21 Shades of Night, page 172
“Hardly.” I glanced behind me. “John, this is Marge and Adrian.”
John cleared his throat and stepped forward to hold his hand out with his easy going smile.
“No, point,” I said. “They apparently have an aversion to touching people.”
He glanced at their faces—Marge’s bored and angry and Adrian’s impassive—and his chuckle died before it could really start. “Well, it’s great to meet some of Gabby’s…would I call you co-workers?”
“Yeah, whatever, Blondie.” Marge looked to me. “So what are you doing here?”
“Following our devil’s trail,” I said.
“Interesting,” Adrian said. “We were following the boy.”
“How’d you know he was here?”
Adrian’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and his eyes narrowed at John.
“He’s trustworthy,” I said.
Adrian snorted. “Because you are an excellent judge of character.”
John squeezed my elbow lightly. “Hey, I should probably head back, anyway.”
I bristled, the hair rising on my arms. “He has not right to chase you off.”
“We were here first.” Marge smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll send some pics of me kicking this Ozzo’s ass.”
“Ose.” I let out a sigh. “And you’re really going to resort to laying claim?”
“It’s no big deal.” John raised his hand up to point to the light sports jacket. “Besides, I didn’t exactly come dressed for B and E.”
He gave me a light kiss on my cheek and headed back. I watched him go, biting my lip. He was capable enough, but this night was full of demons and madness. I turned back to Adrian with a glare.
“Tu sei veramente e stronzo,” I said in Italian. Yes, he really was an asshole.
“It’s kept me alive this long,” he responded in my native language.
“It won’t last forever.”
“No one has forever,” he said.
“Some of us do.” I walked past them, scanning the wall for an easy way up.
At the end of the wall near the woods, one of the trees from the woods grew close to the corner. With a few swift huffs, I climbed it, perched on the limb, and gazed over the brick wall at an asylum. The building looked like an estate built around the turn of the century. Barred windows lined the three stories, and search-lights rested on top of the roof, their beams trailing across the large yard. A gravel driveway extended from the metal gate I had passed earlier.
“Are you going to tell us how you know, or are we suspect as well?” I asked.
“You’ll always be suspect, but since I know where you sleep.” Adrian shrugged. “I attached nanomachines to him in order to track him.”
“You attached what?” Marge asked.
“They’re machines measured in nanometers, built from molecular components. Most of the research is still in its infancy compared to what I have been able to accomplish. I have set up an interface between them and my brain.”
His explanation swirled around in my head, and I tried to make sense of it. He spoke English, yet the words were foreign to me. I chewed the inside of my cheek. Marge looked as lost as I was.
“So, nanomachines are?” I asked.
He sighed. “Tiny robots.”
“I didn’t see any robots,” Marge said.
“They are microscopic.”
“So, invisible tiny robots you control with your mind?”
“In very simple terms, yes,” Adrian said.
“So, what else can these magic machines do?” I asked.
A vein throbbed on Adrian’s temple. “Not magic, science.”
It sounded like magic to me, but most science did, so I would take his word for it. These tiny robots led us to the biker, so they were useful. That’s all we needed at the moment. A light flared in one of the corner widows on the first floor, one with no bars. It flickered off, and a shadowy figure climbed out. It stuck close to the building until it arrived at the corner, then darted across the yard, ducking to avoid the lights when they passed.
“Unless someone lost their keys, I’d say the boy is on the move,” I said.
“Round two should be fun,” Marge said. “You’re not going to get in the way this time, are you?”
“Wait until he gets closer to the edge.”
The figure climbed the wall at the corner closest to the wood line of the forest that encroached on the northwest side of the asylum. A howl split the night. I waved to the corner not forty feet away from us.
The biker spun in a circle, his head turning back and forth. The hellhound leapt from the trees and dashed toward him. Even hunched, its wolf-man form stood over eight feet of muscle and fur. Its snout peeled back into a snarl. The boy broke into a full run, but the hellhound caught him in moments.
Merda. I had my sundang, but I still didn’t have anything to deal with the werewolf part of the problem. It would heal most of the wounds before I could kill it. John had yet to come through with what I needed. We would have to wing it.
“What the fuck is that?” Marge asked.
“Hellhound,” I said. “Adrian, get the boy out of here while Marge and I distract it.”
“We gonna kill it?” Marge asked.
“No, this is a hit and run.”
The hellhound clamped its jaws around the biker’s arm and tossed him into the air. He flew a few feet closer to us. I pulled out my sword and hopped out of the tree. I hit the ground and came up in a roll. I ran behind the beast and cut a deep gash in his side. He snarled at me and swung his arm for a backhand. I rolled out of the way.
“Hey, Furry,” Marge called.
Her foot slammed down on its knee, and a crack echoed through the yard. He yowled and snapped his jaw down at her face. She hopped out of the way. The hellhound hobbled after her. Her eyes widened as the bones reknitted.
“What the fuck?” she yelled.
“Yeah, that’s why we’re sticking to the plan,” I said.
