Blood Craft: The Shadow Sorceress Book Two (4 page)

S
itting in the waiting room
, I stared at the board covered in little leaflets. The usual what to do when in crisis, or how to handle illness in a loved one.

I hated hospitals.

The smell of disinfectant invaded all of my pores, but that wasn’t what bothered me most. It was the overwhelming stench of death. Hospitals were filled with the scent of it. It was never about healing and recovery, they were the place people came to die, the broken and ill whose lives were coming to a close, usually far sooner than their loved ones would like.

Leaning forward, I placed my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands. I was beginning to lose it; I’d lost count of the number of hours I’d sat here waiting for some sort of news on Graham, and if I didn’t get any soon, I was going to flip out. Or, at least, that was what I promised myself. It had been the only thought to keep me going over the agonising wait.

“Where is he?” A female voice cut through my solitary thoughts and I lifted my head, my gaze settling on a middle aged woman, her bottle-blonde hair perfectly coiffed around her face.

She strode forward and the animosity that rolled from her made me recoil.

“You are?” I asked, folding my arms defensively across my chest. I could still feel the blood on my hands; it was dried into my nail beds and getting it out was going to be an ordeal. But none of it mattered. This was my fault and there was a part of me that believed I deserved to wear Graham’s blood on my hands.

“I’m his wife. They told me he’d been brought in here….” She paused and looked me over a little more carefully. “Oh, god, is that his blood?” Her voice went up several octaves and I watched her waver on her feet.

A tall, lean man stepped into the room and grabbed her arm, swinging her around so she could bury her face in his shoulder.

“She’s covered in his blood, Henry…. Please, she has to leave, I can’t have someone like that hanging around…. She’s a bad omen.” The woman’s voice was marred by hysteria, but I could still make out her words.

The urge to hop up from the plastic seat my ass had practically moulded onto and grab her by her blonde bobble head washed over me. Resisting, I crossed my legs and leaned back against the white, sterile wall the plastic seat I was perched on was pressed against.

“I’m Graham’s colleague. I was there when the incident occurred. I’m covered in his blood because I was doing CPR on him….” My voice was clipped and authoritarian, and I hated it.

Yet, I couldn’t help it as the woman continued to sob into Henry’s shoulder. He shot me a nasty look and in a nasally voice said, “Can you please leave? Can’t you see how much you’re upsetting her?”

Sucking in a deep breath, I stood and strode out into the hall, anger bubbling in my veins as I paced back and forth. I certainly didn’t remember Graham mentioning a wife in the picture and his apartment had that bachelor feel to it. The impression I’d gotten was that he was separated from his wife, probably after Jessica’s disappearance. So to have her now rush in here and throw me out after everything….

I drank down another deep breath and let it out slowly. What was the point in getting wound up about something as petty as that? She was his wife, that was all there was to it. I needed to get over myself. He might have been my partner, but she’d known him longer and, separated or not, they had a kid together. That had to count for something.

The doctor who had taken over Graham’s case from the minute he’d arrived in the hospital appeared around the corner of the nurse’s station, his expression grim as he caught sight of me and I swallowed hard.

“You came in with Graham Lance? Who are you?” he asked, moving down the hall towards me.

“I’m his partner, we both work for the Elite.” I got the words out before the look on his face caused my throat to close over.

There was a pity in his eyes that could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

I opened my lips to speak to him, but my mouth was so dry my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and the words refused to form. Instead, I was left to nod at him like one of those nodding dogs people enjoyed putting on the dashboards of their cars as he spoke at me.

“His injuries are serious, but he seems to be stable for now. We operated in an attempt to stop the internal bleeding he came in with but while on the table, he suffered a cardiac arrest. It was a close thing, but he’s strong.”

The hallway lurched around me and I slammed my hand into the wall in an attempt to steady myself. There was way too much white, and it only served to intensify the tilting inside my head. Steady, Amber.

“Are you all right? Is there someone here with you?”

I shook my head and did my best to unstick my tongue. “Can I see him?”

He paused and seemed to mull it over before finally nodding.

