Boneyard (The Thaumaturge Series Book 2) (24 page)

“Thanks, Scott,” I said softly and he patted my arm.

“You’re a good kid,” he said. “Want to watch the game?”

Chapter 16

“Here ya go,” Cody announced as he finally barged through the door, a tray of food balanced in one hand.

I eyed his flushed cheeks. “Found your nurse, didja?”

He gave me a dopey grin. “What can I say, man? Ladies love cowboys.”

“Well, you do look the part,” I agreed, scooting back on the bed and wheeling the table tray to fit over my lap. “There’s even some cow shit stuck to your boot.”

“No, there’s not...” Cody set the tray down and contorted himself, picking up each booted foot and then scowling at me. I grinned and peeled the aluminum lid off the pudding cup.

“Asshole,” he muttered and crane-stepped his way past Scott to get to the vacant chair. Scott, utterly absorbed in the football playing on the TV, barely blinked.

“So how long do we have to wait?” Cody whined. He dug his phone out of his pocket and stared into its glow.

I shoveled not-half-bad potato casserole into my mouth. “Don’t know,” I mumbled around the food. “Doctor said it could be a while. And I have to see Danielle.”

“Mmm,” Cody grunted out a non-committal noise and began tapping at his phone.

I wiped my beard on the ball of my shoulder. “Cody?”

“What?”

“What did my mom say when she called you?”

He looked up and met my eyes. “Oh.” He shrugged. “Just that you were in the hospital and that she and Lloyd were leaving for Coeur ‘d’Alene.”

I nodded, shooting for nonchalance. “Oh,” I said. “She asked you to come instead?”

He shifted, lowering his phone to his lap “Well...no. Actually, she asked me to go feed your dog. But I, uh. I don’t know. I was worried.”

“Oh,” I said again. I picked up my own phone, turned off now to conserve power. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, dude. Like I said, you know. Family.”

I smiled a little. “Yeah.”

He glanced at Scott. “And anyway,” he lowered his voice. “You did save my life. I kinda owe you one.”

I opened my mouth, but sudden emotion swallowed my response and I looked away.  I was turning into a big softie. Must have been the medication. Or the holiday. Or maybe I was just tired.

On the TV, the game went to commercial and Scott suddenly jerked back to life, stretching out his legs and taking off his old ball cap to scratch at his salt and pepper head.

“Didja see a pop machine out there?” he asked Cody. “I need some caffeine.”

“Yeah, down in the lounge,” Cody said. “I’ll go with you.”

They fussed over me a bit, which was pleasant. Scott tucked the TV remote control against my side and angled the straw of my hospital-issued water bottled closer to my face.

“Okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, shooing them out. “Go.”

The door clicked closed behind them and my eyes sought the analogue clock on the wall. Just a hair past noon. I needed to be back in Heckerson by nightfall. I needed to be ready in case Leo called.
When
he called.

My phone sat uselessly on my lap, blank and heavy. The seconds ticked by on the clock. With a sigh, I picked up my fork and cut into the cooling meatloaf. I shoved it into my mouth and chewed it into mushy lumps.

Jonathan Weber opened the door and stepped into the room.

I froze. The meatloaf slithered down my throat in a long line and I swallowed convulsively. The blanket over my legs didn’t seem like nearly enough covering and my eyes flicked over to the chair where my clothes lay.

Weber smiled like a hyena. “This is really exciting, Mr. White. Look, I have goosebumps.” He held his forearm out and his grin grew a little manic.

I didn’t look. I stared warily at his face and watched as he stepped closer.

“I want you to know I’ve decided I forgive you,” he said. He slipped his overcoat off his shoulders and folded it over his arm. Underneath, his black suit coat and crisp white collar gave him more the appearance of an undertaker than a lawyer. I caught a whiff of some sort of piney cologne.

“For lying to me,” he clarified. “I understand now why you did it. You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m out to get you. Bloodsucking lawyer. I understand.”

“Why are you here?” I asked, recoiling against the raised mattress as he glided closer. Weber smiled down at me and then sat at the foot of the bed. His hip pressed against my calf and I jerked away.

