Dead Demon Walking (27 page)

Mike came over to lay the flowers on
my sheet. “So Royal’s in a no-service zone. We could send a copter
up there.”

“
No, don’t bother. You’ll
rile a lot of hunters and he’ll be back soon anyway.”

“
And pissed as hell at you,
me and the entire State of Utah when he finds you like
this.”

I dredged up a smile. “Aw, you can
take it, Mike.”

“
How you feeling?” Brad
thought to ask.

“
What do you think?” I
snarled back.

Mike grinned at Brad. “Sounds like her
old chipper self to me. I think we can get back to the
precinct.”

I had a thought. “Mac!”

“
I spoke to Mrs. Crebs,”
Gareth said. “She promised to look after your dog.”

I sighed in relief, and winced. These
ribs were going to give me hell for weeks.

“
You’ve met Gareth?” I said
to Mike, wondering how Gareth introduced himself. As a friend, a
client, the guy who pulled me from my
wrecked
car?

He nodded. “We introduced
ourselves.”

Mike and Brad stood there looking out
of place a minute more, then left me alone with Gareth.

“
Hey! Thanks for coming,” I
remembered to say as they walked out the door.

I felt a warm sensation
under my breastbone. Mike and Spacer came to see me.
Aw
.

I gave Gareth slitty snake
eyes. “
What
is
this about my car?”

I shifted one leg and the flowers fell
off the bed. He bent over his knees to pick them up and waved them
at me.

“
Bin,” I told
him.

“
As you refused the
Cousin’s help, we had to bring you here for treatment. We, and you,
needed an explanation for your injuries,” he said as he tossed the
drooping chrysanthemums in the wastebasket.

With some painful wheezing I managed
to free my arms so I could use a hand for emphasis. “You smashed my
car? You couldn’t concoct an explanation for my injuries which
didn’t involve destroying my transportation? Did it occur to you I
could have tripped and bashed my ribs on a rock or
something?”

I tried to hoist
higher.
Fuck!

Gareth jumped up to press me down
again. “Keep that up and the nurse will come.”

My readings made frenzied blips on the
monitor. I made my body relax. I said nothing more till the nurse I
expected came in to check on me.

“
There is no point in
arguing. What is done is done,” Gareth said sagely after the nurse
left.

I peered into the room. “Where are my
clothes?”

He rose and opened the wardrobe. A
pair of old black jeans and a yellow sweater hung on hangers.
Scuffed brown tennis shoes sat on the floor. What could be a small
pile of underwear and socks perched on the shoes. I didn’t
recognize any of it.

“
Those aren’t mine! Where
are the things I wore?”

He closed the door. “If you recall,
your clothes were beyond the help of a washer and dryer. We
destroyed them. We also bathed you before bringing you here. The
blood on your skin and attire would trigger questions you would not
want to answer.”

“
But - ” I started to
splutter. So they stripped and washed me and put me in some clothes
which no doubt looked like I wore them when I
crashed
.
Good grief!
How many demons had their
hands on my body and saw me naked?

I felt my face redden and decided this
was a “don’t ask don’t tell” situation. I would rather not know. It
would be too embarrassing.

I pushed the sheet down.”I’m
discharging myself.” I tentatively felt the IV in my hand. “Help me
out of this. I have to get back to Royal.”

“
Royal is in good hands.
You must remain here.”

I snarled under my breath, kicked at
the sheet over my knees. “I’m going to Bel-Athaer. Just you try and
stop me.”

“
I don’t have to, Miss
Banks. Bel-Athaer will not open to you.”

I shot ice at him with my eyes. I
should have kept the flowers. I could have shoved them up his
nostrils and suffocated the bastard.

***

Surrounded by strong muscles, ribs are
pretty hard to break. I had two with incomplete fractures and one
nondisplaced fracture, meaning it broke all the way through but
stayed in place, so did not puncture anything vital. Lucky
me.

The most common complications of
broken ribs are caused by not breathing deeply. If you don’t
breathe deeply, mucous and moisture can build up in your lungs and
lead to infection. So you have to make yourself breathe, and it
hurts. I lapped up the pain-killers.

Mel and Jack were glad to see me when
I whimpered myself inside the house. They demonstrated their depth
of feeling by yelling in their whispering voices.

“
What happened to you,
Tiff?” I muttered as I went to my old pink refrigerator for a diet
soda. “We were worried sick about you. So glad to see you
back.”

“
How dare you take off
without a word!” Jack screeched.

“
You have absolutely no
consideration for anyone apart from yourself and that damn dog!”
Mel added.

“
Why are you walking funny,
Tiff?” I mumbled on. “Are you hurt? Oh, you poor thing.”

I turned from the fridge to find
Jack’s finger in my face. “Move that, deadboy, or I’ll break it,” I
warned inanely.

“
You will? Added beating up
dead people to your resume, have you?”

“
As if,” Mel
snorted.

I headed for the table,
slowly.

“
Why are you hunched over?”
Mel asked.

I got vertical, taking deep breaths
like the good doctor told me to.

Jack actually sounded concerned. “Are
you hurt?”

“
Nah. What’s a few cracked
ribs between friends?”

They zoomed to the other side of the
table, so close they could be joined hip to hip. “Why didn’t you
say anything?” Mel moaned.

“
Maybe I would have if
you’d let me get a word in.”

I heard scratching sounds at the
backdoor. Mac? Outside? I bet Wanda let him out and he refused to
come back in, and she had to leave. She’d be back later. I should
call her, let her know I was home.

I got up, went to the backdoor and
opened it. Mac glared up at me.

