Grey Dawn (30 page)

The face that turned up toward her was bereft. ‘But … Raleigh said he needed a home.'

Dulcie nodded, feeling worse with each passing second. ‘I know. She called the area shelters. But, well, I've heard of someone who is looking for a lost kitten.' This was awful. ‘If you lost a kitten like this, you would want to know he was all right, wouldn't you? And you'd want to get him back?'

It didn't help that Thorpe had turned from her. She saw him nodding and knew she had won her case. But still she stood there, frozen, as he reached down and stroked the little orange head. In response, the kitten reared up to attack, wrapping his front paws around Thorpe's fingers. Dulcie didn't think it was the kitten's tiny teeth that caused Thorpe's sharp intake of breath.

‘Of course.' He said, with a little sniff. ‘Of course, someone would want this little fellow back. He must be so relieved. Or she, of course.' Still crouching, he carefully disengaged himself from the tiny claws and started to close up the box. Dulcie saw where ventilation holes had been knocked in the side. A minuscule paw poked out, feeling for his new friend, and Thorpe gently touched it with his own finger before handing the box to Dulcie.

‘I was going to call him Tigger,' he said.

S
he was a heel. A witch. A cruel, cruel person. With each step Dulcie took, she came up with another name. It didn't matter that she had done what she could to mitigate the situation – promising to bring the little orange kitten back if he did not happen to have an owner (which really meant if she could prove that Thorpe wasn't a werewolf). It didn't matter that she had even consoled herself with the thought that her adviser could probably find another pet, thanks to the desperate – and non-supernatural-suspecting auspices of the local shelters. What she had done was mean and hurtful, and it had been all she could do to go through with it, taking the box from Thorpe and averting her own tear-filled eyes in her efforts not to see his. Thorpe had bonded with the kitten. With Tigger. If Dulcie's fears were accurate, her adviser had bigger problems then the loss of a kitten. But this one was on her, and she felt awful about it.

‘I'm sorry, little fellow.' She spoke to the box as she walked, trying to placate the annoyed mews that emanated from the ventilation holes. ‘I really am. I just had to make sure you were safe. And if you are …'

She'd bring him back. Of course she would. She'd make up some story and trust that Raleigh and Lloyd wouldn't expose her. If only she could find out sooner rather than later. But how?

Dulcie had toyed with the idea of luring Thorpe out into the moonlight. The autumn afternoon was already fading, and the sky had remained clear. Surely, that rising moon would be enough, shining down on her adviser's balding pate. If he changed, so be it. She'd deal somehow – it would still be daylight. And if he didn't? No, Dulcie kept walking. She would take Lucy's warning in order to protect the kitten. But she couldn't trust it beyond that. Lucy could be wrong, and a full or nearly full moon be necessary for the transformation. Maybe night's darkness was the essential ingredient. If only she could be sure.

If only someone could tell her.

Dulcie stopped, box in hand. Mina. If the girl had been stirring a few hours ago, maybe she'd be awake now. And while neither Emily nor Renée Showalter had seen their attackers, Mina had had a much more prolonged struggle. Even if Mina couldn't identify who – or what – had jumped her, her description might help Dulcie. A few words from the girl could clear or condemn Thorpe, at least as far as Dulcie and the kitten she was carrying were concerned.

Forgetting all thoughts of home, Dulcie started hurrying toward the university health services. Her jogging pace clearly annoyed the kitten, who was now mewing regularly inside his box. What she'd do with the kitten once she got to the infirmary was a problem, but Dulcie didn't care. She looked up at the Memorial Church clock – it was a little after three. Too late to bring the kitten home and then come back, but maybe she wouldn't have to. As far as she remembered, visiting hours ran until five, and she wouldn't need long.

The kitten had quieted down by the time Dulcie reached the infirmary. So quiet, in fact, that Dulcie had panicked briefly. ‘Kitty! Tigger, are you all right?' She ducked by the side of the building and pried the interwoven flaps open. The blue eyes looking up at her blinked once, and she realized she was breathing again. ‘Thank you, kitten,' she said, closing the box back up.

As she approached the health services' door, her other problem resolved itself. She'd gotten warm jogging up here and begun to unbutton her sweater. Approaching the front door, it seemed natural to shrug off the bulky knit and casually drape it over the box in her arms. If the kitten started mewing again, she'd be outed, but for now, they were good.

