Blood Tally

Chapter 17

I floated in a warm, brightly lit place for what felt like a very long time. I wasn’t conscious, but I wasn’t completely out of it either, and at some point during that floating I realized that I was lying in a hospital bed. Someone had left the drapes open. And, most importantly, Maggie was trying to get my attention.

It took me a while before I could answer her. Even the effort of a mental huh? was beyond me for what felt like an eternity. Finally, slowly, and with what seemed like a colossal force of will, I answered her.

Hey, Mags.

She let out a relieved sigh. Thank heavens. You’re back.

Been out of it for a while?

Four days.

Jesus. Isn’t that kind of dangerous?

I put you in a comma, magically. You were in no shape to wake up.

And now?

You’re still not in great shape.

I was still floating, unable to open my eyes, and it took me a while to realize that I was probably on some pretty fantastic painkillers. How am I looking?

Like Frankenstein’s Monster.

That’s not funny.

It’s not a joke, Maggie replied. It could tell she was genuinely worried, and that sent a bolt of concern through my drugged-out state. Those vampires tore you to shreds. If it wasn’t for your troll skin, you would have been nothing but a skeleton – and vampires aren’t sanitary. I had to burn an infection out of you on the way to the hospital. The doctors are curious about that, but they chalked it up to your troll blood.

How did I get here?

Olivia and Eddie got you in the bed of the truck. Olivia drove you. It wasn’t pleasant.

So they’re okay?

Eddie got a little cut up, but I have never seen anything like him. He killed over sixty vampires in a few minutes. It would take at least three full OtherOps sweeper teams to do the same.

Any survivors?

Nope.

Wow. I guess Sekhmet does still have some power.

Even dead gods are still gods. Makes me wonder what her guardians were capable of back when she was still alive.

That’s terrifying. How is Olivia?

She’s fine. Mentally scarred, but fine.

Oh. Good. I floated around, part of me trying to find the strength to open my eyes, but the other part of me really enjoyed the drugs. Hey, you never told me how you knew Sting.

Maggie snorted, then let out a soft chuckle. Is that important right now?

I could die any moment.

You will not, you big baby.

Weirdly, it did seem super important. It was probably just the drugs talking. I have to know.

I could sense Maggie chewing on her thoughts. I … I was in his jewelry collection for a couple of years in the midnineties. He never actually put on my ring, but I was physically close enough to touch his dreams very lightly. The song “Desert Rose” is about me.

No. The word came out far more “playfully shocked” than I had meant it to. I was genuinely surprised. How have you not told me that before?

It’s embarrassing!

If Sting wrote a song about me, I would start literally every conversation with that bit of trivia.

I could sense Maggie roll her eyes. And now we’re not going to talk about it anymore. You’re still hurt, Alek. We should be serious.

I was just torn to shreds. That’s barely anything, right?

You didn’t let me finish the diagnosis. You have a broken wrist. They had to replace your kneecap; it’s plastic now. Even with your troll healing, you’re going to need some physical therapy. Also one of your tusks was broken.

I don’t remember that.

The doctor said that’s permanent. You’re going to have a shitload of new scars – the one on your face is gonna be the worst. A vampire bit your cheek.

I do remember that. The tip of my nose began to itch. I twitched it and realized that I could twitch it. I had a little control. That was nice. At least, I thought that was nice. I still couldn’t really tell. But I did now realize that I wasn’t alone in the room. In fact, someone was holding my hand. I felt a smile involuntarily crack my lips, and I gave the hand a weak squeeze. I tried to say the name Olivia but couldn’t get it out.

Bad news, Maggie said. That’s not Olivia.

Frustrated, I put more effort into cracking one eye. It finally came open, and I saw Ada sitting by my bedside. To my surprise, it was her holding my hand – though the moment my eye opened, she pulled away as if to hide the fact. She stood up, leaning over me, looking at me closely, then at the monitor next to my bed, then back at me. “Alek?” she croaked.

“Go away,” I managed.

She sighed, sitting back down and fixing me with her most irritated expression. “Lived through another pounding, I see.”

“No thanks to you.”

“I advised you on a different course of action.” Ada raised her chin, looking down her nose at me for a long time before continuing. “Still, I’m glad that you survived.”

“Go to hell,” I muttered.

We remained in silence for some time, Ada watching me closely. It was disconcerting. I’d spent my entire life as if on the periphery of her vision, only receiving attention when absolutely necessary. Even when she came to my baseball games in high school, she always brought a book. It was strange getting her complete, undivided interest.

“Where did you go?” I finally asked. “I tried to get ahold of you for three days.”

“After you told me what you meant to do, I decided to make myself scarce. I can’t answer questions about a rogue reaper agent if I don’t answer my phone.” She looked smug, but that smugness leaked away quickly. “So you know what Lord Ruthven held over me?”

“Go to hell,” I repeated.

She snorted, her brow furrowing. “You have to understand. You have more value to me than you could possibly know. I will not – I cannot – let an outside force ruin that. Betraying someone like Boris was a small price to pay to keep you.”

I tried to pretend that I’d fallen asleep again but could feel her eyes still on me, unwavering. “I’m your slave. Don’t try to pretend it’s something sentimental.” I was able to open both eyes and returned her gaze. It was her that looked away first. She clearly had something else to say, wrestling with it visibly before making a dismissive gesture.

