Nursery Rhymes 4 Dead Children (9 page)

Chapter 13

Two burly paramedics burst through the doors of Our Lady of Mercy, pushing a dead girl on a gurney. Some kind of device jutted from between her swollen lips. Her pale hands twitched as the pair rushed her down the hall. Mike took his coat off and draped it over his arm as he watched them disappear around a corner.

Not dead. She just looks like it.

He stopped outside room thirteen. Machines beeped and his heart tapped a counter rhythm. Part of him hoped to see the hot brunette who’d been there earlier in the day.

Maybe I’m lonely. Wouldn’t that be something?

But he didn’t feel lonely. He shook it off. Glad the military had taught him to deal with facts, objectives, results; while acting in the Soaps had taught him to not take life so serious, that so many other people were only acting as well. Mike pictured himself holding his rifle in the hospital’s hall—a Grim Reaper again. He chuckled, doubting it’d entertain anyone else. His hand hovered over the door.

Angela appeared beside him. Mike jumped. She ran her fingers over the wood. “Your past waits in there. Your childhood. I understand why you don’t want to face it.”

“Are you following me?”

“I was bored. I told you I don’t sleep.”

“Be bored somewhere else.” He looked back at the door, saw his hand was still up. He lowered it.

“I’m here for you. I want to help.”

Why, for Christ’s sake? Don’t you have problems of your own to tend to?

Mike leaned against the wall and rubbed his face. “Do you drink coffee?”

“I might.” She moved and he watched her, intrigued and repulsed. A smile parted her lips and she threw her head back, spun in a circle like she was goddamn Mary Poppins again. Brushing his arm, her hand tugged at his dangling coat. “Come on. We can’t sleep, might as well get to know each other better.”

He nodded. “Where are you from?”

“Far away from here.”

They walked toward the cafeteria. Mike grinned in spite of himself. He liked her presence, her pestering, just like he had the crazy little redheaded bitch in the diner. Both of them had some joy he had a hard time cornering and latching onto for himself.

Angela pointed him to a table, went to the counter, and filled two styrofoam cups with coffee. When she sat down across from him, she put her chin on the back of her hands and let out a long breath. She reminded him of the witch in Cuba, the one who was but wasn’t. A specter wearing flesh. A demon. And how their relationship had almost destroyed him.

“So,” he said. “How far is far away? Like hell?”

She tilted her head. “Do I look like I’m from hell?”

“No. But monsters aren’t always ugly.”

She nodded and ran a finger around the lip of her cup. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

“How did my mom hire you? You never said.”

“Is it that important?”

“How long do you plan on hanging around?”

“As long as it takes. But it’d be best if we settle everything within the next two days.”

“For what?” he leaned into the plastic chair and put both of his hands on the table. Her hair blew across her throat but Mike didn’t feel a breeze. He looked around.

“I wish you could trust me.” Angela sipped from the cup and he waited for something drastic to happen, like he’d be able to see it make its way down to her stomach through transparent flesh. “You think I’m something?”

“Something, sure.” He grinned, electricity in the air.

She grinned and they sat in silence, both of them feeling out something that Mike feared wasn’t even there. He cleared his throat. “Earlier you said you wanted to help me and John. With what? And don’t answer me with a question.”

“Does it annoy you? Not knowing?”

“It doesn’t help.”

Angela dipped her finger in the cup and dripped coffee over the table. Her hands worked paths through the liquid until images formed, of the manor, the mountains, a large raven in a midnight sky, eyes lit by moon and full of mischief. “There’s trouble at the threshold of your heart. Lines have been crossed and crossed again. You bleed your anger out on those you love, as does he, but another collects them like offerings made to heaven.”

“You a witch?”

“No. But I see what is to come. I’m here. We can work out a trade.”

“A trade, huh? For what?”

“You face a test that will break the fibers binding your heart. You’ve faced others before, but this one never ends. It’s perpetual.”

“You know all about me.”

“And your friend.”

John wasn’t in Cuba. He didn’t see. And he didn’t partake of that madness.

“So, you’re going to protect us?”

She ran her finger through the coffee and the liquid hardened, lined with frost. Angela smashed her fist down and the table shattered, disintegrated, a puff of dust coating their legs. The woman at the counter had her nose buried in a book. Mike rubbed his mouth. “I don’t know what you are, but I don’t need your help.”

“You think I’m something I’m not. I’m not like that witch doctor.”

“I’m not thinking anything. I’ve seen enough sorrow to know that you’re only out to bring more.”

She shook her head and touched his knee, her fingertips like a blast of winter wind. “You need to let me help you. You can’t face what’s coming by yourself.”

“Yeah? And you still haven’t told me what it is you want in trade.”

“You know what I want.”

“I haven’t got a clue.”

You want what the monster wanted before?

He waited for her to answer his thoughts, disappointed when she didn’t. “Who is the raven, Angela?”

“What raven?”

“The one you just showed me.”

She laughed and the woman behind the counter threw them a distasteful look as she thumbed a page of her book, totally unaware of chaos swirling under her nose. Mike waited for her to ask where the table had gone, but she said nothing and it only reinforced his belief that too few people looked behind themselves, paid attention.

Shit’s going down. I better talk to John and see what she’s said to him.

Angela leaned across the empty space and Mike felt the pull of her energy. It tugged at the bones beneath his flesh. She kissed the corner of his mouth and he jerked back, almost fell out of his chair. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

“Call your friend. Tell him that there’s a girl weaved into your lives. She lies broken in a room here.”

Mike stood. “Don’t touch me. I don’t like it.”

