Touch of Madness (29 page)

“Asshole.”

Tom squeezed my hand, hard. “Don’t,” he admonished me. “I don’t blame him, and neither should you. Loving you is just terrifying. Because it’s always something.”

“I don’t do it deliberately.”

“I know.” He gave me a tired echo of his usual smile. “But that doesn’t make it any easier on the rest of us. I swear, I’ve considered taking you up to a cabin in the middle of the wilderness, but I’m pretty sure you’d somehow manage to piss off the local bears.”

I was spared coming up with an appropriate answer to that by the arrival of the nurse with my medicine. I met with Bryan for the first time post-healing after they’d taken away my lunch tray. My headache was finally gone.

Whatever it was that Dr. Watkins had prescribed, along with a stomach full of amazingly exceptional hospital food, had done the trick nicely. I had a whole new appreciation for the absence of pain. Tom was more than willing to relinquish his place at my bedside once he knew for sure I was going to be okay. Meeting with my baby brother was amazing. More than amazing. Bryan was just back. It showed in every move he made, in every word out of his mouth. And boy was he being mouthy.

“What in the hell did you think you were doing? Are you insane?”

I shrugged and looked him square in his handsome, animated face. “I wanted you back.”

“You idiot! I would never risk you for me. Never.” He was stalking back and forth across the hospital room, his face flushed. Even his hand gestures were exaggerated. It was exactly the way he’d acted when we’d argued as teenagers. It made me grin in delirious joy.

“It was worth it.”

“Worth it—” He stopped at the end of my bed to glare at me. “Damn it, Katie, it’s not like I’m not grateful, but you have to stop risking yourself. Yeah, you’re tough. But one of these days you’re gonna go too far—” He stopped talking in mid-sentence and glared at me through lowered lids. “You’re smiling again.”

“I’m sorry, Bryan. Really I am. It’s not that I’m not taking you seriously. But…it’s you. It’s really, really you. You’re yelling at me and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.” I could barely get the last sentence out, my throat had tightened so much. God I’d missed him. I looked up and said a silent prayer of thanks as I held open my arms for him. Bryan stepped forward into the hug, carefully avoiding the various tubes still sticking out of my arms. He gave me a tight squeeze and said. “You realize you’re making it really hard for me to be pissed at you right now.”

“Good. I don’t want you to be.”

He touched my arm while still warm against my chest. The scars were still an angry crinkled pink against my pale, pale skin. He traced the knife wound Brooks had made, nearly the full length of my forearm, to remove the Thrall eggs as though I’d break. “I can’t even imagine the things you’ve been through since I’ve been out of it, Katie. No wonder Joe is such a basket case.” He let go of the hug and took a small step back. I shifted my legs to give him room to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know he’s out there, driving the doctors crazy, wearing out the floor tiles in the hall.”

He rose up to get a better look at me, and the mattress shifted slightly under his weight.

“But he won’t come and talk to me.”

“No.” Bryan’s face fell. “He won’t. He’s just unbelievably angry with you. Keeps saying that if you insist on getting yourself killed, he can’t stop you, but he doesn’t have to watch. Katie, what the hell has happened between the two of you? I don’t get it. I mean, you’ve always fought, but this…this is different.”

The hurt in Bryan’s eyes was hard to bear. I wanted to explain it away, but I wasn’t sure I could. Bryan had turned into a zombie before I got engaged to Dylan. He’d missed so damned much history between Joe and me.

“You know I’m Not Prey, right?”

“Yeah, I heard. What’s up with that?”

“Make yourself comfy, bro. This is going to be a long story.”

I tried to give him the Reader’s Digest Condensed version of my life while he was out. Even that took time. He tried not to interrupt too much, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. By the time we’d finished, my throat was parched and it was nearly time for dinner.

“My God, Katie, no wonder Joe’s half-crazy. What the fuck.”

“Yeah, but what was I supposed to do? Can you tell me one thing I could’ve done differently?”

“You could’ve left Dylan to the Thrall. If you’d done that one thing, let him live with the consequences of his own stupid choices, none of the rest of it would’ve happened.”

