“Are you okay?” she asked. “I heard shots and . . .”
“No, I’m fine. Just a little dusty.”
Gavenia blurted out, “Come see me sometime, okay?” She winced. That sounded pathetic. Fortunately her aunt was talking to the paramedic and missed the degrading moment.
O’Fallon didn’t hesitate. “You can count on it.”
“I need to talk to Llew.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later. No more falling down rabbit holes, you hear?”
“I promise.” When Llewellyn returned to the phone, she told him, “The other cop, the one named Glass . . . he killed Taylor.”
“Did you witness the murder?”
“No. Taylor’s spirit told me. I know it’s not admissible in court. Just wanted you to know.”
“Anything else?”
“Do whatever you can for O’Fallon. He’s—” Now wasn’t the time.
A low chuckle filled her ear, as if Llew knew exactly what she’d intended to say. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay. Just work on getting well.”
“I will.” She handed the phone back to Lucy, who rose and walked a short distance away. Gavenia knew they were comparing notes, ensuring that she was as uninjured as she sounded.
“We’re off the see the wizard,” the paramedic joked as he and his companion pulled the stretcher up and clicked it into place.
“Whee! Now I know how that witch felt when they dropped the house on her.” That remark earned a round of laughter.
Once they reached the ambulance, the paramedic smiled down at her. “Probably didn’t get to see this morning’s paper, did you?” he asked with a grin.
“Nope. Delivery’s been a bit spotty,” she said. “What did I miss?”
“You’ve been vindicated. Seems that reporter lied. Someone sent the paper a copy of the police report. You hit it right on the nose, lady.”
Gavenia’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, Goddess. Mrs. Jones . . .” She felt no sense of triumph, just immense sadness.
“So you really see ghosts?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes, I do.” She closed her eyes, hoping that would end the conversation. He took the hint, and after the back doors shut, the ambulance headed toward the hospital, siren piercing the morning air.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Nothing broken, but lots of skid marks,” the young ER doc announced. He looked all of eighteen, if a day.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Gavenia replied. Her aunt stood nearby, on what appeared to be her fourth cup of coffee.
“I want you to have a shower before we start bandaging some of this. If not, we’ll just embed the dirt in the wounds, and life will get really bad.”
“I’ll endeavor to pick a cleaner place to get buried the next time,” she said. A million cuts and scrapes screamed at her from almost every part of her body. Her hair was a tangled mass of rust-coated knots.
He eyed her. “Good idea. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“Six months ago.” After the last time I did something really stupid.
“Good. We’ll give you another one anyway.”
Gavenia groaned. Then why ask?
The doctor flung orders at the nearest nurse. She looked to be three times his age, and that fact earned her Gavenia’s immense gratitude.
Once Dr. Dude was gone, the nurse told her what to expect.
“Do you want the pain pills before or after the shower?”
“After.”
The nurse’s eyebrow marched upward as if questioning Gavenia’s sanity.
The shower was hellish. Gavenia bit her lip as long as she could and then wept openly from the pain. All the wounds burned in throbbing waves. Her mind tried to process each individual ache. The result was overload. Shivering, she sat in a shower chair, a nurse’s aide at her side. Though the girl was as tender as she could be, it felt like being flayed alive.
To mark her progress, Gavenia watched the water swirl around her toes as it spiraled down the drain. It started blood red, full of brick dust, then gradually faded to a light rose. Finally it ran clear.
Hell was followed by heaven: fresh bandages and ointment, a clean bed, two pain pills, and the supreme satisfaction of knowing the worst was over. As she sank down into the narcotic haze, her mind kept nagging her about the Irishman. Would he be okay? Surely they couldn’t charge him with anything.
“Watch over him, Brigit,” she murmured, and fell into a deep slumber.
* * *
How long Gavenia slept, she wasn’t sure. She remembered the occasional flutter of activity around her bed: the checking of blood pressure, shining of lights into her pupils, and asking of inane questions to ensure her brain wasn’t doing bad things. But for the most part they’d left her alone, as if the entombment and the shower were penance enough.
Soft sobs pulled her from her sleep. Gavenia managed to open her eyes and found her sister at the end of the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks. The moment Ari knew she was awake, she shook the bed in a furious gesture. The movement made Gavenia’s head spin.
“Are you crazy?” Ari demanded.
She rolled her head over and checked to see if her roommate was present. Out for a stroll. Good timing.
She rolled her head back and ignored the sensation of light-headedness. “Didn’t do anything,” she replied, trying to string words together despite the fact she felt like a hot-air balloon cruising high on the jet stream.
“What the hell were you thinking?” her sister demanded again.
“Trying not to . . . wimp out,” Gavenia said, and screwed a crooked smile onto her face. She slowly inched a hand out from under the covers and scratched the end of her nose. It appeared to be the only part of her that wasn’t sore.
“You could have died,” Ari sobbed.
“Really?” Gavenia said, and then gave another lopsided smile. The pain pills were fabulous. Nothing bothered her, not even her sister’s wildly careening emotions.
Ari glared at her, shaking the bed again with a furious rattle, as if it would knock some sense into Gavenia.
