hobbled to the elevator around the corner. I didn't even have to go by the nurses' desk. My pace slowly became more sure and my posture upright, while fighting the fatigue and mild sensation of walking in deep snow and trying to look as if I was sedate, not sedated.

I turned the corner, and the noise behind me grew faint. The hallway was empty, but I didn't dare use the waist-high handrail. Besides, the elevator was just ahead. I pushed the button, then pushed it again until the light went on.

Almost immediately the doors opened, and my heart jumped when a couple stepped out. They gave me a cursory glance, then perked up at the noise Glenn was making. Curiosity was winning when I staggered to the back of the lift and propped myself up in the corner, my bag clutched to me. The more quickly I moved, the worse I felt. Which really stunk, seeing as I was in a turtle's footrace for the door.

I took shallow breaths and stared at the couple's backs as the doors slid shut. Jenks. Where are you? You said you'd be here.

The pixy darted in at the last moment, nearly crashing into the back of the elevator.

"Rache!" he said in excitement, and vertigo hit me when I flung my hands over my ears.

"Not so loud!" I exclaimed, and he dropped to hover at eye level.

"Sorry," he said, looking anything but. He followed my weary gaze to the dark panel, then flew at it, hitting the button for the next level down feet first. I heard the whine of electronics click over, and we started to descend.

"Glenn is good," he said as he returned to land on my shoulder. "I don't think they'll know you're gone until they get someone to take him back to his room."

"Excellent." I closed my eyes against the vertigo. I'd been afraid the elevator might move too fast to stomach, but I couldn't take the stairs even if my aura was dragging behind me as we descended.

"You doin' okay?" he asked, worry thick in his tone.

"Yep," I said, propped in the corner. "It's just fatigue." I squinted to get him into focus, and then the world snapped back when the elevator dinged and the rest of my aura caught up. I took a breath, letting it slip slowly from me. "I've got things to do today, and I can't do them lazing around in a bed that moves up and down."

He laughed, and I pushed from the wall when the doors opened. If all was going well, it would be Ivy, and I didn't want her to think I was a wimp.

Ivy was standing right before the doors, and giving me a glance, she darted in and clicked the button to close the doors. "Everything okay?" she asked.

"Peachy."

Ivy exchanged a look with Jenks and hit the "lobby" button with a series of taps so rapid that they were almost indistinguishable from each other. A little nervous, are we?

The descent was worse this time, and I closed my eyes and leaned back in the corner as the elevator picked up speed, going almost the full height of the building.

"Rache, you all right?" Jenks asked, and I wiggled my fingers, too afraid of what might happen if I nodded. My stomach hurt.

"Too fast," I breathed, worried about the ride home. I was going to be blowing chunks if we had to drive faster than twenty miles an hour.

I started to shiver, and I clutched my bag to me, feeling every muscle I had clench when the lift lurched to a stop. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Relieved, I opened my eyes to find Jenks hovering at the sensor to keep the doors from shutting. The soft sounds of a nearly empty lobby filtered in, and Ivy took my arm. I would have protested, except I really needed it. Together we started out of the elevator. God, I felt a hundred and sixty years old, my heart pounding and my knees weak.

But the slow movement started to feel good, and the farther we went, the more sure I was that this was the right thing to do. I glanced around-trying not to look like I was-scopin' casual, as Jenks would say. The lobby had a few people passing through it even at midnight, and the lights shining down on the entryway illuminated the snow-covered vegetation to make it into indistinguishable blobs. It was kind of pretty with the flashing amber lights of the tow truck.

Tow truck?

"Hey! That's my car!" I exclaimed upon seeing it parked at the curb in the pickup and drop-off spot. But it wouldn't be there long from the looks of it.

At the sound of my voice, two people turned from the big plate-glass windows. They'd been watching the guy work, and my eyes narrowed when I realized it was Dr. Mape and the cop on duty. A big vamp from the I.S. Great. Just freaking great.

"Plan B, Ivy," Jenks said, then dove into the elevator.