“What plan? You didn’t say shit.”
“Then just follow my lead.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Adrian groaned behind me. It had to be from the weight of the biker. The hellhound’s ears perked, and it rumbled at him. I moved to stand between them and pulled out a glass vial of holy water. My last one—the Van Helsings had better have more.
I moved in and slashed its leg. The hellhound couldn’t give chase if we kept working on its leg. Its attention shifted from Adrian’s retreating back to me. It growled, saliva dripping from its yellowed fangs.
“You are a beast of few words,” I said. “Did Ose take your tongue with your freedom?”
“Shut up, Food,” he said with a rumbling voice.
“Sorry, I’m a little tough.”
“And I’m bitter,” Marge said.
She brought her leg up for a kick, but he grabbed it. His claws sank into her calf as he dangled her in the air. I slammed the holy water into his snout. He snorted and reared, slapping at the glass shards. He swung Marge at me, and I had to leap to the side to avoid getting hit. That didn’t help. He threw her into me. The force of his throw sent us flying into the nearby tree. We bounced and tumbled to the ground. I rolled back toward my sword and sprang to my feet in front of the hellhound.
“Run,” I told Marge. “I’ll catch up.”
Blood matted the fur where I had slashed him, but the wound was closed. I spun to the left until I came up behind him to sever his hamstring. His leg buckled under his mass. He turned, balancing himself on his arms and good leg.
He lunged at me, roaring. I sidestepped and raised my sword to catch him in the side as he went by. He lumbered on the ground, struggling to get up. Time for me to run. I dashed through the trees until I reached the road where Adrian’s car waited with its motor rumbling. Marge hopped into the passenger seat. My feet pounded on concrete. I flung open the back door and threw myself in. Adrian sped off.
“Where’s the boy?” I asked.
“He didn’t make it,” Adrian said.
I hunched my shoulders, crossing my arms. “So that was all for nothing.”
“Not entirely. That was on him.”
Adrian tossed an orange bottle of pills with a white cap. The label listed the address and phone number of the hospital. It had no patient name but listed the doctor as Charles Navotny. The name of the drug was typed “Menrazine.”
Chapter 14
TRES HELD OPEN the door to the house as Marge limped inside with her arm flung over my shoulder. He stared down at her blood-soaked pants with the side of his lip twitching.
“Looks like I missed all the fun,” he said.
Adrian shut the door. “We didn’t want to disturb your date.”
Tres scowled at him. “So, you’re just going to leave me out?”
“No, you do that all yourself.”
“You’re one to talk,” Tres snapped.
I set Marge on the couch and dragged the foot rest over to prop up her leg. She glared at the brothers as they entered the room. They only had eyes for each other as they continued to trade veiled insults.
“How about helping now,” I said.
Tres stopped and blinked at Marge’s leg as if he’d just seen it for the first time. “Oh, let me get my first aid kit.”
I slid to the floor and leaned against the foot-rest. The bottom of Marge’s boot blurred and came into focus. The treads were lined with some sort of white material. It looked like bone, but what person would put bones in their boots?
“What’s in your boot?” I asked.
“The bones of a Saint,” she said.
I snorted and coughed. “That’s…”
“What’s more useful, idolizing the bones in some vault or using them to kill demons?”
“Where did you get them, and have you actually killed any demons with it?”
She leaned back in the chair with a smirk that defied the pain she must have felt. “I met a few people who deal in questionable artifacts. And yeah, they’ve worked out well for me.”
She proved a resourceful girl. Most of me cheered her on, but a small portion was horrified. To have such a revered person used in such a base purpose poked at part of me that believed in the sacred.
Tres came back with his kit, and I moved. I backed up to the doorway. He pulled out a roll of bandages, antibiotic spray, and scissors. “I’m going to have to cut the pants’ leg off.”
“Sure,” Marge said.
“Where’s Esais?” I asked.
“Asleep, I think,” Tres said.
“I’m going to wake him. We have a lot to discuss.”
I handed the prescription bottle back to Adrian and walked to Esais’s bedroom. He lay in the middle of his bed, with one arm flung to the side and another above his head. The blanket lay in a pile on the floor. A red leather book sat on the nightstand. His forehead creased, and his eyelids twitched while his hand jerked at his side. His skin had taken on a grayish tint, and sweat reflected from his forehead in the light of the lamp. I sat on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder gently. He jumped, his eyes flying open.
“Sorry to wake you. We found something, though,” I said.
He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.”
“Bad dreams.”
“Mmm, more like a pressure from all around. A sickness.”
I moved the collar of his T-shirt, sliding the cord around his neck until the piece of jet lay in my hand. Hairline cracks formed along the outer edges and strained to meet in the center. The structure of the gem remained whole, and the symbols were still intact. The necklace did a good job of protecting him. We just needed to finish this before it crumbled under the strain of too much power.
“Make sure you keep this on you,” I said.
He nodded. “What did you find?”
“The biker decided to break into the asylum. Get dressed.”