I glared back. “Well, come in, you
little horror, and stop looking at me like that. Not my fault you
ignored Wanda.” Leaving the door open, I turned my back on him and
returned to the chair. I closed my eyes as I sank down.

Two weighty objects came to rest on my
knees.

Surprised, I opened my eyes to find
Mac up on his hind legs, front paws on my knees. His ears perked
up, went flat, perked, went flat. What was this, some kind of doggy
semaphore? He wagged his tail. Then, paws still on me, he
hopped.

As if he wanted me to pick him
up.

Dumfounded, I looked into his
dark-brown eyes. Mac does not like to be held. He lies on my feet,
but I’ve wondered if it were just to inconvenience me. He likes his
belly rubbed, and behind his ears, and he loves his back scratched.
But holding, cuddling? Not that kind of dog.

I leaned over, got my arms around his
barrel body and lifted him on my knees. Yeah, it hurt. I didn’t
care.

He snuggled against me.

“
What is it, boy?” I
murmured. “Do you know something’s wrong? Does it worry
you?”

He rumbled deep in his
throat.

Smiling, I held him to me and
rhythmically stroked his wiry brindle coat.

***

The phone rang as I eased Mac back
down to the floor. The machine could get the call. I didn’t know
whether I could pry my aching body upright again.

“
Tiff?” Royal
said.

I came up fast and suddenly couldn’t
breathe. Ignoring lack of breath and the crowbar trying to pry my
ribs apart, I launched my protesting body at the
counter.

“
Tiff?”

I grabbed for the phone, knocked it
off the cradle, got it in my hand and to my ear. “Royal? You’re
talking! How can you be talking?”

“
Like most people, I open
my mouth and the words come out.”

“
Jesus
Christ
, Royal! You shouldn’t be on
the phone to me. You should be resting.” He should be asleep.
Didn’t Gelpha doctors believe in sedation?

“
I had to know you are all
right.”

My eyes stung. Hearing his
voice was
so
good.
“
Me
? You’re asking
if
I’m
okay?”

“
I thought of nothing else
when I woke.”

“
Well that was a waste of
energy. You’re tired. I can hear you’re tired. Stop trying to be a
super hero and get some rest.” My eyes wouldn’t stop
watering.

“
I will, when you tell me
what happened.”

I frowned at the phone. “Nobody told
you?”

“
They speculated. You were
there.”

I told him matter-of-factly, as if I
had been an observer, not a participant.

“
But you were
hurt.”

“
Ah, left that out, didn’t
I. Honest, Royal, it isn’t much. I’m feeling better
already.”

His voice sounded fainter now, as if
the effort to speak exhausted him. “I don’t believe
you.”

“
Tough. Now put down the
goddamn phone and rest.”

“
I will. Goodnight,
sweetheart.”

“
Goodnight.” I carefully
replaced the phone in the cradle and let my head drop on my folded
arms.

Chapter
Eighteen

Four days after waking up in a
hospital room, I sat stiffly on one of Royal’s dining chairs.
Getting up from a hard-backed chair is easier than from a low-slung
couch when your body is sore.

The plastic divider still hung across
the living room, the furniture still huddled at the end near the
kitchen. Royal didn’t believe in letting workmen of any profession
loose in his home when not there to watch them, so nothing had been
accomplished for over a week.

I didn’t know what to do. I’d tried
pacing slowly, but it didn’t relieve the jitters. I sat, lacing and
unlacing my fingers, rubbing my thumb over the crucifix and Celtic
knot again and again, straining to hear footsteps outside. I
couldn’t stand this silence much longer. I felt small in Royal’s
big, high-ceilinged apartment. And lonely. I’d never been here
alone before. Royal was always near, cooking in the kitchen,
listening to music, reading, chatting, cleaning up. Holding
me.

I was learning to live with my cracked
ribs. I ate industrial strength ibuprofen like candy, true, but
only to get me through the night. I could cope if I moved slower
than my usual brisk pace and didn’t put pressure on my chest by
bending over. I rigorously took deep breaths to stave off
pneumonia.

I listened to the muted traffic buzz
and muffled voices on Twenty-Second, and considered going back
down, across the road and along to Sunnyside Bakery for some white
chocolate cranberry scones. Royal’s sweet tooth adored those
scones. I could watch for his return through their
window.

The front door opened. I put my hands
flat on the chair and pushed up.

Royal stood outside between
two demons who held him by his upper arms. I saw them as demons but
not the specifics of their appearance; I concentrated on Royal. He
looked
awful
, his
skin sallow, not burnished. His hair gleamed, but not with the
bright luster familiar to me. But all in all, not bad for a man who
should be dead.

The demons stepped back, and were
gone.

Royal came inside and closed the door
behind him. He moved slowly, as if with care, looking ahead with
deliberation.

I went toward him. I didn’t know what
to do with my hands. I wanted to reach for him, but should I? What
if I hurt him?

“
Tiff, you are in
pain.”

There he went again, thinking of how I
felt when that fiend near enough ripped his back apart just days
ago. “It’s nothing.”

“
You are moving lopsided,”
he pointed out.

I hitched my body higher.
Really, it wasn’t too bad; countless people cope with cracked ribs.
“How are
you
feeling?”

“
Okay. Just a little
tired.” He laid his palm on my hair.

I felt his heat on my scalp. “Did your
friends whiz you here?”

He nodded as his fingers moved in my
hair. I wanted to lean into his hand. “That didn’t . . . put stress
on you?”

“
No. I’m fine, sweetheart.
But I think you should sit down.”