Mortal Sins

SEVENTEEN

LILY hated hospitals. Just pulling into the parking lot of one made her jaw set, kind of like lowering her butt into the dentist’s chair. She was a reasonable woman, she thought as she locked her car and strode toward the entrance. She was glad some people didn’t share her aversion. It would be hard to staff the places if everyone shuddered at the thought of walking into one.

Though she didn’t see why anyone would want to work in a hospital. Maybe it was like coffee—you started drinking it, despite the taste, because you needed something to pry your eyes open, and before you knew it, you were grinding beans or paying five bucks for fancy caffeinated froth.

Pritchard Memorial was midsize. She’d been assured it had good doctors, good tech, and at least some shielding for that tech. They didn’t have a separate cardiac unit, though, so Hodge was in ICU awaiting surgery tomorrow, when his pacemaker would be replaced.

She stopped in the ER first, where she found that Ed Eames was about to be released. “I’m one of those ‘treated and released’ victims,” he told her with a smile that missed the cockiness she thought he was aiming for. “The kind who don’t get mentioned in the story by name. You heard anything about that woman? The young mother?”

“She’s out of surgery,” Lily told him. “They’re sounding hopeful about her chances.”

“Helluva thing.” He shook his head and repeated himself. “Helluva thing. Guess people are saying Hodge was quiet, kept to himself?”

“More that he was an old grouch.”

“Huh. I’ve covered this sort of story before. Never been part of it.”

He was wrong about that. He’d never covered anything like this, but Lily didn’t tell him that.

She made her way to the second floor and, after speaking with a nurse, a small waiting room near the ICU. For company she had a television tuned to an all-news channel and an elderly man with skin the color of old teak who never took his eyes off the TV.

While she waited for Hodge’s doctor, she composed an informal report. She didn’t object to the brief wait; organizing her data and theories for Ruben clarified her thinking. She did object to the seating.

Whoever thought that molding plastic to fit a so-called average shape was a good idea? No one, Lily decided as she shifted yet again, was really average, which meant the seats were uncomfortable for everyone. Democracy was great for many things, but furniture wasn’t one of them.

She’d just sent the report off—she had a USB GPRS modem on her laptop—when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and slid her laptop into its silk-lined pocket in her tote. “Yes?”

It was Brown. The neighbors had confirmed that Hodge apparently hadn’t had any recent visitors. She told him to let everyone grab something to eat; she’d call him back with instructions after speaking with Hodge.

“All right. You want some advice?”

“Sure.”

He was silent a second, as if she’d surprised him. “You’re young, you’ve got a major goddamned investigation on your hands, and you’re a control freak. Don’t ask how I know. I know because everyone in law enforcement’s a control freak—that’s how we get off. You’re going to try to do everything yourself. Don’t.”

“That’s your advice? Delegate?”

“That’s it. You won’t do it,” he said glumly. “But I’m such a goddamned optimist I had to say it anyway.”

He disconnected. She started to put her phone up, but saw that she had a text message from Rule. When she opened it, she sighed. He was leaving now, heading for Leidolf Clanhome with Toby. He wanted her to call tonight.

“Some people!”

Lily looked up. The pair of women who stood in the doorway were twins. Had to be. They wore matching helmet-heads of iron gray curls and matching floral smocks with pink stretch pants. It was an unfortunate fashion choice, since each woman was at least a hundred pounds overweight—with about fifty percent of that in their boobs.

They had identical glares, too. The one on the left spoke. “Cell phones are not allowed in the hospital. Do you want to make all those machines quit working?”

“That’s unlikely,” Lily said patiently, “according the Mayo Clinic, which found no problems when cell phones were used near hospital equipment. Admittedly, Dutch researchers did find some interference, but that was at distances of five centimeters or so.”

The other sister snorted. “I suppose you know better than the doctors who make the rules, missy!”

Guilt twinged. It was never easy for Lily to ignore a rule, even one that was based on faulty assumptions. “My job requires me to stay in touch, ma’am.” She glanced at her watch. If that doctor didn’t show up soon—

“Some people think they’re too important to follow the rules everyone else has to follow, don’t they, Bessie?” Pink Pants on the left moved ponderously into the room.