I shook my head no, but took his hand. “I couldn’t do that. I loved him. I couldn’t just leave him to die or be infested, any more than I could leave you to your own private hell—despite the fact that taking Eden had been your choice. Besides, once Larry knew I had psychic talent he’d decided he wanted me as a possible queen. If I hadn’t gone in, he’d have just come after me.” Larry had been Monica’s predecessor. He’d wanted me and Monica to duke it out to become queen. I still remembered the burning excitement in his eyes as he’d tried to bite me. Bryan couldn’t meet my eyes. “You don’t know that’s true.”

“Actually I do. Larry as much as said so before I fought him.”

Bryan sat quietly for a moment, mulling that over. “But you still won’t leave things well enough alone. Not if there’s any chance.” He patted my leg with one hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful as hell to be back but I can see why Joe can’t handle it.”

“Do you see any solution? I mean, I am what I am.”

“Yeah, and he is what he is,” Brian grumbled. “I’ll work on it.” He rose from the bed and started for the door. He turned to look at me with his hand on the doorknob, his expression grave. “Because I’m telling you now—I will have my family back.” His expression softened. “But right now I need to get out of here. I’ve technically been released from the hospital. Joe and Mike are making all the arrangements to sneak me out without the press seeing me. The other girl and her folks did a press conference, but I so don’t want to go there.”

“Where are you going to stay?”

“I’ve got some options. Joe offered to let me move in with him, but he’s living with Mary, I’d just be in the way. Mike said I could come back there, but I don’t really want to.”

“So—” My tone made it a question.

“Tom suggested that I take his place. If that’s okay with you?”

I smiled. “It’s fine. It’s great.”

“I love you, Katie. And I’m sorry…for everything.” A shadow passed through his eyes. I knew what caused it. It was the guilt for having done the drugs in the first place, for needing to be rescued.

“I’m sorry, too.”

He crossed the room, giving me a quick impulsive hug, then left. The room seemed awfully empty without him. A tray was wheeled in for my dinner shortly after he left. None of it was particularly appetizing this time, from the thin tomato soup to the hamburger that bore more resemblance to shoe leather than actual meat. There must be a different cook on the dinner shift I’d honestly never had trouble chewing green beans before in my life. Still, it was food. Not particularly good food, but it was healthy, good for me, and I was hungry enough that I was willing to eat pretty much anything.

I tried to kill time watching television, but couldn’t find anything I wanted to see. I kept channel surfing, hoping there would be something I could enjoy. It reminded me of the Springsteen song, you know the one, “57 Channels (and Nothin’ On).” If I had a gun I might’ve even followed his example. Fortunately, I didn’t. And before too long Mike came in with the plan for how to get me out of there.

The dial on my watch read 10:15 P.M. Moonlight reflected off of the snow piled outside the windowsill. Distant stars sparkled, barely visible because of the orange glow of the street lamps outside. The lights in the room were turned off, as though the occupant were sleeping. The bed, however, was freshly made, the room completely clean except for the flowers. Those had been promised to the nurses as a gift for all the bother they’d been through. I felt like I was in the middle of a prison break. Representatives of the local, national, even international news agencies had surrounded the hospital, and every one of them was trying to find a way to get the interview. They had been driving hospital security absolutely nuts and had camped out on the lawns near the main entrances and exits of the hospital.

I checked my reflection in the mirror one last time. There wasn’t much light in the room, but there was more than enough for me to see by. Dr. Watkins had thought the light sensitivity was part of the migraine. But the headache was long gone, my EEGs were normal, and still bright light was intensely painful for me. I shook my head, making the black nylon wig I wore over my hair sway. I looked utterly ridiculous, like Sydney Bristow, superspy—on a particularly bad hair day. Still, passing for an employee was my best chance of getting out of the room and off the floor unnoticed.

I patted the pocket of the pants. The small plastic identification badge belonging to Miles MacDougal was still in the pocket. He’d given it to me, along with the pass code for the door to the research wing of the hospital. If anyone ever found out, he’d be in deep trouble; could even lose his job. But I wasn’t telling and he sure as hell wasn’t, so we should be safe.