‘Miss?' She had been walking past the front desk when the receptionist called her. It was the kitten, she was sure. ‘May I see your ID?'

‘Oh, of course.' With a sigh of relief, Dulcie put the box down, out of sight of the clerk behind the desk, and fished out her wallet. ‘I'm here to visit a friend up on the third floor.'

‘Here you go.' The receptionist handed back her wallet. ‘Visiting hours end at five today.'

‘Thanks.' Trying to look as casual as she could, Dulcie hoisted the box under one arm and strolled over to the elevator. When nobody called after her, she figured she'd made it, but not until the doors opened did she truly start to breath easily.

The first room she peeked into was empty, as was the next. At the door of the third, she heard muted conversation. A doctor or a nurse, probably, and she stepped back until a short man came out, carrying folded bed sheets.

‘Hello?' The door was ajar, but she knocked on it softly.

‘Miss?' The sight of a university police officer was a little disconcerting. The fact that he had stepped in front of her was even more so. ‘I'm afraid I can't let you in.'

Of course. Mina's protection. At least now she knew why Emily had been barred from her room-mate's bedside. But hadn't Josh said that he was going to visit?

‘I thought Mina could have visitors?' Dulcie tried her best to look like a clueless friend. At the very least, the clueless feeling was real. ‘Can't she?'

‘One at a time,' the officer said. ‘Supervised.' As if to confirm, he turned and looked into the room behind him. The door was open far enough for Dulcie to make out the white curtain that separated the beds, and a pair of white uniform shoes.

‘I don't see anyone in there.' Dulcie peeked by him. ‘Just the nurse.'

‘Please wait here.' The officer ducked into the room, and Dulcie could hear him consulting with someone who spoke softly. In a moment, he'd come back out. ‘I guess you're okay to go in. Her last guest must have left without my noticing.'

Dulcie felt her eyebrows shoot up. Had the guard considered that orderly a guest? Surely, this wasn't the kind of surveillance that would keep a young woman safe. Then again, it wasn't the officer's duty to keep track of who
left
Mina's room – and it wasn't Dulcie's place to say anything. Instead, she nodded and thanked the young cop, and, box balanced on her hip, stepped inside.

The room wasn't, she was glad to see, any kind of fancy intensive care unit. Though there was some machinery and a monitor, Dulcie thought it was showing Mina's heart rate and blood pressure, it looked like any other infirmary room. Her condition – or maybe her security needs – had gotten her privacy, but nothing fancy in terms of accommodations. The room was still divided by curtains, sectioned for four beds, two on each side. Although the curtains were drawn on the left, which was dark, the right was open and Dulcie walked by one empty bed on her way in. This side of the room was softly lit. And on the second bed, back by the window, lay a young woman, her throat heavily bandaged. By her feet, an aide sat, reading.

‘Hello.' The aide said. ‘I'm Anna. You can sit in that chair if you want.'

‘Thanks.' Dulcie pulled up the empty seat, setting the box down, and looked at Mina. Josh had been right; the young woman appeared to be asleep rather than comatose. If it weren't for those bandages, Dulcie wouldn't have been able to tell. Except, perhaps, for her extreme pallor, and the presence of an aide who, Dulcie well knew, also acted as a secondary guard. ‘She's been having other visitors?'

‘Tons.' The aide smiled. ‘I think they're helping. People talk to her, you know. About classes she's missing, about political meetings. Even gossip.' Anna's voice was soft. ‘You should, too. I can't leave you alone, but pretend I'm not here. She can hear you, I'm pretty sure.'

‘Hey, Mina.' Dulcie spoke softly. ‘How're you doing?' It was a lame beginning, but Dulcie didn't dare let on that she had not really known this girl – not with an attendant sitting right there. She could, however, test out the prone girl's reaction to some names. ‘I hear you've been having lots of visitors. Lots of your friends have come by. Your boyfriend, Josh.' Dulcie paused, looking for any sign of movement. Nothing. ‘I know that Martin Thorpe of the English department has meant to visit.' Nothing. ‘You might not know his name, but he's a skinny guy. Bald head.' Nothing, and Dulcie realized that if her adviser had indeed transformed, her description might not be apt. ‘Well, actually he's really hairy. Big teeth.'

Nothing, and to top it off, Anna the aide was looking at her funny.