“Fine, but if anyone asks, you’re family,” he said, and still I could see the pity in his eyes. Obviously I looked like a big enough mess that he was willing to risk getting disciplined by letting me in.

“His wife is here…” I said, and the doctor’s expression hardened a little.

“Where?” I could practically feel his disapproval rolling off him. Whatever small amount of pity I’d managed to elicit in him was now gone.

He pushed past me and disappeared into the waiting room. He wasn’t happy with me, but he also hadn’t said I couldn’t go in and see Graham. Making my way unsteadily down the hall, I paused at the nurse’s desk.

“I’m here to see Graham Lance, I was told I could have a few minutes with him.”

The nurse eyed me suspiciously, but whether it was the fact that I was still covered in Graham’s blood, or if I just looked that desperate, she nodded and pushed up from her seat behind the desk. Gesturing for me to follow her, she started down the corridor and paused outside a glass door. The blinds were shut and it wasn’t until she pushed open the door that I could hear the mechanical sound of the ventilator.

“Julie, someone to see Mr Lance,” the nurse said before allowing me to slide in through the small gap in the door.

My heart stuttered in my chest as my senses were assaulted. The sterile smell in the room, the noise of the machines as they mechanically pushed air into Graham’s lungs, the flashing on the monitors, numbers and bleeps as lights blinked up and down—and right in the middle of it all, Graham lay on his back, perfectly still. The machine next to him whooshed and his chest rose and then fell once more.

The nurse standing inside the door spoke to me, but she might as well have been calling to me from the other side of the world. Crossing the floor, I paused next to Graham’s bed, staring down at him, a hint of a white bandage visible above the neckline of the hospital gown he wore.

“Christ, Graham, I’m so sorry….” My words felt woefully inadequate, and they were. What was the point in being sorry now that the damage was done? If I’d been faster, better at my job, then maybe I’d have found the evidence we needed to get Dex to hand the case back to us. But I hadn’t. I’d screwed up and now Graham was paying the price.

The demon mark on my shoulder began to burn and I gritted my teeth against the pain. It was a price I should have paid. If Jon wasn’t gunning for me then he wouldn’t have sent Graham half a case file, he wouldn’t have been trying so hard to destroy me … Graham wouldn’t have been his collateral damage.

Gripping the edge of the bed, I squeezed the metal bars until my knuckles went white. Jon would pay for this. And whatever it was that had attacked Graham, I would make it wish it had never entered this world.

“Excuse me, Mr Lance’s wife says you’re not family….” The nurse called Julie tapped my shoulder drawing my attention.

“I’m his partner, this is all my fault,” I said.

“Well, you can’t be in here unless you’re family,” she said again. This time her voice was a little firmer.

Leaning down next to the bed, I ignored the sound of the machinery as it continued to keep Graham alive. “I meant what I said, Graham. If you leave me, I will follow you into death. This is not your time, so hurry up and get your ass better,” I said, before straightening up and turning from the bed.

The nurse shot me a dirty look as I pulled open the door and came face to face with Graham’s wife. She took one look at me and instantly went into the hysterics; her legs buckled beneath her, and I caught her in my arms as she dropped like a stone towards the floor.

Of course, holding onto her as she flailed around like a dying fish, her hands catching the side of my face, her elbow jabbing into my ribcage hard enough to drive the air from my lungs as she wailed like a banshee wasn’t exactly easy.

“What are you doing? Let her go immediately!” The man she’d called Henry commanded, hurrying down the floor towards me, the doctor I’d spoken to bringing up the rear.

Her hand caught me again, her nails tearing down the side of my face the same way a cat might. “Henry, she killed him—oh God, I told you she was a….” I let her go, dumping her onto the floor as her wails cut off as suddenly as they’d begun.

I felt sorry for her; she knew Graham better than I did, so she had to care for him, but I couldn’t understand her reaction. Her sudden and pronounced hatred of me didn’t make any sense. Although, how could I blame her? If I was in her shoes, I’d blame me too. Didn’t I already feel responsible for what was going on?

