In Love by Christmas: A Paranormal Romance (34 page)

44

Why the Hell?

“
W
hy the
hell
did you send her there, Will?” the voice of an ancient, and angry, woman grated over the phone.

“You know, Vanessa, it’s good of you to call me. I feel like the biggest shit in the world, and it’s nice to have my oldest friend confirm it.”

“I didn’t call you a shit, Will. I said, ‘Why did you send her there?’ There’s a difference. I don’t want to beat you up. You’ll do that to yourself. I want to help her. Send her to me when they bring her in.”

“No, she should go to Stanford Hospital.”

“If she goes to Stanford Hospital, she’ll die. If not from her injuries, from Enzo Donatore’s goons. What do you think happened at that Institute? They all went nuts? No. Enzo got to them. And guess who can infiltrate Stanford hospital in the blink of an eye?”

“Donatore.”

“Yes. His brother Diego is after them now, and closing. Donatore knows she’s alive, Will. Must have picked it up on that stone of his. He’ll know if she’s at Stanford. That’s where you’d send her.”

“Oh, God, will it ever end?” Will was weeping.

“Send her to me, Will. Tell your pilot to follow my orders.”

Will put a hand over his face and let the tears fall. He’d try. He’d change. He’d take good care of Cass, if she lived.

45

Dead in the Air

T
hey piled into
the van and raced across the silent white countryside to the little Sullivan County airport. No doubt that Donatore’s men were close. The stench of evil was overpowering.

“Go! Go! Go!” Hannah admonished. “They’re right behind us. Their jet is warming up over there.” It was a Gullwing, but not as fast as theirs. “On second thought, we will take a moment’s break.”

Hannah pulled out one of her weapons, fitted it with a silencer and took two shots at the other plane. No one would ever notice the bullet holes, though they probably would notice the extreme drop in altitude in a few hours.

Their jet launched into the air, heading to San Francisco International Airport. The ultra-fast plane screamed across the country. Its custom interior was set up with bench seating in some places and a few sleeping bays, in addition to rows of seats. They laid Cass on an open area of the floor.

“Oh, Jesus,” Leroy said, looking at her feet. Her toes were black. Frostbite. “She’s freezing.” She shivered, so deeply unconscious that she might as well be dead.

“Lie next to her, Leroy. Take your shirt off and warm her up.” Doug began taking his shirt off. He opened her clothes. A vile odor filled the cabin, but he wrapped his naked torso around her anyway. “You do the other side, Leroy.”

Leroy started to lie down next to her, but he couldn’t. He was crying too hard.

Doug said, “It’s OK, buddy. This is worth crying about.” Leroy glanced at Doug and saw that his cheeks also were streaked. Doug had been in love with Cass at one time. This was hard for him too.

“I’ve got warmed blankets,” Hannah hustled up with some folded blankets. “Lift up her legs, Leroy. We’ll wrap these around her.”

Leroy thrust his arms under Cass’s thighs so that Hannah could tuck in the blankets.

The sewer smell became much worse. Leroy pulled his arms out from under her. They were covered with brown-streaked red liquid.

“Is that blood?” The liquid was gushing from beneath Cass. It became a flood. A tsunami. It flowed across the floor, puddling in the valleys and seams of the carpeting. Leroy couldn’t move.

“She’s hemorrhaging. Doug, give me your T-shirt.” Hannah grabbed the shirt and cut it into wide strips with a knife on her belt. She rolled the strips into fat sausages, hands moving so fast they were a blur. “Hold her legs open.” While Doug and Leroy held her, Hannah packed the strips into Cass. The bleeding didn’t stop. The floor was drenched in a wide circle around Cass. The liquid stank. It was brownish red, not the red of fresh blood.

“More padding! Get me more!” Hannah’s voice was shrill. Leroy kept his eyes on Cass. She had bloody crescent-shaped wounds on the lower part of her body, like chunks had been removed. The gashes were covered with pus. What were they? Why did it take so many rolls to stop the blood? Why did it smell like that?

“I’ve stopped the bleeding for now. It will come again and I won’t be able to stop it.” Hannah rose from the floor and walked stiffly to her seat in the front part of the plane. Everyone was quiet, watching her.

Hannah sat down and fell against the plane’s sidewall. Her shoulders began to shake. Leroy heard her breathing, and then her sobbing. She bent, and wept as silently as she could. No one could move. No one knew Hannah Hehrman could cry.

Doug moved over to her, “Is she dying?”

“Oh, my God. She’s
dead
. She cannot live. Her uterus is perforated. Fecal material has spread everywhere. That’s the smell and the color of her blood. She’s burning with fever. Can’t you feel her heat? She’s cold, but underneath, she’s burning. She’s so infected. No one can survive that.” Her eyes raked Doug’s. “They took
bites
out of her, Doug, and left them untreated so that they’d become infected. How long was she in that hole? Oh, God. They killed my baby.”

Hannah began rocking from side to side, arms wrapped around herself. “They killed my baby.”

The cabin was silent.

Leroy looked at Cass, barely alive. Fighting to live. He knew she would fight as long as the tiniest bit of life remained. She always fought.

“Are any of you listening? I’ve been trying to get through for fifteen minutes.” The querulous voice of an old lady erupted from Hannah’s equipment. “What’s going on there?”

“Dr. Schierman. We have Cass. She is dead.” Hannah put away her tears to speak.

“Dead? Pssh! I’ll tell you when she’s dead. She’s got enough life in her for me to feel it from the West Coast. Hannah! Pull yourself together, woman, and save that girl.” The raspy voice began to issue orders.

