The Keys of Solomon (39 page)

“Boys, I won't tell you again. Get the fuck outta here while you can still walk. And take Lassie with you.”

The nurse humphed loudly and spun on her heel quicker than Sam would have believed possible. Her pet orderlies almost beat her through the door.

Falco paused to allow the trio time to reach the end of the hall, then shut the door. Afterward, he walked across the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Sam noticed the man walked with a slight limp, no doubt picked up during the battle back in Casa Grande. Other than the limp, Falco seemed in good shape. Today he wore a tight black T-shirt and black jeans. The T-shirt's short sleeves also revealed a large US Marine Corps tattoo on Falco's left bicep, a pair of crossed combat knives underscored by the words
Semper Fi.

Realizing he was still holding the IV pole, Sam set it on the floor and took a seat on the bed beside Falco. All of a sudden, he wasn't feeling so well. His face hurt like a bitch.

“You look like you've been run over by a truck, kid. How ya feeling? Are you hungry? I can have some food brought down.”

“Not hungry. As for how I feel, I feel pretty much like I look, but why would you care? You brought us to the Enemy! That was your game all along, wasn't it? Man, you almost had me fooled. Where's my sister? I want to see her. Now!”

“Easy, Sam. Kat's room is across the hall, but she needs rest. Maybe—”

“Maybe my ass!” Sam stood up, but had to hold onto the IV pole as a wave of vertigo set the world spinning from north to south. “Listen to me. I don't know where we are, but the Enemy is nearby. I—I've got to find Kat.”

Falco exchanged looks with Enrique, then whispered, “Keep your voice down, kid, and take it easy. You couldn't make it across the room by yourself right now. You've got a small crack in your left orbital socket and a broken nose. If the blow had landed a half centimeter lower, you'd have lost the eye.”

Falco nodded at the drip machine. “Pulling out the IV wasn't the smartest thing you've done. You were getting a couple of grains of morphine every four hours. Just enough to take the edge off the pain without really fucking up your head. Sorry, but I clamped off the line until I was sure you were getting meds and not … something else.”

Sam gave Falco a puzzled look.

“We already know the Enemy is on the grounds, Sam, but I swear to you, this was never a part of any plan. I'm ashamed to admit it, but it caught me by surprise. For the moment, there's not a lot we can do. Enrique and I have taken certain steps to ensure your medication and food aren't tampered with. There can't be more than a couple of bad guys on the property. Otherwise I'd know. My talent at spotting the Enemy isn't as sharp as yours, but it works well enough over short distances.”

“Now sit down before you fall down!”

Falco's voice softened as he added, “Please. We've got to talk. Later, I'll take you to see Katherine. I promise.”

Sam surrendered reluctantly. He didn't want to admit it, but Falco was right; Sam couldn't make it across the room without help. Not now. But later Falco would take him to Kat or else.

Or else … what a fucking laugh. The guy could probably kill me with an eyelash.
He swung his feet from the floor and back beneath the thin sheets. Gingerly, he lay back. Even the overstuffed foam pillow felt uncomfortable against his aching head.

“How did you talk to me, Sam … you know, in my head? You were on the other end of the building, but I heard you clearly in my mind. How did you do that?”

“I've already told you about
reaching
. It's one of my gifts. It's just a way of communicating across distances. I guess you could consider it a kind of mental telepathy.” Sam almost added that
reaching
was only possible between two or more entities who shared the gift, but he wasn't sure Falco was ready for that. He changed the subject.

“Okay, I answered a question for you. It's my turn. What happened to Henri?”

“Who?”

“The guy in the white Lincoln. His name is Henri. He had his hands full the last time I saw him.”

Falco shook his head. “Don't know. The last time I saw the Lincoln, you were climbing in the passenger seat. Never saw him again. In fact, I was going to ask you about him.”

“I don't get it,” said Sam. “He was a dozen steps from me when you came out of the building. He was fighting that, that
thing
. But … come to think of it, I don't recall seeing him again, after Enrique came outside with Kat. I'll tell you everything I know about him, which isn't much, a little later,” said Sam. “Okay, next question. Where are we?”