Leaving her in the capable and comforting grip of her Henry, I turned and strode down the hall, leaving her to pick her hysterical screaming up once more. At least she was in the right place; if she kept up her hysterics they’d sedate her, and at least then, she might feel relief.

E
scaping
out through the front doors of the hospital, I paused to drink in the cool evening air. The sound of running feet met my ears before I even had the chance to fully take in my surroundings.

“Amber, can you tell us what condition Detective Lance is in?”

“Amber, what really happened down at the River Gardens?”

“Miss Morgan, is it true that the Elite could have prevented this if the mind of Detective Lance hadn’t been so preoccupied with the upcoming trial of his daughter, Jessica?”

“Miss Morgan, should the people of King City be worried by what escaped from the crime scene this morning?”

Their questions came at me in a barrage of rapid fire, leaving me with no time to gather my thoughts, never mind actually contemplate what they were asking me.

I stared at them, my mind grinding to a dead halt. What was I supposed to say? I didn’t have the answers to their questions, and even if I did, my position with the Elite forbade me from sharing information with them that wasn’t first approved by my superiors.

Pushing out through the crowd of reporters, I kept moving despite the fact that they kept on following me, their questions a never-ending whirlwind of pain and confusion.

“Amber!” A familiar voice called out to me and I lifted my gaze from the ground, where I’d firmly planted it in an attempt to not make eye contact with the paparazzi vultures that surrounded me.

Dex stood on the other side of the road, waving to me from the driver’s side of his black car. Part of me wanted to ignore him, the same part of me that had wanted to kill him earlier in the day for the situation he’d allowed to happen.

The more sensible side of me won out and I broke free of the crowd of reporters, sprinting across the busy street to where Dex already had the engine running. Sliding into the passenger seat, I slammed the door behind and watched the reporters huff and puff on the other side of the road.

Dex pulled away in a squeal of tires, car horns blaring as he cut up other oncoming traffic with his risky driving manoeuvres. I fastened my seat belt and stared out the window next to me as we drove in silence for several blocks. The quiet hum of the radio was comforting and I found my eyelids growing heavy as we wound through the streets of King City’s downtown area.

“How is he?” Dex asked, finally breaking the silence between us.

“They’ve stabilised him, but he went into cardiac arrest on the operating table,” I said, keeping my gaze firmly pinned on the moving landscape beyond the window.

“Shit,” Dex said, pushing his free hand back through his blond curls, causing them to stand on end. “If I’d known this was going to happen….”

I shook my head and dropped my gaze to where my hands were knotted in my lap. “This isn’t your fault, Dex, not really. Sure, you should have listened; contrary to popular belief, I don’t do what I do to get ahead in the media. Looking good isn’t really my aim.”

“And that makes you one of the unusual ones, Amber. Everyone else is always out for themselves, looking for that big case that will send their career into the stratosphere….”

I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy look, and I continued picking at my bloodied nails. “I know, and this is the price, but I can’t hold you responsible—not when Graham knew the risks of this line of work.”

“So what the hell happened out there today? Because from the look on your face when that thing split wide open … I’m guessing you were as much in the dark as I was,” he said, hitting far closer to the truth than I was particularly comfortable with.

“I have no idea; all I do know is that it was strong enough to try and rip Graham apart.”

Dex swallowed hard and turned the wheel, taking us down another side street and bringing the car to a halt in front of a late night coffee shop. One of those little places that usually saw hipsters as its normal clientele. Just the type of place I normally avoided like the plague.

Dex glanced over at me and smiled apologetically. “You looked like you could do with a cup of something hot and, well, this is the only place I know in the area that’ll work.”

“I could have gone for something a little stronger,” I said, jerking my thumb in the direction of the dive bar across the street.

Dex gave me a surprised look before his face broke into a wide grin. “A woman after my own heart, then,” he said, not waiting for me to get out of the car as he hopped out.

Suppressing a shudder, I pushed the thought of having to sit in the hipster coffee shop aside and grabbed onto the idea of getting a double whiskey. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I certainly didn’t fit the usual Irish stereotype where my life revolved around my next binge session, but after the day I’d had, a drink was exactly what I needed—something to settle my nerves. The tremors that had started in my knees and were slowly working their way up my body.