Bessie? Oh, my. Lily managed not to grin.

“Ladies?” said a man’s voice with a hint of an accent. “Excuse me, please, ladies . . .” A second later the owner of the voice emerged from behind the women. He wore scrubs.

Lily rose. “Dr. Patel?”

“Yes, yes.” He came forward, beaming as if she were a long-lost cousin, one hand outstretched. He had teeth of news-anchor brilliance, a square face, and skin a rich, coppery brown that made her think of Rule’s older brother Benedict, though he came from the other side of the world.

What she immediately liked about him, though, was his height—maybe one inch above her own. It was a rare and admirable trait.

“You are Lily Yu?” he said.

“I am.” Dr. Patel, she discovered as she shook his hand, had a minor Finding Gift. This wasn’t a big surprise, as a disproportionately large number of physicians had some trace of magic, and not necessarily one connected with healing. Finding could be a handy diagnostic tool, she supposed, though given the meager nature of his Gift, he might just think he had excellent hunches.

“I am sorry for the delay,” he said, and looked truly apologetic. “I am the only cardiologist in Halo, you see.”

“Doctor,” one of the twins said, “I wish to make a complaint. This woman insisted on using her cell phone.”

Dr. Patel smiled gently. “Ladies, I hope you will do me the courtesy of sitting down and resting yourselves while you wait to speak with your own doctor, with whom you may register all the complaints you wish. Agent Yu . . . ?” He gestured at the doorway.

“Agent?” one of the twins gasped.

Lily slung her tote on her shoulder and preceded the doctor into the hall.

“Nicely done,” she told him. “You remind me of my grandmother.” Actually he was much nicer, but Grandmother could—when she wanted—cut someone off at the knees with such exquisite courtesy that he’d be thanking her even as he bled out. She didn’t usually bother, but she could.

Dr. Patel smiled. “I believe this is a compliment? Then thank you. Now, about Mr. Hodge . . . I believe you administered CPR at the scene? That was well-done. However, I must ask you to keep your questioning brief. His condition is good, under the circumstances, but his mental state is not.”

“About his mental state—is he rational? Does he remember what happened?”

“Rational? Yes, to the extent that he understands where he is and who he is, and can give permission for treatment. I don’t know what he remembers of recent events. He certainly remembers me, and the last time he was here.”

“When you implanted his pacemaker.”

“Yes. He had a major myocardial infarction. In fact, he died on the way to the operating room. Quite dramatic. I was most pleased to be able to bring him back, offer him perhaps many more years of life.”

Dr. Patel didn’t look pleased. He looked grieved and guilty, regretting what his patient had done. “This is not for broadcast, Doctor, but in a very real sense I don’t believe Hodge killed those people. I don’t think he was in charge of his body when the trigger was pulled.”

He stopped, staring at her. “But what, then—”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you more.”

“If he is possessed . . . Agent Yu, we cannot have someone here who might harm other patients or staff. Unless he’s been exorcised—”

“There’s no demon in him now. I can be sure of that. I don’t believe he’s a danger to others at this time, but I’ve asked the chief of police to keep officers stationed at his room.”

“Yes, they’re here. I thought . . . I assumed Mr. Hodge was under arrest.”

“At this time, I consider him a key witness. I don’t know if he was complicit in what was done to him, or if he is every bit as much a victim as those who were shot. I intend to find out.”

“I see.” His expression said he didn’t see, not at all, but mixed with the puzzlement was relief. “I must say I did not see any signs in him earlier of the sort of disturbance that could have led to today’s actions. No symptoms of mania or schizophrenia, no rage, no terrible grievance that might erupt in indiscriminate violence. I had wondered at my lack of perception.”

“You weren’t responsible in any way for what happened today. Not even in the vague ‘I should have known’ sort of way.”

He looked down as if embarrassed. After a moment he nodded slightly. “Yes. Thank you. I must still ask you to keep your questions brief. Ten minutes at most, and I will be present to monitor his condition.”

“I’d assumed you would be.” That’s why she’d felt free to tell him as much as she had. He was going to hear it anyway.