I checked my watch again. Time to go. I grabbed the lightweight black tote that held my personal items, took a deep breath, and stepped through the door and into the hall.

Squinting against the bright fluorescent lights, I turned left and took a couple steps down the hallway toward the elevators, but came to a skidding stop at the sound of voices arguing at the nurse’s station. “What are you doing here?”

“We understand Kate Reilly has a room on this floor.”

I recognized that voice. It was the reporter for Channel 4 News. I’d first run into her at the Shamrock Motel when Monica showed up. She’d seen me before; knew what I looked like. Up close, my disguise wasn’t going to fool her for a minute. Shit!

“There is no patient by that name on this floor. Ms. Reilly checked out earlier this evening.” The nurse was curt, but it wasn’t enough to discourage the reporter.

“What are you doing? I’m calling security!” I heard the sound of hurrying feet, and the nurse’s voice on the telephone calling for assistance.

There was no time to run, so I did the only thing that I could think of. I ducked into the nearest room and hid behind the door.

I heard footsteps right outside the door of the room where I was hiding. Someone opened the door across the hall. I heard them step inside, then call out to the people waiting in the hall. “She’s not here. Are you sure you’ve got the right room number?” A male voice asked.

The female reporter’s heels clicked angrily against the floor tiles. “Damn it!” she swore. “Look at the cards on the flowers. It was her room all right, but she’s gone now.”

I heard the man swear softly under his breath. “We may as well go. Security is on their way. I don’t know how she managed to get out of the hospital without being spotted, but apparently she did.”

“Maybe she switched rooms,” the woman suggested.

“Well, we don’t have time to check.”

He was right. In the distance I heard the ding of the elevator bell and the crackle of radio static. The cavalry had arrived in the form of hospital security.

I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. Brooks was probably sitting in the van wondering what in the hell was taking me so long. I didn’t dare risk digging out my cell to call him. If I could hear the folks from Channel 4

News through the door, the reverse would be true as well. So I stood in the deep shadows of an empty hospital room and listened impatiently to the news woman’s Academy Award-worthy performance and the guard’s unimpressed response. All in all it was almost thirty minutes before they were gone and I could emerge from hiding. I stepped out of me room, and ran straight into Mike.

“What in the hell—” he spluttered.

“The team from Channel 4 arrived just as I was leaving.”

He made a disgusted sound. “Figures. Come on. When you didn’t make it out to the van in thirty minutes I decided to come looking for you.”

“Thanks.”

He didn’t answer, just strode down the hall at a brisk enough clip that I had to hustle to keep up with him. The squeak of my tennis shoes on the polished linoleum seemed amazingly loud to my ears, but Mike didn’t seem to notice. It was probably just nerves.

Mike hit the lever to open the door to the emergency stairwell. “You do realize that you’re eventually going to have to face the press. What you did—” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. “It was just amazing. Nothing like that has ever happened before. I don’t know if Tom’s told you yet, but you had a message from Barbara Walters on your machine this morning.” I had started to pass him, but when he said that I just froze in place, my jaw hanging down somewhere around my navel.

“Barbara—”

“Walters wants to do a special interview with you and Bryan.” Mike made a shooing gesture with his hands and I started down the steps. I didn’t know what to say. I mean…holy crap. A Barbara Walters special? My nerves so weren’t up to this.

“Have you talked to Joe yet?” Mike’s words interrupted my thoughts.

I flinched. No, I had not talked to Joe. If Bryan hadn’t told me he’d been hanging around I wouldn’t even have known it. He hadn’t come in to see me. There’d been no card, no flowers. My throat tightened, and I felt the sting of tears. Damn it! A part of me knew I should probably make the first move, but he was the one in the wrong! Would it kill him to apologize first for once?

“I take it that’s a no.” Mike was angry. I knew it even before I looked at him over my shoulder. His face was flushed, his jaw set in an aggressive line. “Damn it, Kate. Joe loves you and he worries about you.”

“And I love him. But you and I both know that he can be an interfering, overbearing, bully sometimes. He was out of line. Would it kill him to apologize?”

Mike ran his free hand through his thinning hair. “I think it actually might.” He blew out an exasperated breath.

“Between the two of you, I swear—”