“I’ve been speaking to one Officer Chad Metz,” Weber started. He leaned in like he was confiding secret information with me, like we were pals. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what an interesting series of events have occurred in your humble town in the last week. A coven of witches. A body found, a body lost. The mysterious death of a reclusive old man. Missing persons reports. And now, a fatal car accident that has no fatalities. And at the center of it all...” his smiled turned soft. Benevolent.  “There you are, Ebron. Right there in the creamy center.”

“I have nothing to do wit—”

“Really, Mr. White, please stop lying. There’s no point. I understand everything. More than one witness has stated that the witches were seen in your shop. Where you sell medicinal herbs.”

“And teas,” I interjected.

“Furthermore, by your own admission, you have had a sexual relationship with one Marcus Harper. You claim to have attended school with Isaac Gouse, also known as ‘Corvin’. And,” Weber reached out and set one slim white hand on my blanketed leg. I twitched involuntarily under his repellent touch. “Two dozen people put you at the scene of a terrible car accident, a car accident that—judging from what the first responders were eager to tell me—should have been fatal. Yet, and here’s what’s really interesting, Mr. White, there are no fatalities. At least not yet.”

I wished I had something to wield as a weapon, desperately conjuring memories of movies where the good guy grabbed a lamp or a fire poker or something to bash the asshole the head. But I had nothing but a plastic fork and a scratchy blanket and an IV in the back of my hand and I had never felt so vulnerable in my life. My whole body tensed up tight as a coiled spring and despite my obvious disadvantage, I leveled Weber with a scowl.

“I think you need to go,” I said.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I will. But I’m not done with you. And I hope that next time we see each other, we can both just stop pretending.”

“I have no idea—”

“Liar, liar,” Weber singsonged quietly. He squeezed my ankle through the blanket and I twisted my leg away. “You know where those witches are, don’t you? You know exactly why I’m looking for Issac Gouse, also known as ‘Corvin’, don’t you? You know what he’s capable of.”

I couldn’t help it; I started, just a tiny bit, at the mention of Corvin’s dream-walking, but Weber noticed and his grin spread across face.

“Yes,” he said smugly. “You know. Can you do it too? Please say you can.”

“Get out,” I said desperately.

“I’ll find out,” Weber said. “I have ways. There’s no place to hide from me.” Then to my enormous relief, he stood up. He pulled his black overcoat on and smoothed it over his chest. All the way, he gazed at me with a wild smile, his eyes lit up and manic.

“You don’t want to lie to me,” he said. “I know you want me to be the bad guy, but I’m not. I need to find Corvin and you know why. Don’t protect him, Ebron. He doesn’t deserve protection and you certainly don’t want to take the fall for him.” He barked out a sudden laugh, deep and wheezy. “Trust me, you don’t want that.”

He turned towards the door, but paused, peering back at me with an expression that seemed alarmingly fond. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. White. I promise you that.”

I stared at the empty doorway after he left, my mind racing, my heart pounding. Isaac Gouse, also known as Corvin. Fuck.

Wait...

Gouse. I knew that name.

Abruptly, I sat up in the bed. I did know that name. Because I saw it every time I had to run a credit card batch at work.

Corvin’s mother was my annoying, least favorite customer. Misty.

The waiting became unbearable after that. A nurse wandered in and took out my IV and since no one had told me I couldn’t, I grabbed my rumpled clothes and scooted into the tiny bathroom. Cold air jetted up my exposed backside and I hustled to pull on my underwear, my hands still trembling with rage and panic. Scott and Cody carried their snacks back into the room and tried to engage me, but left off when I did nothing but grunt in their direction. I couldn’t stop thinking about Weber’s teeth, neat and sharp. I couldn’t stop thinking about Misty, Corvin’s mother, searching for him. Every which way I turned, I fell into another trap.

By the time Diana returned, showered and in fresh clothes but looking no less furious, I had taken to pacing the small room while Cody and Scott argued amiably about sports statistics.  Scott stopped talking mid-sentence when she slammed open the door without knocking, his hands hanging in the air from his aborted gesture.

“Jeez, rude much?” I snapped at her.

She didn’t look at me. “The girl is in the ICU. We should go now, while most people are still at lunch.”

“Are her parents there?” I asked. “I want to see her mother.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Want to milk her for more money?”

I scoffed, indignant. Diana glared at me scornfully and dug into her purse, pulling out a bundle and tossing it on the bed. “There. That enough for you?”