He started moving again, headed for the door at the end of the hall. “Perhaps your visit will not be as stressful for him as I had thought, however.”

Lily couldn’t assure him of that. She needed Hodge to remember, and remembering had pushed Meacham over his personal edge. “We’ll see. I will have to . . .” She stopped, staring at the neatly lettered sign taped to the door leading to ICU: no GIFTED persons allowed beyond this point. “What the hell?”

“The sign? It’s a new policy. The hospital board fears the disruption that magic might bring to delicate equipment.”

Lily reached out, ripped the sign off, and handed it to Patel. “Tell them they’d do better to fear the lawsuits that prejudice might bring to their delicate hospital.”

He blinked. “But this isn’t a matter of prejudice. Magic can affect some of our instruments. We lost several patients at the Turning. Mr. Hodge’s malfunctioning pacemaker proves that magic and technology do not mix well.”

“There’s a problem with raw magic, loose magic. The magic in someone with a Gift isn’t loose, dammit. And we don’t know what Hodge is an example of, but his pacemaker quit because of death magic, not because someone’s Gift leaked on him.”

“Unless we can guarantee that Gifted persons will not accidentally expose our patients to risk—”

“Guess what. You’ve probably got Gifted people in there right now, as patients or staff or both. You do still treat the Gifted, don’t you? Had any problems with your tech? We can find out for sure in a few seconds—as soon as you step through that door. We’ll see if you make the equipment turn wonky.”

“Me?” His voice rose. “I’m not—you’re mistaken.”

“You. A minor Gift, admittedly, but I bet you never lose your car keys.” She shoved the door open and stepped through.

How about that? Turned out some rules were real easy for her to break.

IT was a good thing Dr. Patel had told her Hodge was doing okay. She wouldn’t have guessed it to look at him.

Franklin Hodge had a long face, deeply grooved, with short salt-and-pepper hair curled tightly against his skull. His skin was that rare shade that looks almost black, unlike most people of African descent, who come in so many hues of brown. At the moment he was ashy, grayed out by a tricky heartbeat.

Or by memory. “Mr. Hodge,” Lily said softly, “I’m Agent Lily Yu with the FBI. I need to ask you some questions. I’m going to record our conversation.” She set the recorder on his bedside table.

He turned his head away without speaking.

“I need to know what happened to you. I need to keep it from happening to anyone else.”

Slowly his head turned back toward her. His eyes were dull. “What do you mean?”

“Did it happen today? Or yesterday, or the day before?”

His throat moved as he swallowed. “You know. You know what it is, what did that to me.” One large, pink-palmed hand groped toward her.

Lily had to force herself to take that reaching hand. The slimy prickle of death magic was much less than it had been earlier—fading, but still present. “I need you to describe it for me.”

“I was tidying up the kitchen. I like things tidy. I was washing the coffeepot and then all at once . . . it was like winter came inside me and froze me and I was just watching. Watching myself holding that pot, and the water still running. I was so cold. I couldn’t move.” He licked his lips. “For the longest time all I could do was stand there and see that coffeepot. I couldn’t blink or look away. I couldn’t do one thing. Then I saw my hand stretch out and shut off the water.” He shuddered. “I saw it, but I didn’t do it.”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am, it was. I . . . for a bit I just moved around the house, or my body moved and my mind went along. I had no choice in that. Then I started thinking about my gun.” The hand Lily held trembled. “Only it didn’t really feel like me thinking. More like something goosed me somehow and made me think about it, where it was and all. And once I did . . . once I did . . .”

“What happened?”

“My body turned itself around and tried to hurry. Stupid of it. I’ve got a bum knee. It gave out and I fell and banged it. Hurt like blazes, but that was okay, that would have been fine, if I could’ve just made myself blink. But all I could do was lie there, and for a second, just a second, it seemed like I heard someone. Like someone felt sorry for me, being old and hurting. I thought maybe God wanted to help me. I prayed so hard . . .” His eyes sheened with moisture. He blinked. “So hard, but it didn’t help. After a bit my body stood itself back up a bit and went . . . went to get my gun.”