“Call Johnathan, Michael. You two have to lean on each other.” She straightened her clothes and winked at him. “I’m not all evil. Only this flesh, this mind. My heart is pure.”

She walked past him and the ground beneath her bare feet started to rot. Black fungus spread across the white and blue tile.

* * *

I woke to my cell phone’s shrill ring. Cat slammed her fist into my back. “You better not answer that. We just laid down and I’m exhausted.”

I stared at the screen. “It’s Mike.”

I wondered how he got my number.

“And he can wait until tomorrow.”

Darkness draped the bed, light from the kitchen spilling through the doorway, meeting it, like a line representing two extremes. Ethan snored, barely audible. I answered the phone. Cat hit me again and rolled away, bed springs squeaking. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mike? What’s up?” Mike told me to come to Our Lady. A girl had been attacked. My guts twisted and a sharp pain flared across my forehead. I needed sleep more than anything, but I wanted to see him, wanted someone to tell me that it was going to be all right. “Can it wait till morning?”

“I don’t know. You know the girl caretaking the estate?”

“What girl?”

“She knows you. Us. We’ve got to talk. It won’t take long, but it’s important.”

I sat up against the headboard as Cat jumped out of bed, her hand against the side of her face, feet carrying her out of the bedroom. I sighed. “I’m exhausted.”

“You’re going to be a lot more so before this is through.”

“Before what’s through?”

“Come on. I’ll explain it in person. I’ve been wanting to see you anyway. It’s been a long time. Room 21”

Hearing him say it felt good. I’d never had another friend like him, and even with a few years of not speaking while he lived out west and spent his time acting in some lame dramas, the bond we shared had never severed. It was still taut. I climbed out of bed. “Okay. Give me fifteen minutes.” Mike hung up. I grabbed my clothes. Cat waited in the kitchen, her arms across her chest, staring at the floor. “I’ll be back.” Cat grunted and turned toward the window over the kitchen sink. I pulled my jacket on and tried to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t.”

“This is not by choice. And the sooner it’s over, the faster our lives are going to get back to normal.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

I stroked her arm and she shrugged it off. “Is this because I’m going out to meet Mike? Or because of what I told you earlier?”

“Does it matter at this point?”

I guess not.

I left her standing there, ashamed of the anger I felt. It didn’t feel justified.

* * *

Brandy laid in bed, her eyes closed. Jim White sat next to her, his eyes hooded, trembling hands draped in his lap. I stared at him for a moment, wondering why Jim was there, and how he’d heard that something had happened to the mayor’s daughter.

“Is she going to be okay?”

Jim looked up, his face pale. Small red lines stood out along both sides of his nose.
Funny the things that are there, things we never notice about someone because we’re too busy barreling through life.

“She’s in a coma, John. I don’t know if she’ll be okay. She was attacked.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked first.”

Jim’s shoulders sagged. “I spend a lot of time walking around the hospital. It reminds me of where I stand.”

“Stand in what?”

“In life. Things can shatter at any moment, relationships, careers, your health.”

Tell me about it.

Jim touched Brandy’s hand and squeezed it. “You look exhausted, John. How did you know she was attacked?”

“Mike called me.”

“I thought I saw him earlier.” Jim stared at Brandy. “Do you think a kid deserves something like this happening to her?”

“I don’t even know what happened. Mike just told me to come up, that it couldn’t wait.” Her skin lay smooth on her face, hair swept across her forehead, lips pouting as if she were trapped in a horribly sad dream. My heart buckled, knowing that if Pat and the others had helped me find the dead girls’ killer this might have never happened to Brandy. I tried to rub away the lump in my chest.

“She was attacked.” Jim’s hand tightened over hers. He let out a breath and it fluttered the sleeve of her gown. “Someone tried to rape her. Luckily, they didn’t finish. The world is full of sick fucks.”

I tried to recall ever hearing Jim curse. I shook my head, the reality of what the older man had just said sinking in. I touched the foot of the bed to keep my balance. “Where at?”

“Where at what?”

“What was she doing out?”

“Who knows. I saw when they brought her in. Heard the staff talking.” He shook his head. “She’s like family. I’m her godfather.”

“Who brought her in? Did you see?”

“A woman. This gorgeous woman.”

My skin itched. “A redhead? Stranger?” And I remembered Mike saying something about the woman caretaking the manor. I tried to recall if Angela had mentioned that during our brief encounter in All Saints, but my mind felt crammed with unknowable darkness.

“Yeah.” Jim’s head bobbed. “Brought her in and then disappeared.” He brought his hand up and wiggled his fingers. “Poof. Disappeared like magic.” He grunted. “You don’t seem that surprised.”

“A lot has happened in the last twenty four hours that seems unreal. Are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor. It’s Herb and his wife who are going to be devastated. Brandy too, if she ever wakes up. They’re going to keep her under observation for a couple days, if she doesn’t come out of it, they’ll take her to Wilkes-Barre.”

Darkness leaned against the window. I waited for Angela to press her face to the glass, surrounded by the restless dead. I scratched my forearm.

“I know who did this.” Jim’s voice cracked. He stared at the floor. “No one will believe it though. Or they’ll ignore it like they do everything else. People sicken me.”

The older man sobbed. I knelt next to him. Jim smelled of sweat and worry, his hair thinner than it used to be, twisted in places like he’d try to pull handfuls of it out. “Who?”

“Pat.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It’s not the first time he’s pushed things too far. When we were in Vietnam he…” Jim buried his head in his hands. He sobbed and wiped his eyes.