“That’s what I heard the others call her.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes!” Paige snapped. “How the hell could I not be sure about what a bunch of freaking vampires called each other while they were tearing me and my friends apart?”
Ned sat down on the edge of her bed. “Most people in your situation would have been too frightened to remember such a thing or too affected by the Nymar to remember. Either that or they’d just keep their mouths shut, pretending to forget what happened or force their brains to push it out. This is what I’m talking about. You’ve got a strength that separates you from the rest.”
“My name’s Paige.”
“I know.”
“Then call me that. Don’t just talk about me. Talk to me.”
A trace of amusement crossed Ned’s face. “All right, Paige. Since you seem capable of handling the truth, that’s what I’ll give to you. The serum in this syringe is poison to Nymar. If they left anything in you, this will kill it. If they infected you in any way, this should get rid of that as well.”
“Infected me with what? Will I become a vampire?”
“I could examine you, but I’d want to give you the injection no matter what. Considering all the examinations you’ve endured, I figured I’d just skip the middleman. Hold out your arm.”
Paige got as far as tensing a few muscles, but stopped well before her arm rose above the sheets. “How do I know you’re doing what you say you are?”
“I’d inject myself with the syringe, but that would waste some serum and wouldn’t be very sanitary.”
“I got chewed on by Namor and you think I’m worried about getting an infection?”
“You should always be worried about infection,” Ned replied with a face that was as straight as the plastic tube in his hand. “And it’s ‘Nymar.’ ‘Namor’ is the Sub Mariner from those comic books.” Before she could say anything to that, Ned added, “Lots of people make that mistake. Are you ready for this or not?”
She pulled in a deep breath, held onto it and let it out. “Guess I don’t have anything else to lose.” When Ned extended his hand, he almost got close enough to push the needle into her arm before she said, “What about the others? My friends? You said you knew what happened to them.”
“I know Amy Crabtree is dead. We saw the Nymar drag away the body. Jennifer Walsh was discharged after being treated for blood loss. She recovered quicker than expected, which is normal for someone who’s fed upon normally. The one with the glasses must’ve slipped away.” He then held up the needle and raised his eyebrows as though asking her to proceed without forming the words.
Fixing a stern glare on him as if certain that would be enough to hold him back, Paige asked, “Who are you?”
“Ned Post. I’ve been working at this hospital since about a month or two after Wes and those other Nymar set up shop at the university.”
“Unless the Carle Foundation has some sort of vampire ward, there’s more to it than that.”
Someone walked by the door to Paige’s room. The footsteps stopped, but moved along once Ned nodded toward the door’s little square window. Keeping the same casual, vaguely bored expression on his face, he said, “I’m a Skinner.”
“A Skinner? Is that another comic book thing?”
“No. It’s just what we’re called. The condensed version is that we know about creatures like Nymar and hunt them down.”
“So if you know about Wes, then why aren’t you hunting him down?”
“There’s more to it than that,” Ned hissed. “We need to stay as discreet as possible. There’s no telling what could happen if something is handled sloppily. All of us could be compromised. There could be other Nymar that we don’t know about. If they’re confronted and we don’t have all our bases covered, things can get very bloody very quickly.”
“You mean like what happened to Amy? Like what happened to me?” When she held up her arm to illustrate her point, Ned grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull it away but was held fast within the grip of his rough, thickly scarred hand. Even so, she continued to make it difficult for him to accomplish his task. “You’ve known about these assholes for a month and that’s not enough time to get them?”
“Like I said before, there’s a lot to it.”
“Maybe you Skinners aren’t good for anything but standing around and watching people get hurt.”
Ned jabbed the needle into her arm and injected the serum into her. Then he turned and walked over to the bundle he’d left on the other bed. “You want to do something to the things that did this?” he asked. “You can help us get closer to Wes. Find out how many of them are in town and where they are.”
“You don’t even know that much? Fuck you. I’m calling the cops.”
“They’ve already been here and filled out a missing persons report on a dead girl.” He took the chart from the foot of her bed, quickly looked it over and put it back. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Those words slapped Paige in the face hard enough to keep her quiet.
After putting the syringe away and rolling the bundle up again, Ned tucked it under his arm and approached the door. He stood with his hand on the knob and his foot against the bottom edge in a way that would allow him to keep it from being opened if anyone else tried to join them. “We’ve killed three of those Nymar since we arrived,” he said. “And still, whenever they show themselves again, there’s three in the group other than Wes. Until now we’ve had the leader pegged as a man who looks to be in his thirties with slicked-back hair. He leads the charge on nights like the one you experienced, but that woman always follows. We never thought she was the leader.”
“Why? Because she’s a she?” Paige rubbed her arm, which now warmed as the serum passed through her system. “If you guys aren’t wise to that trick by now, your Skinners might as well pack it up and go home. This stuff kinda burns. Are there any side effects or anything? What if I’m allergic?”
“The only side effect to one dose is the burning. At least, as far as we know. If the Nymar had gotten too deep into you, you would’ve known by now.”
“How?” Paige asked.
“You’d be dead.” Smirking at the way he’d knocked the attitude from her, he added, “You’re fine. Get up, stretch your legs with a walk over to that bed and pick up my card. Don’t bother with the address. If you want to call me, use the phone number, but dial the last four digits in reverse order.”
Paige wasn’t about to take her eyes off of him. She continued nursing her arm, trying not to let the discomfort from her wounds show on her face. After giving her another approving nod, Ned opened the door and left.
Once she’d lost sight of him through the door’s window, she pulled her burning arm in close to her body. Her neck hurt. Her side hurt. Her back hurt where she’d been knocked against the wall. Her head hurt for the same reason. Thoughts of scooting under the covers and curling into a ball drifted through her mind, accompanied by memories of random faces, songs, or anything else that had comforted her over the years.
Suddenly, everything hit her stomach like a load of rancid meat. She hated being pushed into a spot where there was nothing left to do but cry. “Fuck that,” she angrily grunted as she pulled herself up and struggled to free her legs from the snare of intricately tucked sheets and blankets. “Fuck that and fuck them.”
Her legs ached but she moved them anyway.
Everything else ached, but she clenched her teeth against it and turned the pain into kindling that made the flame in the center of her body burn even hotter. The first step she took was crooked and would have become a stumble if she hadn’t clenched her hand into a fist and pounded it against her upper thigh. She reached for the bandages at her neck with every intention of ripping them off, but paused before digging her nails into her skin. Instead, she left the gauze alone so she could snatch the business card from where it was lying at the foot of the other bed.
“You’re up?” someone said at the same time as the door was hastily opened. “That’s so great!”
The young woman who rushed through the door wasn’t wearing her Damn Yankees shirt anymore, but still had the same bouncy curl in her straw-colored hair. Oversized glasses would have dominated a cute face if not for the wide, beaming smile beneath them. She clutched her purse tightly until she got close enough to toss it onto a chair and tackle Paige with a hug.
“Still a little sore, Karen,” Paige grunted.
“Oh, sorry!” Backing away, she shrugged and placed a hand over her mouth as she lowered her voice and said “Sorry” again.