I climbed from the car and started to cross the street as Dex locked the car and caught up, his stride long and easy as he fell into step next to me.

I didn’t look at him, but I could feel his gaze on me. He was obviously holding back, but I could sense his questions bubbling behind his lips like a shaken bottle of cola. Once he started, there would be no stopping him, and I wasn’t ready for that until I had something dark and strong in my hands.

Pushing into the bar, a large, meaty hand planted into the centre of my chest, halting my progress. There was a spark of power to his touch—not much, but it was there, and my own magic instantly responded, flaring along my skin without having to be called forth.

“No teeny boppers. ID, now!”

I glanced up. The voice was gruff and the owner of the voice matched it perfectly; there was a long, ragged scar that ran from the corner of his left eye and disappeared into his bushy ginger beard.

“Get your hand off me and I’ll show you my ID,” I said, the magic flaring across my skin, making me edgier than I should have been.

Gruff grinned at me and lifted his hand before sliding it beneath my chin and tilting my head back so he could see my face under the yellow light in the doorway.

“And what are you?” he asked. The sudden interest in his voice made me uneasy and I knew he’d felt my magic respond to whatever in Hell he was.

“Get your hands off her,” Dex said, suddenly stepping forward as he thrust his police badge into the face of the bouncer.

The bouncer didn’t seem to care that Dex was a cop—he swung his meaty fist up, the blow connecting with Dex’s face before he had the chance to duck out of the way.

With a groan, I moved into the fray, ducking beneath the bouncer’s oncoming second punch and driving my hand up beneath his chin. He grunted, the sound of his jaw snapping shut and the telltale crunch of teeth crumbling beneath the force of the blow had him sprawling back against the door.

“Stay down or I’ll arrest your sorry ass,” I said, grabbing Dex and swinging him back out onto the street.

“That’s police brutality,” Gruff shouted after me, and I shot him the coldest smile I could muster over my shoulder.

“Lucky, then, that I’m an Elite and not a cop,” I said.

The mere mention of what I was had the bouncer instantly rethink his position. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing so hard that his beard ruffled with the motion.

“What are you doing?” Dex asked, rubbing his hand across his jaw. It was already beginning to swell and if he didn’t put ice on it soon, it was going to be out like a balloon before the night was over.

“Getting you out of there before that guy beats the snot out of you….”

“I’m a cop, Amber, he can’t do that. I need to arrest him.” Dex struggled against my grip but it was merely a half-hearted attempt.

“Don’t be more of an idiot than you already are—you barging in there like that, you were lucky he didn’t knock your head completely off.”

“I was looking out for you, he had his hands….”

I cut Dex off with a hard stare. “Thanks and all, but I’m not some damsel in distress. If there’s any saving of my ass to be done, then I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

He seemed to struggle with the notion as I helped him cross the street towards the one place I really didn’t want to go to. But he needed ice and we weren’t going to get it from the dive bar.

The light from the hipster coffee shop spilled out onto the street and a couple that could barely keep their hands off each other stumbled into us as they pushed out through the glass front door of cafe. Gritting my teeth, I ignored their strange stares as we stepped inside and Dex slowly pulled out of my grip.

“What the heck happened to you!” A loud female voice cut across the quiet babble and I jerked my head up in time to see a willowy teenager launch herself between two tables and straight into Dex’s arms.

“Sara, this is Amber, one of my colleagues,” Dex said, shooting me an apologetic grin as the young woman grabbed his face and jerked it up into the light.

“Dex, what happened to your face? It looks like you lost a fight with the back of a bus….”

I liked her already and I tried to hide my smile behind my hand as she continued to pull and tug at him.

“Amber, this is Sara, my little but extremely annoying sister,” he said, with a long-suffering sigh that spoke of an affection that only an older brother could have.

She gave me an accessing stare before nodding curtly. “You’re so predictable, Dex. You’re not even finished with Izzy two minutes when you pick yourself up another bed warmer.”