“Come here, Pooh,” Gavenia said, waving a hand with broad swipes. “I don’t need a lecture. I need a hug.”
Ari hesitated at the side of the bed. “I’d hug you, but I don’t know where. You’re all chewed up.”
“Comes from playing tag with bricks.” Gavenia thought and then pointed to her nose, missing it twice before she managed to touch it with her finger. Yup, she was legally over the limit. She giggled. “No driving for me.” Ari bent over and tweaked her nose and then smoothed back her hair. Tears dropped onto Gavenia’s face.
“Don’t do that. Makes the ouchies burn.”
“Sorry. Tinker . . . I . . .”
Gavenia reached up to pinch her sister’s cheek like she used to when they were kids. “I’m fine. Come back tomorrow. Go get some sleep. You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell.”
“You can take me home in the morning.”
Her sister acquiesced. “You got it.” She took something from her purse and clipped it to Gavenia’s braid just about shoulder level.
Her eyes just wouldn’t focus that close. “What is it?”
“A Pooh Bear. I bought it at the airport so you’d know I was thinking of you.”
Gavenia stuck out her tongue, and Ari returned the gesture.
“Go home and make peace with Bastet.”
Another kiss on the nose, and Ari was out the door. Paul Hansford’s ghost lingered at the end of the bed.
“Hey, guy. Thanks for watching over my sis,” Gavenia said.
Paul’s spirit blinked in surprise, and then a hesitant grin came to his face.
Glad to see you made it. He swirled out the door in search of his wife.
Gavenia beamed. “He talked to me. Cool.”
What is this fascination you have with hospitals?
She hunted around and found Bart standing on the other side of the bed, dressed in scrubs, complete with
beeper and stethoscope. He looked more like a real doctor than the kid in the ER.
“I just like being babied.” Dare she hope? She awkwardly crossed the fingers on one hand, despite the discomfort. “Are you just on rounds or are you back for good?”
I’m back.
She sighed in relief. “I could have used you in the ER to hold my hand.”
I was there. You just didn’t see me.
“I really missed you,” she said.
His expression changed instantly, and he looked down as if embarrassed.
“No, I really did. I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.”
I’ve missed you, too.
“So where have you been?” she asked. “First you disappear, then Reginald appears, and then Reginald goes. For a while there it was Wheel of Guardians.”
I was working.
“With who?”
A batty old widow with too damned many cats.
She gave him a puzzled look. She’d never heard him swear.
He continued, Twenty-seven at last count. Of course, given the number of them that were pregnant, it might be in the low two hundreds now.
“But you like Bastet,” she protested. At least she thought he did.
He nodded. Bastet, I like. Dozens of them . . . He shuddered. Some of them ignored me, others hissed and spit at me. Constantly. It was like having dozens of furry hand grenades going off all the time.
“Poor Bart,” she chided. “They’re going to let you stay, aren’t they?”
I hope so. You raised a heck of a stink on my behalf. No other Shepherd’s ever done that.
“I’ll do it again,” she said, glaring upward at the tile ceiling. “You hear me?”
Oh, they heard you all right. Then there was that encounter with Taylor’s earthbound. That made them take notice. You stopped that thing cold.
“You mean the Dark Guardian?”
He nodded.
“He said he ruled Taylor. Is that possible?”
Another nod.
“Why the hell did they do that to me? I can’t be a Shepherd if I’m dead.”
A half shrug. Not everything they do makes sense. He sighed. As below, so above.
Gavenia frowned. He’d gotten that wrong. It was the other way around.
Their eyes connected. His face had that expression he used when he wanted to tell her something without actually speaking the words.
“As below . . . so above,” she repeated. The truth bulldozed its way through the narcotic mist. The temporal plane was a chaotic mess. If the ethereal plane mirrored it . . .
Now do you understand? he asked.
“Goddess, we’re screwed,” she said.
He gave a quick nod. Before she could follow up, he announced, Incoming! and turned toward the door.
A knock, and the door swung open. She could tell they were cops by their suits. Apparently they all shopped at the same store
“Ms. Kingsgrave?” the taller one asked.
“What’s left of me,” she said.
“I’m Detective Carstairs, and this is Detective Price. We have a couple of questions.”
“Oh, I just bet you do.” As they took their places on either side of the bed, she could hear Llewellyn’s voice cautioning her. “Just so you know, I’ve had some pain pills. I want that noted.”
Carstairs shot a look over at his partner. “Are you a lawyer?”
“Nope, but I used to work for one.”
“Which one?”
“David Llewellyn.”
“Oh, lord,” Carstairs muttered.
Go get ’em, girl, Bart observed as he sat on the window ledge.
Wait until I tell them who killed Taylor.
Chapter Forty
O’Fallon leaned back in the chair trying to ease the cramp in his neck. If not for Llewellyn, he’d be in worse shape. All the usual cop tactics—a full bladder and no food—were nonissues. A member of Llewellyn’s staff had delivered subs and sodas, and regular trips to the restroom were demanded and received. Updates flowed from the hospital: Adam Elliot’s shoulder wound wasn’t life threatening, and Gavenia was sleeping tight, with no major injuries to her credit other than a minor concussion. Benjamin was right—all he needed to do was trust in a miracle.