“What time did you wash out your coffeepot, Mr. Hodge?”

“’Bout nine thirty. The doctor here doesn’t want me to drink coffee anymore, but I like a couple cups in the morning. I don’t have but two cups, though.”

Lily took him through the rest of the morning’s events, circling away when he grew agitated, asking about his contacts in the last four days, his knowledge of magic, any connection to Roy Don Meacham. He blinked a lot, she noticed. Not as much as Meacham, but more than was normal.

She circled back again to that morning, what he remembered, what he’d experienced. “You didn’t hear a voice telling you what to do? Or have thoughts in your head that didn’t seem to come from you?”

“No. No, it wasn’t like that. I just watched while my body did what it did. I couldn’t make it stop.” His eyes watered again and his voice shook. “Couldn’t make it stop.”

“Agent Yu,” Doctor Patel said, “I’m afraid your ten minutes are over.”

“Did you feel anything different? Were your sensations the same?”

Patel moved closer, to stand on the other side of the bed from Lily. “I must ask you to leave now.”

“S’okay, Doctor,” Hodge said, but his voice was growing weak. “I want to tell her . . . just the cold.”

“When?”

“The whole time. I got chilled right away, but not bad, and it kept getting colder, right up until . . .”

“Yes?”

A tear spilled down one grooved cheek. “Right up till my body started killing people. Then the cold went away. Then I was warm.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hodge.” She shut off the recorder. “Ah—are your eyes bothering you?”

“Didn’t blink enough,” he said softly. “When my body was running things, it didn’t blink enough. Left my eyes sore.”

Dr. Patel’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You must tell me these things, Mr. Hodge. I will see you get some drops.”

Lily slid the recorder back in her tote and took something else out. “I brought something from your house. I hoped it might bring you some comfort.”

When he saw what she held, he smiled—a small, weary smile, maybe, but there was an easing around his eyes and in the worn lines of his face. “My Maisie’s Bible. Yes, ma’am, that is a comfort. Thank you. Ma’am?”

“Yes?” His hands were shaky. She slid the Bible under one.

“Do you know what did that to me? What made my body do those terrible things?”

“Not yet. I will.”

He studied her a moment with weary eyes. “I ’spect you will. Yes, ma’am, I ’spect you will.” His eyes drifted closed.

Once again, Dr. Patel indicated that Lily should precede him out of the room. And when he closed the door on Hodge’s room, he said, “That was nicely done. Although I can’t say you remind me of my grandmother, not when—Agent Yu?” He reached for her.

Lily didn’t quite fall. The dizziness had hit so suddenly, between one breath and the next, that her legs buckled, but she didn’t fall. Dr. Patel’s arm helped. “Give me a minute.”

“You must sit.”

“No, I have to . . .” Had to get her breath, which was being squeezed out of her, making her so weak it was an effort to get words out.

She knew what was wrong. Dammit to hell. She knew.

After months of quiescence, the mate bond had picked now to act up. Now, when Rule was in a car with Toby . . . “I need to go that way,” she said, nodding to the south. That’s where Rule was, and she had to close some of the distance between them. Fast.

She needed the doctor’s help. He didn’t want her moving, but she wasn’t going to do what he wanted, so he gave in and helped. She shuffled back out of the ICU, all the way down the hall, past the entrance to the waiting room . . . and finally, just as she reached the elevators, it eased.

She drew a deep breath. “Okay. I’m okay now.”

“You most certainly are not.” The doctor was angry. “I don’t know what is wrong, but you certainly must be examined.”

She dug her phone out of her pocket. “My condition is . . . unusual, nothing you would have heard of. Trust me. I’m all right now.” She hit speed dial, her heart pounding and her mouth dry, and remembered to add, “Thank you for helping me.”

“Whether you wish it or not, I am not finished helping you.” He grabbed the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and took her pulse.

And then, thank God, she heard Rule’s voice. “We’re fine. I pulled over in time and am turning around now. The dizziness eased enough for me to do that, which I assume means you’re mobile? Unhurt?”

“I’m fine. You’re coming back.”

“I have to, don’t I?”