“Get her temperature down. Wrap her in wet rags. Change them every minute. Pour water on her—whatever works. Set an IV, Hannah, and blast her with antibiotics. Not penicillin. She’s allergic to that. Erythromycin. Blast her with it. And don’t give up until you get her to my house alive. If you lose her, and you will have
me
to deal with. All of you.”

“Who are you?” the old voice cackled. “You in the back holding Cass. With the feathers. Who are you?”

“I’m Leroy Watches Jr., ma’am.”

“You’re Joseph’s grandson.”

“Yes, ma’am. Joseph Bishop’s.”

“
You
, Leroy Watches, will keep her alive until you get here. That will be a bit less than two hours.”

“Three, Vanessa,” Doug said. “You have to count the drive from the airport.”

“You’re not going to the airport. I’m not going to let my girl die in traffic. You’ll land here.”

“You don’t have a landing strip for a jet on your property,” Doug said.

“Of course I don’t. You’ll land on Skyline Boulevard.”

“Skyline? That’s just a track through the trees.”

“Not so. George Yeomen and his fellows have just measured a perfect landing strip right outside my door. Length and width are fine.”

The pilot chimed in. “Dr. Schierman. We can’t possibly do that.”

“Of course you can. When you’re almost here, I’ll send George and the boys out to stop the traffic. They’ll set up lights. You’ll land. All will be well.”

“We can’t do that. It’s illegal.” The pilot was immovable.

“It’s not illegal in a critical emergency. You’re having a severe mechanical breakdown. I’ve been broadcasting your many aeronautical woes to the San Francisco control tower for an hour. They’re surprised you’re airborne. Keep Cass alive or there will be hell to pay. And get here!”

46

Rough Landing

L
eroy looked out
the window. There was nothing to see. No lights. No trees. Nothing, until the wings started clipping branches. The plane didn’t slow down, but snapping sounds filled the air.

“Holy Jesus!” the pilot gasped. “That’s a hiking trail. I can’t land there.”

“Yes, you can,” the old lady’s voice came over the speaker. “We can see you. Land the damn jet. Hurry. She’s almost gone.”

Leroy would never forget the crashing and cracking of branches. They were thrown from side to side in the cabin. The plane hit a tree or something and started to spin horizontally. But the captain got them straight and kept up his efforts when the wheels hit the ground. They bounced, throwing everyone around. They slowed. And then they stopped.

“Open the door! Deploy the stairs!” That croaking old voice.

Leroy carried Cass down the stairway. A bunch of short little men in green dresses just above their knees took Cass, put her in a van, and shot into the darkness.

“No. Don’t take her …” Leroy wailed.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Watches,” said one of the dozen or so remaining by the plane. “You come with us.” He was spirited into an SUV and flew down the black hole into which Cass had disappeared. The forest was so close that it seemed that the branches would break the way they had with the plane. But they didn’t. The trees and branches seemed to move to avoid the vehicle.

“Where are we going?”

“To Dr. Schierman’s house. Don’t worry, lad. The lady has her. She’ll be all right.”

Leroy could see no reason for Cass to ever be all right. The stinking floods of blood, her wounds. The fever. She couldn’t live. Hannah Hehrman was right. She was dead.

They drove straight into massed trees, crashing through the underbrush. For what? Ten minutes? He couldn’t tell with all the jouncing.

Then they hit an open space; the drive went through a lawn. A gigantic black hulk rose beyond it. It was as enormous as some of the country houses he’d seen in Europe. It had two wings, one very tall and at right angles to the other, lower, longer structure. It was dark brick with stone columns. The house had nooks and crannies filled with carved gargoyles and disturbing things. Statues of dragons and things with claws. He saw one move as they drove by.

“What …” Leroy gasped.

“Don’ worry, lad. Pay the house no mind. It will pay you no mind.” They pulled up in front of the house. The front stuck out with a high arch covered in carvings of bats, demons, and people with anguished expressions. Even the benign carvings of flowers and plants looked tortured.

Baying filled his ears. A pack of black dogs surged toward him. Several had heads like barrels, as big as a normal dog’s body. Their faces were wrinkled up, pushed in, and equipped with large teeth.

He squatted and held his hands out. “What are nice dogs like you doing acting like that? Don’t you know I’m your friend? Come here now and let me pet you.”

The dogs whined and tilted their heads in one way and then the other.

The mansion’s door opened. A tall, late–middle–aged woman with very erect posture stood in the doorway. “Welcome, Mr. Watches. I’m Mrs. Naughton, Dr. Schierman’s housekeeper. Come with me.”

“Where is Cass?”

“Cass is being cared for by Dr. Schierman.”

“Is she a doctor?”

“Not a medical doctor. She’s a physicist. A brilliant one. They’re more useful. Come with me.”

“Where’s Cass?”

“You’ll see her tomorrow. This way.” She led him through an entrance hall that was the wooden equivalent of the carved stone exterior. This time carved plants and sort–of–cute animals cavorted on the dark walls, along with ribbon festoons and bows. All of them moved as he passed. Leroy hustled close to Mrs. Naughton.

They went down a corridor at the end of the entrance hall. More spooky carvings, but they seemed to simmer down the farther down the hall they walked.

“This is your room, Mr. Watches.” She opened a door and walked through it ahead of him. It was a nice room with comfortable chairs and two big beds. “Ah, good. Cook has brought you one of Dr. Schierman’s warm milk drinks.” A glass of milk sat on a nightstand between the room’s two beds.

“Here you go. Drink up.” She stood there until Leroy finished it all. “Go take a shower. Put your clothes outside the bathroom door. We’ll wash them and leave a robe for you.”

Leroy did as he was told, finding an extra-tall terrycloth robe on the bed after he showered. He put it on, climbed into bed, and that was it. He was out.