her jacket to check out her stomach. “Oh, damn. I liked this shirt.” It was torn into bloody shreds.
“We need to get you upstairs. What happened?” he asked, helping Elise stand.
“That thing I was feeling earlier,” she said. “It was a fiend. And something else, too.”
“A fiend?”
She stumbled when she tried to stand. James caught her. “They’re these little gargoyle-looking demon things.” Elise touched her fingers to the back of her head. They came away clean. “I don’t think they like me.”
“At least we’re in the right place for horrible injuries.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “All I need is a shot of whiskey and an aspirin.”
“I want Stephanie to check you out,” he said. Elise groaned. “Head injuries are dangerous things. We’ll want that looked at.” She didn’t respond, so he went on. “You’re saying a lesser hellborn was just wandering the hospital?”
“Not quite.” They got into the elevator, and she leaned against the wall. Even that small motion made her ache. “The fiend was with someone. I don’t know who. He was dead.”
James stared. “…Dead.”
“Yeah.” The elevator chimed and began to move. “There was a toe tag on his foot and his skin was blue. He looked like he’d been dead for a couple days.”
“So the fiend was dragging him.”
“No.”
“How was it moving him, then?”
“You’re not getting what I’m saying,” Elise said. “He attacked me. He was animate, but…unconscious.”
“A zombie,” James said.
“I guess. Damn, my head hurts.”
“Hold still. We’re nearly there.”
They got off at the ground level, and James guided Elise toward the nurse’s station. He interrupted a passing candy striper. “Excuse me, but do you know where Dr. Whyte is at the moment?”
“She just went that way.” The girl pointed.
Just around the corner, Stephanie spoke to a pair of men in suits clutching attaché cases. She took one look at the blood on Elise’s shirt and excused herself, ushering James and Elise into an empty room.
“What happened?” the doctor asked, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.
“I got in a fight. Something—someone—hit me in the back of the head.”
Stephanie nodded. “Sit.”
Elise perched herself on the bed, and Stephanie drew a chair up to her side. The doctor thumbed open Elise’s eyelids. She had a second to register Stephanie’s badge—Dr. Whyte, with so many degrees after her name they almost didn’t fit—before a bright light blinded her.
“What year is it?”
“Two thousand nine.”
“Hold still. What’s your full name?”
“Elise Christine Kavanagh.”
Stephanie shone the light in her other eye. “Good. Move your arms. Good. And your legs.” She grabbed a blood pressure cuff off the wall and gestured for Elise to remove her coat. “Hold still for a minute.”
“Is she okay?” James asked, hovering nearby as Stephanie worked.
After a handful of quiet seconds, the doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears again and removed the cuff. “If someone was trying to hurt you badly, they failed. Here, have a couple of these.” Stephanie pulled a bottle of extra-strength headache medicine out of her pocket. “For the next few days, you need to watch out for headaches, sudden fatigue, difficulties with speech or sight. If you experience any of these symptoms, call an ambulance. What happened to your abdomen?”
“Fight with a rabid badger,” she said curtly. “Do you have time to look at it or not?”
“I could be spending this time making friends with the directors.” Stephanie pressed a thermometer to Elise’s forehead. “You’re surprisingly healthy for fighting badgers. Take off your shirt and lay back.” She grit her teeth and lifted her shirt over her head. The skin below her strapless bra was torn and bloody. Purple bruises were rapidly rising on her torso. “When did you get in this fight?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“Interesting. This
“We need to get you upstairs. What happened?” he asked, helping Elise stand.
“That thing I was feeling earlier,” she said. “It was a fiend. And something else, too.”
“A fiend?”
She stumbled when she tried to stand. James caught her. “They’re these little gargoyle-looking demon things.” Elise touched her fingers to the back of her head. They came away clean. “I don’t think they like me.”
“At least we’re in the right place for horrible injuries.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “All I need is a shot of whiskey and an aspirin.”
“I want Stephanie to check you out,” he said. Elise groaned. “Head injuries are dangerous things. We’ll want that looked at.” She didn’t respond, so he went on. “You’re saying a lesser hellborn was just wandering the hospital?”
“Not quite.” They got into the elevator, and she leaned against the wall. Even that small motion made her ache. “The fiend was with someone. I don’t know who. He was dead.”
James stared. “…Dead.”
“Yeah.” The elevator chimed and began to move. “There was a toe tag on his foot and his skin was blue. He looked like he’d been dead for a couple days.”
“So the fiend was dragging him.”
“No.”
“How was it moving him, then?”
“You’re not getting what I’m saying,” Elise said. “He attacked me. He was animate, but…unconscious.”
“A zombie,” James said.
“I guess. Damn, my head hurts.”
“Hold still. We’re nearly there.”
They got off at the ground level, and James guided Elise toward the nurse’s station. He interrupted a passing candy striper. “Excuse me, but do you know where Dr. Whyte is at the moment?”
“She just went that way.” The girl pointed.
Just around the corner, Stephanie spoke to a pair of men in suits clutching attaché cases. She took one look at the blood on Elise’s shirt and excused herself, ushering James and Elise into an empty room.
“What happened?” the doctor asked, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.
“I got in a fight. Something—someone—hit me in the back of the head.”
Stephanie nodded. “Sit.”
Elise perched herself on the bed, and Stephanie drew a chair up to her side. The doctor thumbed open Elise’s eyelids. She had a second to register Stephanie’s badge—Dr. Whyte, with so many degrees after her name they almost didn’t fit—before a bright light blinded her.
“What year is it?”
“Two thousand nine.”
“Hold still. What’s your full name?”
“Elise Christine Kavanagh.”
Stephanie shone the light in her other eye. “Good. Move your arms. Good. And your legs.” She grabbed a blood pressure cuff off the wall and gestured for Elise to remove her coat. “Hold still for a minute.”
“Is she okay?” James asked, hovering nearby as Stephanie worked.
After a handful of quiet seconds, the doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears again and removed the cuff. “If someone was trying to hurt you badly, they failed. Here, have a couple of these.” Stephanie pulled a bottle of extra-strength headache medicine out of her pocket. “For the next few days, you need to watch out for headaches, sudden fatigue, difficulties with speech or sight. If you experience any of these symptoms, call an ambulance. What happened to your abdomen?”
“Fight with a rabid badger,” she said curtly. “Do you have time to look at it or not?”
“I could be spending this time making friends with the directors.” Stephanie pressed a thermometer to Elise’s forehead. “You’re surprisingly healthy for fighting badgers. Take off your shirt and lay back.” She grit her teeth and lifted her shirt over her head. The skin below her strapless bra was torn and bloody. Purple bruises were rapidly rising on her torso. “When did you get in this fight?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“Interesting. This
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