I didn’t want to, but my eyes automatically fell to the little rubber-banded roll of cash.

“Fuck, man,” Cody said, looking back and forth between me and Diana. Scott made a low, disapproving noise, but I didn’t risk looking at him to see if he intended the disapproval for me.

With as much dignity as I could muster, despite my pounding heart and the heat spreading up my face, I pocketed the money. It made a conspicuous little mound in my jeans.

“Thanks,” I said, struggling to keep my voice neutral.

My feigned calmed seemed only to enflame her and she sneered, flashing her eyes at me while her nostrils flared. I bit back my impulse to apologize.

“Let’s go then,” I said, gesturing towards the door.

She scowled at me a second longer, then spun on her heel and stomped out the door. Scott raised his eyebrows at me.

“Think I could take her in a fight?” I joked weakly.

Cody snorted. Scott clicked his tongue.

“Sorry, son,” he told me. “My money’s on her.”

We buzzed right through into the Intensive Care Unit, which seemed like a bit of an oversight to me. Diana kept her eyes forward, though, and marched us down the hushed hallway without stopping to talk to any of the people we passed. The hallway broadened out into a wide square, the nurses’ desk smack in the middle. Glass-walled rooms lined each side of the square, and despite the utilitarian look of the place, it had the messy, gut-wrenching feeling of sorrow, no matter how buried under sterile white it was.

Two nurses stood behind their desk, one leaning over to type and the other with a phone wedged under her ear. The one on the phone nodded at Diana as we strode past, her eyes only briefly flicking to me. I shot Diana a questioning look. Had she arranged our visit? Great, more people knowing about me. I desperately wanted to know how she would have worded her question to have me visit.

Yeah, there’s this guy? He can bring people back from the dead. Well, not completely, he fucked it up the first time with this girl. But he’s gonna give it another go.

I searched the hall for Dahlia, but aside from nurses moving quietly from room to room, the space seemed quiet. Everything seemed muffled, as though the sick and dying had to be protected from all noises.

I avoided glancing into any of the open rooms we passed, but I couldn’t stop myself from wondering—could I help these people too? Could I just walk in there and put my hands on Joe Blow there and fix his cancer or whatever? My hands trembled at the thought. What was I capable of?

“Right here,” Diana said, gesturing towards an empty doorway. She ducked in and held aside a curtain, beyond which I could see a bed and the soft outline of thin legs. No Dahlia, though. Shit, did she know I was here? Did she know I was, you know,
involved
?

I swallowed hard. Diana waited, her face impassive. I steeled myself and stepped under her arm.

I wouldn’t have recognized Danielle. Last night had been bad enough, when she’d been twisted and blood-covered and stuck in the rictus of death. But now she lay flat with tubes and tape and wires covering her, her dark hair hastily shaved in patches to accommodate stitches, her body tucked to the chin under a pale blue blanket. The fine bones of her face seemed too prominent, like her skin had been pulled taut. Her thin chest rose and fell, rose and fell, accompanied by the hissing groan of a respirator.

The door closed with a muted thud and I glanced over my shoulder. Diana looked uneasy. “Do you want us to stay?” she asked. In the presence of Danielle’s poor, broken body, her anger at me seemed to have dissipated.

“Where’s her mom?” I asked. She looked so small, laying there amongst the wires. Just as helpless as when she’d been lying crumbled on the pavement the night before. She needed a parent beside her, clutching her hand. Someone to call to her, however high her soul might have gone.

“She’s here,” Diana said. “I waited until she went to the cafeteria before bringing you up.”

I inched forward, trying to make space for myself amongst the machines and settled on perching near her feet, Diana crowded at my back.

“I know her parents,” I said quietly. “Her mom should be here.”

“I can go find her,” Scott volunteered.

“Don’t you want to watch him do it?” Cody said from behind me. I heard him shuffling around. “I wanna see.”

“I’ve seen it,” Scott said softly. He touched a gentle hand to my shoulder. “I’ll be back, son.”

The machine near her head pulsed out a steady, low pitched beep. Her respirator huffed and groaned. Hesitantly, I circled her ankle with my palm, my fingers touching.
So small
.

“Danielle,” I said quietly. My eyes went a little unfocused.