Tres’s yelling traveled down the hall to us. Marge leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Not a mark remained on her leg. Adrian and Tres glared at each other from across the room. I glanced at Marge, and she just shrugged.
“What seems to be the problem?” Esais asked.
Tres stiffened and forced a smile on his face. “It’s nothing. So, I guess it’s time for the meeting.”
“It’s not nothing.” Adrian spun on Esais. “Were you aware our brother has the miraculous ability to heal wounds?”
Esais cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“I’ve always had it. You were just too busy being brilliant to notice,” Tres said.
“He’s not the only one.” Esais took a deep breath. “I have power, too.”
His voice reverberated through my mind. Marge jumped and snapped her head in his direction. The color drained from Adrian’s face, and he stared hard at his brother. His lips pressed in a thin white line.
“Well,” Marge said. “I didn’t know freak shows came in Euro-trash.”
“I can’t believe both my brothers have been corrupted,” Adrian said.
“They aren’t. They have been gifted by spirits. His”—I pointed to Esais—“is most likely an angel. I’m not sure about Tres.”
He glared at me. “Not more of this emissary nonsense.”
“You’re one to talk,” I said.
“Meaning?”
“Let’s just say you weren’t left out when the gifts were given to the Van Helsing family.”
“And you know this how?”
“I can see it.”
He smirked. “Of course, your special vision. Well, I guess you’re wrong, because I don’t have any power.”
I rubbed my temples. I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He’d wrapped himself in his cocoon of being human so thoroughly that he probably locked his own abilities. He probably couldn’t even hear the woman whispering in his ears. The three of them needed to work this out among themselves. Anything I could add would just be fuel to Adrian’s engine.
“Fine, let’s just deal with what happened tonight. This won’t take long,” I said. “Then you can get back to your family issues.”
I described what happened at the asylum, with Marge dropping in an occasional comment. Tres ran his hands through his hair, tapped his foot, and sighed the entire time as if he didn’t find my story interesting. Esais, on the other hand, never took his eyes off me.
“So, what’s the connection to Ose?” he asked.
“I saw something, same as what I saw at the carnival. I think Ose has his fingers in that asylum.”
“The mental institution?” Tres asked.
“The one we’ve been discussing for the past half hour,” Adrian said.
Tres shot him a dirty look before turning back to us. “Charlotte works there.”
“Great. Help from the girlfriend.” Adrian set the bag on the coffee table and walked to the door. “Have at it, then.”
Esais looked to me. “We can go to Charlotte’s tomorrow and talk to her.”
“I’m coming, too,” Tres said.
“We’re done, then?” Marge stood. “Then let me know how tea time goes.”
Chapter 15
CHARLOTTE OPENED THE door wide to let us in. “Good to see you.”
She led us into the living room and motioned to a brown couch with patches of strings on the seat cushions. It sat between two tables with the finish worn off around the edges. Pictures of Charlotte and Nancy along with other members of their family covered the wall. Someone had recently vacuumed the carpet, and the smell of lemon permeated the room.
She disappeared into the kitchen and came back carrying a pitcher of iced tea and some glasses. “Please have a seat. Tres said you had some questions?”
“Charlotte, do you know a Dr. Navotny?” I asked.
She blinked. “He’s the head of the mental hospital I work at. I’m surprised you know of him. He really doesn’t deal with patients.”
“I saw a prescription bottle with his name on it. I found it weird since I’d never heard of the drug,” Tres said.
“You know a lot about drugs?” she asked with a stammer. “Where did you find this prescription?”
“We found them with someone we don’t think they belonged to,” I said. “However, shouldn’t there be some sort of approval before a drug is distributed to patients?”
“I really can’t say. I’m just a nurse.” She cleared her throat, her voice becoming stronger. “But, you know it illegal to possess a prescription that isn’t yours, don’t you?”
I straightened up and met her gaze. If she wanted to try and intimidate, so could I. “What would the authorities have to say about you hospital testing unapproved drugs on patients?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about. We aren’t testing any new medications.”
Tres leaned forward and put his hand over hers. “Charlotte, you’ve noticed that people in the town have been acting odd?”
She stiffened, her eyes going wide as she swung her gaze at him. “I…”
“We think Dr. Navotny is responsible, somehow,” I said.
“Are you police?”
I chuckled. “No, the police wouldn’t understand this.”
Esais leaned forward, his eyes filled with concern. “We want to help your patients. Protect them. “You want to help them as well, right?”
Her head tilted as though weighing his words. I tried my best to look concerned by crossing my arms and biting my lip. Her eyes shifted to the side, and she clutched the couch pillow tighter. She looked scared and not just afraid of losing her job. She had genuine fear. She acted as if she couldn’t talk about the head of a department without some sort of secret police coming after her. What went on at this hospital?
The door slammed open in the hall with a bang, and Nancy marched into the living room. She froze when she saw us. Her head jerked in Charlotte’s direction, and her lips pressed in a thin line.
“You didn’t say anything about people coming over,” she said.
“I thought you were going to be working until tonight,” Charlotte said.