Her words had me raising my eyebrows. A bed warmer was definitely not something I would describe myself as, and if the thought had ever occurred to Dex that we might mutually console each other, then I would be only too happy to tell him the truth.

“Sara, zip it, it’s not like that. She works for the Elite; we’re working together on a case and, well, today was a crappy day.” There was something in Dex’s tone of voice that made me soften.

The tension I’d felt after hearing Sara’s statement drifted out of my shoulders once more and I sucked in a deep breath as she gave me a second curious glance.

“Now, please, can you just bring us two coffees?” Dex said, giving his sister his most winning smile. It was slightly lopsided, the swelling in his face already beginning to throw his features off in an almost comical way.

“Uh, what sort of coffee?” she asked. “We’ve got espresso, Hawaiian Kona, Boca Sunrise, Peruvian Java, Columbian Dark Roast….”

“What about just ordinary coffee?” Dex said, his confusion evident.

“Those are just ordinary coffees?”

“Then you pick one,” he said, starting towards a table near the back corner.

Sara started to shake her head, her long, blonde hair whipping around her shoulders. “But how will I know which one you’ll like?”

“Take a guess,” he said.

“And you?” she asked, turning to me with a bright smile.

The thought of picking one of the crazy coffees she’d named out left my head reeling. When had coffee stopped being just coffee?

“Do you do tea?”

Her smile widened, and I instantly regretted my words.

“We’ve got, lotus, chamomile, honey dew….”

“Water, I’ll have a water,” I said, cutting her off before she could completely twist my head.

She grinned at me and leaned in a little closer. “I take it this isn’t really your scene?”

I shook my head and gave her an apologetic smile in return. “Not really, I’m a pretty simple soul really.”

“I’ll sort you out with something, you just sit and if that brother of mine tries to pull any funny business, you have my complete permission to kick his ass.”

Grinning, I turned away as she sauntered back up to the counter and started on the drinks. Making my way down through the close-fitting tables and chairs, I dropped onto one of the small armchairs next to Dex. I might not have been a fan of all the different drink choices, but I was definitely glad to get off my feet.

“Sorry about that,” Dex said, cutting through my thoughts.

“About what?”

“Sara. She’s pretty nosey—means well, but a complete pain in my ass,” he said, but I could hear the smile in his voice and it made me open my eyes.

“Is she living at home?” I asked.

“No, she’s going to college here in the city, so she’s staying in the dorms on campus. Got herself the job here so she could have some extra money.”

“Very enterprising,” I said, dropping my voice as I spotted Sara weaving her way back down through the tables, a small tray balanced on one hand.

“Right, one Columbian dark roast, and an Irish Coffee,” she said with a smile as she set them down on the table.

I could already smell the telltale sweet scent of the whiskey in the Irish Coffee and I shot her a questioning glance.

“You don’t need to worry, we’ve got a liquor licence and Tim the barista makes the drinks and he’s over twenty-one,” she said without me needing to even open my mouth.

“Wait, what was that about a liquor licence?” Dex said, his gaze darting back and forth between us.

I grabbed the Irish coffee with a smile and took a deep sip before Dex even had the chance to register what was happening. The creamy coffee and whiskey mix slipped down the back of my throat like silk and I relaxed back into the chair as though someone had wrapped me in a warm hug.

I wasn’t much of a drinker, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy one when I really needed it.

“Oh come on, Sara,” Dex said, screwing his face up as he took the first gulp of his drink. “This is beyond bitter, how does anyone drink this crap? It’s worse than the sludge I can get down at the station.”

“Well, if you like it so much, get your coffee from there,” she said with a wicked grin.

Sara didn’t hang around at the table, pushing the tray under her arm she moved onto the next table and started cleaning away the empty cups and shredded sugar packets.

“What did she give you?” Dex asked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Something you’re not getting your hands on,” I said, gripping the cup a little tighter.

“Typical, you women always stick together,” he grumbled, sniffing at his own cup.

He looked young, far younger than he had earlier in the day, and I wanted to ask him how old he actually was. Graham had said he was the youngest cop to ever earn detective, and watching him over the rim of my cup, I could suddenly understand exactly what he meant.