‘Well, maybe not, then.' It was time to move on. ‘But a lot of your friends did.' She looked at Anna, who nodded. ‘And I'm glad.'

Dulcie was: Emily had said Josh had cut her off from her friends. Maybe they had just been waiting for their opportunity to reconnect.

‘I'm here because we have some people in common. Maybe something else, too.' She paused. It felt odd to be talking to someone so silent. If she could hear her, though, then maybe she would be interested. ‘A certain author, maybe.'

The girl's eyelids fluttered, as Dulcie watched. Rogovoy had been right; she and Mina did look alike, she realized. Not exactly: the head that lay on the pillow was pale, and the curls brushed neatly back were more red. Dulcie brought her fingers up to her lips, curious. Were her own quite so full?

As if on cue, Mina's mouth moved ever so slightly, and Dulcie leaned forward. If the girl was saying something …

‘I'm sorry, you can't touch her.' The aide was standing.

‘I understand.' Dulcie settled back into her chair. ‘It's just that I have news.' She turned to the girl, almost certain Mina could hear her. ‘It's really exciting, Mina. This visiting professor – Renée Showalter – you probably know she was supposed to give a lecture? She has some new documents she's sharing with me. Something about this author we're both studying. I've found some really great stuff on her in the Mildon that's related, and the professor says there's more. When you're better, I can show you. They're primary sources. Original documents, so you might be interested. I mean, it's sort of genealogical, and I know that's one of your interests.'

Was it? Hadn't Josh said otherwise? ‘At least, I think it's one of your interests.' Dulcie looked at the silent girl. She didn't know her, but she wished she did. It seemed like they'd have a lot in common, a lot besides curly red hair. ‘I know I don't know you, not really. But I've been hearing a lot about you from your room-mate, Emily.'

Dulcie stopped short: Mina had moved her head, just slightly, as if she were trying to turn toward Dulcie. As if she were trying to say something – to wake up.

‘Mina, what is it?' Dulcie stood to lean over the bed. Anna got up, too, but hung back, watching. ‘Is it Emily? Something about Emily?'

‘Her room-mate was here earlier,' the aide said. ‘I think she left to get Mina's prosthetic.'

‘Her prosthetic?' Dulcie shook her head. She really didn't know anything about the girl on the bed. Though Josh had said something about a disability.

Anna was explaining. ‘There was a car accident when she was a child. Surgeons were able to basically rebuild her leg, but her foot was too damaged.'

‘I didn't know.' Was that why Mina and her room-mate had first bonded? Did that partly explain Josh's possessiveness? Did he see himself as the caretaker of a poor crippled girl?

‘I'm sure most people don't even notice, but I gather she limps at times,' Anna said. ‘Maybe it was wishful thinking that she'd be up and about soon, but we've seen stranger things.'

They both turned to the girl on the bed. Mina was still now, though Dulcie sensed a movement behind her eyelids, almost as if she were looking from one woman to another.

‘I think the mention of her room-mate almost woke her,' Dulcie said, watching the pale face. ‘Did she respond when Emily was here?'

‘That's the funny part,' said Anna. ‘She didn't. In fact, she seemed to be holding particularly still.'

A
lthough Dulcie spent a while longer, strangely drawn to the girl in the bed, she left the infirmary with more questions than answers. Maybe it was foolish to hope that Mina would have awakened, and would have been able to tell Dulcie – and the police – who had attacked her. Still, she had hoped for something.

As soon as she had left Mina's room, she had gone into the ladies' to check on the kitten. As grateful as she was for the small creature's silence, Dulcie couldn't help but worry. Inside a stall, however, she saw there was no reason: the little creature had curled up, tucking his nose under his tail, and gone to sleep. Dulcie folded the box top back up as quietly as she could after that and tried her best to hold it steady as she left the building.

Five o'clock, and it might as well be midnight. The brutal wind that had cleared the clouds had ushered in a cold front, and Dulcie shivered, holding the kitten's box against her body. It would be better for the kitten, she told herself, if she took him home now. She could create a quarantine area. They could both warm up and relax a little. And Esmé? Well, Esmé had been acting out lately, no doubt feeling neglected. She wouldn't like this, Dulcie was sure, but Dulcie would find a way to make it up to her. And the little tuxedo cat would understand. It wasn't like she begrudged Chris her attention.