Palatial didn’t begin to describe it. I felt like I had stepped into a high-end furniture showroom. The room was easily three to four times larger than any normal hospital room. There was enough space to fit four more beds and still have room left over for something small, like a jacuzzi or a bus.
An Eames sofa sat along one side of the room. Behind it, was a series of three large, dark rosewood Smania bookcases filled with books. Opposite the sofa, and across the large Persian center rug, sat a medium-sized desk from the same Italian craftsmanship as the bookcases, with a pile of books spread out across its surface. All of the books on the table were open to different sections. Sitting on the desk was a large notepad with Monty’s handwriting on the page.
The bed was an oversized, industrial behemoth. It looked like someone had seen a hospital bed and created one for an ogre or a giant. I turned back and looked at the door, which was definitely too small for the bed to pass through, and shook my head.
Monty sat in the enormous bed with his laptop and looked up as I entered. A small smile crossed his lips as he closed his computer. His hair was in the usual Monty style—just this side of unkempt. He held a teacup and took a small sip as I crossed the expanse that was his room. His face was slightly drawn but had good color. He looked like a somewhat thinner version of his usual self.
Peaches gave Monty a low rumble. Monty returned the greeting with a nod. My hellhound did a few circles, plopped down on the rug next to the bed, and a few moments later, I heard the low snore. I looked around the room once again, took off my jacket and placed it on one of the several chairs around the desk.
“The next time I need some downtime,” I said, pulling another chair to the bed and turning it so the back faced Monty, before sitting. “I’m going to ask Roxanne to save me this room. Do I have to make a reservation to get this room?”
“Roxanne has gone a bit overboard,” Monty said, glancing around the room. “She wanted to make sure I was comfortable.”
“This has crossed comfortable and stepped right into decadent,” I said. “Can I sit on the Eames?”
“I wouldn’t,” Monty answered. “She doesn’t even want me to sit on it and supposedly it was for my comfort.”
“Ah, okay, house rules then.”
“Precisely.”
“It pains me to see you suffering so,” I said, looking around again. “How do you get through your days in this room? It must be sheer torture.”
“It’s good to see you, Simon,” Monty said. “Have you come to rescue me?”
“Rescue you?” I asked, incredulous. “You don’t look like you need rescuing. In fact, I think I’m moving in. Can I get a bed like yours?”
“Roxanne may have an opinion about that,” Monty said. “She was reluctant to admit you to my Vetted Visitors list. Something about you being a negative influence on my recovery.”
“Me? A negative influence on you? Seriously?”
“Boggles the imagination, I know,” Monty replied. “You are a paragon of virtue and positivity.”
“Damn straight I am,” I said. “You’re looking good—thin, but good. Is Roxanne not feeding you?”
“Of course she’s feeding me.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she’s planning on keeping you too weak to leave.” I looked around nervously. “Can she hear us? The room is amazing, but a gilded—”
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Monty said. “Her intentions are in the right place, but—”
“You’re not?”
“Precisely,” he said, putting down his cup. “Your arms? Are those scars?”
I looked down at the jagged crisscrossed lines that decorated my arms. It was Evers’ parting gift to me before she died. She gifted me with a lattice of pain…a reminder that even immortals could die.
“Evers was using the same kind of blade the Lucent had. I’m told the scars will fade eventually as my body deals with them.”
“She held a kamikira?” Monty asked pensively. “That was unexpected. Those blades are extremely rare.”
“And extremely sharp,” I said, holding up a forearm. “By the way, where did Roxanne find Paul Bunyan the sorcerer and his team? He comes across as pretty powerful.”
“Did you antagonize him?”
“Funny, he asked me not to agitate you, as if you were easily agitated,” I said. “Imagine you, agitated. You are the calmest mage I know.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Why would I antagonize him? I’m just here to visit my good friend who nearly lost his mind. Hey”—I pointed to the walls of the room—“these walls, are they made of rubber?”
“Elias and his team,” Monty began, ignoring my rubber-wall statement, “are a highly trained sorcerer security force. Angering them would be unwise.”
“We almost got off on the wrong foot when I thought they were locking you in,” I said. “Then I used diplomacy.”
“Oh no,” Monty said, concerned. “How many casualties?”
“None…on this floor.”
“On this floor?” Monty asked warily. “What do you mean, ‘on this floor’? How many floors have you visited today?”
“Well, we had a slight misunderstanding in the lobby. Nothing major. I got knocked up. Then Peaches gently mangled a few of the team; well, most of the team. There may have been some minor destruction—nothing that can’t be fixed with some sheetrock and a fresh coat of paint—but it wasn’t our fault. They started it.”
“You got knocked around?” Monty asked. “Who started what?”
“Oh right,” I said. “They have percussive mages downstairs with twitchy fingers. Hit me with some blasts, bounced me off a wall, then it all went to hell…hound.”
“You contained the damage to the lobby?”
“Totally,” I said with a nod. “Elias Bunyan and his crew look potentially lethal. Didn’t want to chance another misunderstanding. Really flexed my diplomacy up here. Did you know he could cast in the null area of the floor? Heavy hitter.”
Monty pinched the bridge of his