"That's my car!" I shouted again, then gasped when Ivy spun me around and yanked me back into the elevator. My back hit the wall and I put a hand to my stomach. "Who said"-I panted through the sudden vertigo-"you could drive my car?"

The doors snicked shut and cut off the doctor's protest. I clutched at the walls when the elevator started to go up, then forced myself to let go. Damn it, I am not going to get sick. "Who said you could drive my car?" I said again, louder, as if I could hold off the dizziness with my voice.

Jenks's wings hummed nervously, and Ivy flushed. "What was I supposed to pick you up with? My cycle?" she muttered. "I'm in a legal spot. I had thirty minutes left."

"They're towing my car!" I shouted again, pointing, and she shrugged.

"I'll get it out of impound."

"How are we going to get home now!" I yelled, not liking the feeling of helplessness, and Ivy pulled out her cell phone from a slim case at her belt. God, the thing was the size of a credit card. "I'll call Kist-" Her voice broke, and I stared at her suddenly riven features. "I mean, Erica," she amended softly. "She'll come get us. She works near here."

Turn it to hell. Ill and heartsick, I pressed into the corner of the elevator and tried to find my equilibrium.

Jenks landed on my shoulder. "Relax, Rache," he said, his eyes darting to Ivy as she hunched in pain, her fingers tapping out a text message as fast as if she were at a conventional keyboard. "You saw the hag of a doctor. It's not Ivy's fault. They knew you were making a run for it."

Hands splayed, I propped myself against the two walls surrounding me. It felt as if we were rising through thousands of pinpricks of ice as the world hit me raw, unprotected without my full aura. It wasn't as if I was in a position to do anything. And Dr. Mape would have been a fool for not expecting this. Multiple escapes were in my record. My mom used to sneak me out all the time. "Where are we going?" I breathed, forcing myself to keep my eyes open even though they kept shifting on their own, like I had been on a merry-go-round for too long.

"The roof."

I eyed Ivy, then carefully leaned to push the button for the third floor. "There's a walkway to the children's wing on the third floor. We can go out that way," I muttered, and my eyes slid shut. Just for a moment. Ivy and Jenks's silence pulled them back open. "What?" I said. "Why should I go through the laundry chute to the basement floor when I can roll out in a wheelchair?"

Ivy shifted her feet. "You'll sit down?" she asked.

Before I fall down? Not likely. "Yes," I said, then accepted Ivy's arm when the elevator stopped and the world magically returned to normal.

The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and Jenks flew out, darting back before we had gone three steps. "There's a chair over here," he said, and I leaned against the wall beside the fake potted plant as Ivy used one hand to keep me upright, and the other to almost throw the chair open, the locks snapping in place from the sudden shock of being jerked to a stop.

"Sit," she said, and I gratefully sat. I had to get home. Everything would be better if I could just get home.

Ivy pushed me into motion, taking advantage of the empty hall to race for the walkway. Dizziness roared from everywhere, slipping out of the corners where the walls and floor met, chasing after me as Ivy raced. "Slow down," I whispered, but I think it was my lolling head that got her to stop. Either that or Jenks screaming at her.

"What the hell are you doing!" Jenks was shouting, and I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep from throwing up.

"Getting her out of here," she snarled from somewhere far away and distant behind me.

"You can't move her that fast!" he yelled, dusting me as if he could give me a false aura. "She's not moving slowly because she's hurt, she's moving slowly to keep her aura with her. You just freaking left it back at the elevator!"

Ivy's voice was a mere whisper of "Oh my God." I felt a warm hand on me. "Rachel, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

It was getting better surprisingly fast, and the world stopped spinning. Looking up, I squinted until she came into focus. "Yeah." I took a cautiously deep breath. "Just don't go that fast." Crap. How was I going to handle the car?

Ivy's face was scared, and I reached up to touch her hand, still on my shoulder. "I'm okay," I said, risking another deep breath. "Where are we?"

She pushed us back into motion, almost crawling. Jenks, flying a close flank, nodded. "The children's wing," she whispered.