perfectly innocuous into a weapon if the need arose. Or, like me, he might have chosen to ignore the rules and afterward deal with whatever fallout resulted. After all, no one would know, or care, unless something went wrong.
I spotted him sitting in a chrome-and-vinyl chair outside room 305. Paulie, his golden retriever, lay at his feet, wearing the navy blue–and-white vest of a trained assistance animal. Her tail started thumping against the linoleum when she caught sight of me.
Kevin stood as I approached. “Hey, boss. Nothing much has happened so far. Heather Alexander was here earlier. I heard her talking to Michelle through the door. They confirmed the ID on the body. The kid’s been crying ever since.”
“Damn it.” It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still bad news. “Did Alex say anything to you on the way out?”
“She just told me to be careful.”
“Always good advice.”
He grinned, flashing deep dimples. That smile took a good ten years off his age, reminding me of the crush I had on him when I was younger. He’s a handsome man, but the past few years have been hard on him.
“The kid’s going to be here another twenty-four hours. Who should I expect to relieve me at the end of my shift?”
“I’m hoping it will be a new hire. But, honestly, it’ll probably be me. I’ll call and let you know for sure.”
“You sure it’s okay for you here? Sometimes hospitals aren’t the best place for you.”
He was right about that. Fortunately, at the moment I was well fed and not feeling the least bit bloodlusty. Still, it was something to think about. If I came back to relieve him, I’d need to take sensible precautions ahead of time. “When’s your shift end?”
He smiled again. “When do you want it to?”
“Six work for you?”
“Works fine. You do realize it’d be better if we had two people on the door.”
I sighed. He was right, of course. With two, there’d always be someone on guard, with no worries about food or bathroom breaks. Kevin was good, but he was human—mostly—and Paulie had needs, too.
I sighed. I like being in charge most of the time. But sometimes responsibility sucks. “I know. I’m working on it.”
Kevin nodded. “If I need to go, I can use the bathroom inside the room, and Paulie has a cast-iron bladder.”
“Good to know. But I’m still going to get you some backup soonest.” I knocked on Michelle’s door and was rewarded by her inviting me in.
Even though it was a private room, so there was only one bed, there was barely a foot of space to walk around in. The television mounted high on the wall wasn’t turned on, so the soft whoosh of the air conditioner and the beeping of the equipment at the head of the bed were the loudest sounds in the room. I spotted a second door, which I assumed led to the bathroom Kevin had mentioned.
Michelle’s bed had been raised so she was sitting upright. She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“Hello, Michelle.” I looked around, trying to decide where to set my flowers. There were plenty of options, since there was only one flower arrangement in the room. Nearly identical to mine, the carnations yellow rather than pink, it sat on the counter by the window. The lack of cards and arrangements made the room feel bleak. I set my flowers on the windowsill.
The young woman in the bed looked like hell. Tubes coming from bags of blood and something clear that I was betting held antibiotics on an IV stand ran to her arms. She was hooked up to a pain medication pump as well as to various monitors. Her right shoulder was heavily bandaged. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail tied at the base of her neck, a look that didn’t flatter. The hospital gown, faded and shapeless, didn’t do her any favors either, even though most of her was covered by a thin blue hospital blanket. When I’d seen her in the restaurant, her complexion had been warm, with a rose tint to her light brown skin. Now she looked unnaturally pale.
“You were right.” Michelle’s voice cracked when she said the words. “She is dead and she wasn’t really my mother.”
I looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Bullshit.” I kept talking, making sure that every word was emphatic as I could make it. It wasn’t hard. “You may have been adopted. But she
“You don’t know that.” Michelle wouldn’t look at me. Instead, she stared out the window and the singularly unimpressive view—a few treetops, the landing pad for flight-for-life, nothing interesting.
“The hell I don’t,” I said with enough heat that she turned to glare at me. “Listen to me, kid. You would never have made it out of the airport if your mother had told them you were coming. She didn’t.” I moved to stand by the window, looking out so that I didn’t have to meet her gaze. “They probably would never have found you if you hadn’t come looking for me. They’d seen your mother meet with me. They were probably watching to see if you’d make contact. And you did.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, really?” I turned to face her. “Let me guess. You think your whole life was a lie. That you can’t trust any of it.”
She flushed, giving her skin the first hint of real color. The machine monitoring her heart rate reacted to the change in her pulse. She glared at me, too angry for words.
I backed down. “Look, I’m very sorry for your loss. I truly am.”
“You didn’t even know her.”
“No. But I respect what she did.”
“Lying to me? Pretending that I was something, someone I’m not?” It was the outburst of a wounded child. Physically Michelle was an adult, but emotionally she wasn’t there yet, certainly not when under this kind of stress.
“Did you ever think to ask yourself why?”
“The detective said it’s because of my bloodline. That I’m the last member of a clan that was wiped out in some stupid feud.” Michelle’s gaze locked with mine. “It’s insane. I’m not even a mage. I’m a channeler. That’s it.
“I do ghosts, and I’m not even particularly good at that. I can’t control it enough to stay myself when they use me.” She started sobbing.
I grabbed the tissue box and went over to sit on the edge of the bed. She cried hard, but not for long. When she was done, she took a couple of tissues, wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
I embraced the chance for a change of subject. “Personally, I’ve always thought channeling was pretty cool. My sister was a ghost. I would’ve loved to be able to talk with her. Instead we worked out a code with her turning the lights on and off. One was yes. Two was no.”
“I could help you talk to her if you want,” Michelle said. “You saved my life. It’s the least I could do.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks. I really appreciate the offer, but Ivy finally moved on not too long ago.” I took a tissue from the box where she’d set it on the wheeled tray that fit over the bed. I wasn’t actually crying, but I did seem to have the sniffles all of the sudden.
Michelle’s next words were so sad. “Did you get to say good-bye?” She looked at me, her wide brown eyes swimming with tears. “I can’t believe my mom is dead and I didn’t even get to tell her good-bye, didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ or anything.”
I was about to say something trite and reassuring when the temperature in the room dropped like a stone. Michelle stiffened, her eyes rolling back in her head. For a second the machines connected to her body went nuts, then settled back to a normal rhythm.
I recognized the voice, even though I’d only heard it once, for a few minutes. More than that, I recognized the body language. It was so weird, it was Michelle’s body in the bed, but it obviously wasn’t her using it. “Abigail Andrews.”