“This is a Watcher safe house, a few minutes east of New Orleans. The estate is fully self-sufficient, with supplies and staff enough for six months. At the moment, we're standing in the lowest level, two stories underground.”

Trapped two stories below sea level with demons!

“Safe house? Safe for who? I'm telling you…” Sam dropped his voice to a whisper. “The Enemy is close! The stench is so strong, I can almost taste it. Where is Kat? We've got to get out of here!”

Falco sighed. “Ronni Weiss is taking care of Katherine … and the exits are guarded. We can't get you out of here. Not yet. Now tell me, how much do you remember about Casa Grande? Or the flight out of there?”

“Remember? Where do you want me to start? Never mind. I've got it. I remember that your buddies left my mother to burn alive. I remember they let Little Stevie take my sister. Oh yeah, I remember that much.”

“Okay,” said Falco. “We've got that much coming to us. I know it won't help, but I'm sorry. Very, very sorry.”

“You're right. It doesn't help.”

“It's not going to get any easier, either. Little Stevie … he did something to Katherine.”

Sam sat up in the bed, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean he
did
something to her?”

Falco looked down at the floor for a moment. When he looked up again, his face was ashen. “Kat was beaten, then … she was abused, Sam. She was catatonic and bleeding badly when we reached the hangar. That's why I wouldn't let you near her. I didn't want you to see her in that condition.”

“You're lying. I want to see her, goddamn it!”

Falco shook his head slowly. “I wish to God I was, Sam. I wish I was.”

Sam closed his eyes. He'd failed her, the last surviving member of his immediate family. His baby sister. Pesky, too-smart-for-her-own-damn-good Katherine. Innocent little Katherine. Raped-by-a-fucking-monster Katherine. With a pang of guilt that seared his soul, Sam recalled Kat's last words to him. Words sent via the
reach
.

Don't come here, Sam. Go away. Just … go away and never come back.

“Physically, she'll mend,” said Falco. “We've got the finest trauma facility and medical staff this side of Johns Hopkins, but the doctors can't gauge the extent of her emotional or psychological damage. It'll be a while before they know anything. Her recovery could take days, months, or a lifetime. God only knows what she endured in that place.”

Sam began to cry, a pitiful muffled whimper that slowly gained momentum and culminated with hard, wracking cries of anguish, shame, and uncontrolled rage. Only merciful sleep helped dull the crushing pain in his heart.

*   *   *

When Sam awoke, the room was dark except for a dim fluorescent light above the bed. The pain in his face had subsided, and though his mind was clear, perhaps too clear, he felt a little off-center. He tried to sit up and noticed that at some point, Nurse Fido had restarted the IV, and the morphine drip was doing its thing. A covered tray sat atop a bedside table. Sam rose to a sitting position and removed the metal lid. The food was standard hospital fare and Sam thought nothing had ever looked so good. He pulled the small table near to the bed and ate in silence.

After he finished the meal and strong coffee, Sam found a plastic urinal beneath the bed and answered the call of nature. Afterward, he tested his legs by leaning on the roll-around drip machine and navigating the short distance from the bed to the door. So far, so good. Time to find Kat.

As he reached for the door, it swung open, revealing a startled Thomas Falco and Enrique DeLorenzo. Enrique stood behind a wheelchair.

“Sorry, gentlemen, but I was just on my way out.”

“You'll need a guide,” said Falco. “A guy could get lost down here for weeks.”

“We thought you might be ready to look in on Katherine,” added Enrique. He nodded toward the wheelchair. “Have a seat and I'll play chauffeur.”

Sam didn't want the escort. Neither Falco nor Enrique had any right to go near his sister. After all, they were the reason she was here in the first place. Weren't they? Still, he knew he had no choice. He wasn't in any shape to stop them, and any verbal protest would just be a waste of breath.

“Yeah, sure.” Sam sat down in the wheelchair. “Lead the way, but don't talk to me while I'm with her. Not a fucking word, got it?”

Falco and Enrique exchanged glances, and Falco nodded. “Sure kid, we got it.”