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re valuable.” She leaned over, pressing one wrinkled hand against my forehead like she used to do when I got sick as a kid. “Get better.”

“So I can get back to work?” I waited for her to tell me how long I had until I reported for duty – to complain about my broken body and the time I would waste mending.

To my surprise, she made that dismissive gesture again. “Get better,” she repeated, then left the room.

The short exchange had left me feeling exhausted. I turned my head, noticing for the first time that there was a large bouquet of flowers on the table next to my bed. I should have asked Maggie to read me the note, but I desperately wanted to move. Slowly, carefully, I stretched out my right hand until I could pluck the card off the bouquet, then held it right up to my eyes. It said,

I thought about those letters for a moment. “Oh,” I said aloud. “Lord Ruthven. Great. I’m on a Vampire Lord’s shit list now. Man, is there any good news other than the fact that I’m still alive?”

Maybe, Maggie said.

Maybe what?

As if in answer, the door to my hospital room opened. I lifted my head just enough to see it was Olivia. She tiptoed in, saw I was awake, and visible relief crossed her face. She came over to my bedside, leaned over, and kissed me gently on the lips. It was nice. It was very nice. She sat down where Ada had been, and I decided that I’d much rather have her there.

“You don’t look so hot,” she broke the silence.

I snorted a laugh. It hurt. “I don’t feel so hot.”

“I’m told you’ll mend pretty well.” She glanced toward the door. “I met your boss. I know you and I have been through some crazy shit, but your boss is terrifying.”

“Did she threaten you?” I tried to sit up. That hurt a lot more.

“Nope. Barely talked to me, except to tell me that she took care of the vampire bodies in your yard and that your truck would be fixed by the time you are healed enough to drive again. She’s just … her eyes are just so cold.”

“Bodies are bad for business,” I muttered.

Olivia shot a look toward the door again. She clearly did not like Ada. “Yeah. I got that impression.” There was a long, pregnant pause. “This probably isn’t the best time to talk about this, but I made a couple calls while you were out. One of my mom’s old activist friends knows a guy who knows a guy that might be able to help you locate your contract.”

“You’re shitting me,” I said in disbelief.

“Might,” Olivia qualified.

“That’s more than I have right now.”

She glanced away but kept her hand on the hospital bed guardrail, drumming her fingers nervously. I could tell there was something else on her mind. I felt a dreadful knot tighten in my stomach. She was about to tell me that this whole thing wasn’t going to work out. She’d seen too much. She knew too much. Or maybe she had no interest in a guy covered with scars. I could feel the bad news coming.

She cleared her throat. “I met Maggie.”

“What?” The word came out of me like a curse.

Olivia bit her bottom lip. “I was holding your hand and touched your – her – ring, and she talked to me.”

You can do that? I demanded inwardly.

Maggie sniffed. I’ve never had anyone I wanted to talk to before, other than you. That sounded an awful lot like an endorsement of … something.

I glanced at Maggie’s ring, then up at Olivia. She looked a little sheepish, like she knew she had broken some kind of taboo. “What did you talk about?” I managed.

Olivia shrugged. “You. Her. Me. Witchcraft. Elder gods. You know, girl stuff.”

Did … did you make a friend? I asked Maggie.

I seem to have. She sounded rather pleased with herself.

I had no idea how I felt about this. On one hand, that was amazing. It wasn’t like Maggie could go to bars or onto social media or any dating apps or any of the other ways people made friends these days. On the other hand, I was still holding onto the very real hope that Olivia and I could be a couple. I’d never dated anyone who knew about Maggie before. It brought up some uncomfortable questions.

Lucky for me, Olivia went full steam at those questions. She opened her mouth, hesitated a minute, then laced her fingers into those of my right hand. “So,” she said pointedly. “There are a few things we didn’t talk about. Like, if you can’t take the ring off, and she can’t leave, what exactly happens when you’re, you know?”

“Getting busy?” I asked, deadpan.

“Right.”

The cast on my left wrist was suddenly very itchy. I could feel the sheets beneath the small of my back getting sweaty. “She goes and reads a book.”

“Oh?”

“Aaaand … she sometimes watches.”

It’s boring in here! Maggie protested.

Olivia screwed her lips up, looking toward the ceiling for a moment as if deep in thought. Finally, she nodded to herself. “Look, I’m a witch – sorry, a nondenominational practitioner of witchcraft – so it’s not like it would be my first threesome. Things get kinky in coven internships.”

It was my turn to turn red. I cleared my throat. “Well. I suppose that’s cleared up, then. I, uh … it’s probably going to be a while until I’m physically fit for duty, as it were.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I heard troll-bloods heal quick.”

“Quicker than humans, that’s for sure.”

“Good.” She leaned over me, and I noticed for the first time just how low-cut her shirt was. She brought her lips right up against my ear. I felt my heart quicken. She whispered in a husky voice, “Because, reaper boy, I really need someone to put the second coat of paint on my kitchen wall.” She pulled away, patted me on the cheek, and headed for the door. “That wasn’t a euphemism, by the way. Really need to get that painted before the new stove arrives. Want me to sneak you in some Steak-N-Shake for dinner?”

I chuckled softly and closed my eyes. “Yes,” I said. “That sounds like the best thing in the world right now.”