O’Fallon studied his hands. They were rock solid, the nails stained crimson from the brick dust. As he saw it, he had one big problem: no way to tie Glass to Taylor’s death. Unless Forensics was able to connect the dots, Glass would walk.
Llewellyn stretched and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He had a page full of notes on a legal pad on the table in front of him. When O’Fallon had asked how much he charged an hour, he’d been curtly informed this was on the house.
Another miracle.
“So where are we on this, guys?” Llewellyn asked. “You’ve talked to Ms. Kingsgrave and Detective Elliot. My client has told you what he knows. Unless you intend to press charges, I think it’s time we wrapped this up.”
“We have a couple more questions.”
“Such as?” O’Fallon asked.
“Why are you and Elliot suddenly so chummy? You two . . . ah . . . buddies?” Carstairs asked.
“IAD has its sights on Glass,” O’Fallon replied. “Since Adam’s clean, we’ve been trying to figure out the best way to keep him from getting sucked down the drain when they pull the plug on his Glass.”
Carstairs blinked a couple of times. A look toward Price and then back again. They hadn’t known about IAD.
“Why do you give a damn about Elliot?” Price asked.
“Because his dad gave a damn about me when I was coming up. I owe him.”
“What is IAD looking for?” Carstairs asked.
“You’ll have to ask them. Or better yet, ask Glass.” There was silence, and O’Fallon read it clearly. “Is that bastard still with us?”
A quick shake of the head. “He didn’t make it out of the ER.”
“Pity.” O’Fallon had purposely held off playing the recording as it was his coup de grâce. Now it didn’t matter since Glass was pleading his case to a higher authority. O’Fallon looked over at his lawyer. “Time to put this to bed.”
The voice recorder appeared out of Llewellyn’s pocket, where’d they’d stashed it for safekeeping. He handed it to O’Fallon, who tapped in the security code. “This thing has a habit of turning itself on. This morning it recorded the events at the warehouse, so get your popcorn, gentlemen, and listen up.”
He let the recording run as it retold the tale from the moment he and Adam arrived at the warehouse. As it played, he leaned back and closed his eyes, visualizing the scene. Listening to it proved as hard as living it.
When the recording ended, he clicked it off.
“Does it match the other witness accounts?” Llewellyn asked.
A grudging nod.
“Then my client is free to go?”
Price threw his pen on the table and gave a deep sigh.
“We have no more questions,” Carstairs growled.
O’Fallon rose and took his jacket off the chair. A large footprint resided on the back. He eyed Carstairs. “Next time, a little more respect, okay?” he said, pointing.
“Go away, O’Fallon. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Works for me.”
* * *
In O’Fallon’s opinion, the woman on the bed looked like she’d been mugged by a hiveful of enraged bees. A myriad of scrapes and red spots dotted her face and arms, and a dressing nestled on her forehead and nudged into her golden hair. The hair was surprisingly clean and fell in one long braid down the side of the bed. Someone had clipped a tiny teddy bear holding a honey pot onto the braid. It watched over her with benign eyes.
God, she looks beautiful.
He stood quietly near her bedside, not wanting to wake her, gently touching her hand on the one place that wasn’t red. Those magnificent eyes slowly opened. She grasped his hand, though he knew it had to hurt.
“Hi there,”
he said, keeping his voice light. “Sorry I’m late.”
Gavenia raised her hand, bringing his with it. “What, no cuffs?”
He played along. “You didn’t tell you were into the kinky stuff.”
She smirked. “Llew got you off?”
“For the time being. There’ll be more questions, I’m sure.”
“And the other cop?”
“Avery’s son?” he asked. “He’s doing okay. He’s a few doors down from here.”
“Oh . . . that’s why he looked familiar,” she murmured, and then yawned. “Sorry. They gave me more pain pills. I’m having trouble staying awake.”
“Then go to sleep. I can talk to you tomorrow.”
“No, no . . . I want . . . to thank . . . you.”
“Thank me for what?” he asked. She smelled of antiseptic soap and ointment.
“You . . . gave me a . . . reason to live,” she said as her eyes blinked at irregular intervals.
He leaned back, caught by the weight of her words. You gave me a reason to live. Would she have said that if she hadn’t been drugged out of her mind?
“Gavenia, I . . .”
“Stay with me . . . until I go to . . . sleep,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering closed, hiding those brilliant eyes.
“I will,” he whispered. “Every night if you let me.” Only her deep breathing came in response.
As he bent down to give her a kiss, a young man appeared in the door bearing a bouquet of flowers. After a quick glance at the name, he handed it to O’Fallon and then scurried away. O’Fallon set the flowers on the nightstand, eyeing the card.
Praying for you—Gregory, Emily, Merlin, & TJ.
Perhaps Alliford would survive his personal hell after all—he just needed a strong woman in his life.
O’Fallon moved a wisp of hair off Gavenia’s battered face. After another kiss on her cheek, he left the room, silently closing the door behind him.
You gave me a reason to live.
“Just like you’ve done for me.”
* * *