Falco removed the portable morphine pump from the IV pole and attached it to a second, smaller pole fixed to the back of the wheelchair.

“Turn that thing off, would ya?” said Sam. “I think I've had enough for a while.”

“No dice, tough guy. Doc Stone says you'll probably need a little juice of the poppy to get you through the next couple of days. In fact, it's probably the only reason you're still vertical. But let the nurses know if you start seeing little green men or circus ponies in the room. Morphine, even in moderate doses, is notorious for inducing audio and visual hallucinations. The doctor can reduce the dosage and the hallucinations should clear up within a couple of hours.”

“Yeah, sure. Now take me to Kat.”

Enrique piloted the wheelchair out into the hallway and paused. Sam, having grown somewhat accustomed to the relative cramped confines of his room, was immediately struck by the enormity of the building. To his left, the hallway, illuminated by bright fluorescent lights and dotted by dozens of doors identical to Sam's own, seemed to run forever before disappearing over a distant, artificial horizon. An optical illusion, he suspected, but damned disturbing, nonetheless. To his right, the hall extended for a good thirty to forty yards, before ending in front of an imposing set of metal double doors.

“When you said this was a safe house, I pictured, well … a
house
. Just how big is this place?”

Falco chuckled, then said, “Not all that large in terms of floors. Two stories below, five above. But you're right, it's a massive structure. Much larger than the fifteenth-century French keep it's patterned after. Anyone unfamiliar with the layout could wander around for a day and never see the same room twice. Reaching an exit without a guide would prove daunting, at best.”

The message wasn't lost on Sam. An easy escape was out of the question. Not that Sam had notions of leaving. Not without Kat, anyway.

“A couple of things before we go inside, Sam,” said Enrique. “Her doctor asked me to tell you Kat won't know you're here. She won't see you or speak. She's under heavy sedation in order to give her mind and body a chance to recover without the added stress of conscious thought. You don't have to do this now, you know. It won't hurt to wait a couple of days, until you're stronger.”

When Sam spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. “Take me to my sister.”

Seconds later, Sam sat next to Kat's bed, staring in horror at the tortured look on the unconscious girl's once angelic face. Despite the heavy medication, Kat's expression was that of a trapped and wounded animal, her jaws snapping at the air again and again. Only a molded plastic mouthpiece prevented her jagged, broken teeth from chewing through an already ravaged bottom lip. Not even eighteen hundred miles and a drug-induced coma were enough to keep Little Stevie at bay.

*   *   *

Once back in his room, Sam allowed Falco to help him out of the chair and onto the bed. He wanted to cry, but his tears had been long since exhausted. He wanted to scream but couldn't summon the energy or his voice. He wanted to lash out at everything, and everyone, to punish those responsible for his mother's death and Kat's condition.
All in good time
, he told himself.
All in good time.

Nurse Sheppard stepped inside the room but kept her distance until Sam was beneath the sheets. Falco and Enrique stepped aside and watched as Sheppard started a new IV line, and reset the morphine drip. After she adjusted the flow rate, she produced a syringe from one of the deep pockets of her smock, removed the cap and inserted the needle into the IV line.

“What's that?” asked Sam.

“Dr. Stone ordered a round of antibiotics. You're to stay on them while your injuries heal.”

He knew she was lying. The syringe may have held a course of antibiotics, but it held something else, as well. Or perhaps the doctor had loaded the syringe and the nurse really didn't realize what she was giving him. But Sam knew. It was a sedative, and a rather strong one at that. The Watchers didn't want any trouble from an Offspring wildcard while they decided what to do with him. It was just as well. Seeing Kat in her condition had sapped Sam's remaining energy. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up.

The sedative did its job and within a few minutes, Sam teetered on the precipice of unconsciousness. Calm and relaxed for the first time in days. He looked across the room at Falco and Enrique. The two men had their heads together, talking in muted whispers.

Here it comes. They think my resistance is down, and the interrogation begins.

Sam decided to beat them to the punch. “So, Tommy boy, how many people does it take to run this operation, anyway?”