The Isis Collar

14

Dr. Gaetano was busy typing into a tiny netbook, pausing every few moments to look into a portable microscope. Rizzoli was in the corner, issuing orders by telephone until the results of his tests came back. He’d been exposed. No, I hadn’t bitten him, but the doc wasn’t taking any chances.

Gaetano kept speaking while he typed. “The primary transmission vector of M. necrose, according to field reports from other countries, is saliva introduction to the bloodstream. I haven’t found any sign this strain is any different, which is why I removed the suit.”

“But don’t we need to check out the school, or find anyone I’ve interacted with from there? I mean, I haven’t bitten anyone … that I know of. But those kids—” I didn’t mention there have been times I haven’t remembered things. I didn’t want to think about that.

It was obvious he’d been called from home, from the jeans and polo shirt revealed from beneath the white Tyvek suit. “You’re right, we do need to track down the source, plus anyone Celia might have infected. Exposure was probably two to six months ago, but I don’t think the vampire bite is the cause. I need a list of your sexual encounters in the last six months—specifically anyone who had open sores or unexplained bruises.”

The statement, uttered so matter-of-factly, was so unexpected that I let out a surprised squeak and then coughed. “Um … there aren’t any.”

He raised his eyebrows while lowering his chin, like he didn’t believe me. “Ms. Graves, please. We’re all adults here and this is extremely important. We need to find anyone else who might be infected.”

I understood that. I did. “I’m telling the truth. A kiss here or there, maybe some snuggling, but really—embarrassing as it is to admit—I haven’t had sex with anyone.”

Bruno busied himself with picking up the used syringe with gloved hands and putting it in the sharps container on the wall. He stuffed the remains of the Styrofoam container in after it. But he wasn’t quick enough for me not to notice he was pleased at my admission.

Dr. Gaetano was examining my leg again, blocking my view, and poking at the skin with what felt like calipers. “How about the scars on your chest? How long have you had those?” Wow. He was noticing a lot of things. I had to admit that my V-neck T-shirt did reveal the tops of a series of scars on my chest.

“They appeared after an exorcism.”

Bruno added, “Took two priests, a bishop, and EMTs to bring her back after her heart stopped.”

I had another thought. “I was choked by a demon last year and had claw punctures in my neck. What about that?”

Gaetano shook his head. “We’ve never been able to tie this bacterium to the demonic. So we’ll let that go for the moment unless we can’t find anything else.”

“Honestly, it only started acting up after the bomb at the school.” I blinked. “Wait a sec; she bit me.”

Everyone turned to me, riveted. “Who bit you?”

“Willow, the little girl. When I was carrying her out of the school.”

“How long ago was this?”

I told him. He shook his head. “I can’t imagine that’s an issue, but I’ll want to see the child.”

“That should be easy enough.” Rizzoli slid his cell phone into his pocket. “They have her at St. Anthony’s.”

I shifted, trying to get a better look at him. There was something … odd … about his voice. When I moved, several hairs got caught in the table and were yanked out of my head. Ow. It suddenly occurred to me that I was feeling pain in other parts of my body … because the pain in my leg was less. It made me light-headed and giddy even though I couldn’t see much difference yet. But the lack of pain in my leg made me realize there was pain in other parts of my body. My stomach and shoulder and the small of my back. Had it spread? My heart fluttered nervously. C’mon, antibiotic!

“Can I please sit up now? This table is killing my lower back. I don’t think I’m a danger to anyone. My stomach’s settled and I don’t feel like biting.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I wasn’t hungry, despite the pain. And it wasn’t as sharp a pain as my leg had been.

“I don’t see why we can’t release the bonds,” Dr. Gaetano said. Everyone in the room looked at him, heads spinning like some freaky mix of Thriller meets The Exorcist. “But I still need to get the names of anyone you’ve … kissed, along with any clients you’ve guarded, in the past few months. I understand you’re a bodyguard? As for an event just a few weeks ago, that’s highly doubtful. As I said, the incubation is months long.”

Normally, the question about my clients would be one I couldn’t answer because of the confidentiality agreements I use. But luckily for me, I’d taken a vacation after the closing of the demonic rift and that holiday job from Rizzoli and had just chilled. Other than a jellyfish sting on my arm and a pinched toe from a hermit crab on the beach, it had been a really quiet three months … until the school. “Actually, I haven’t been working much lately. My last job was sort of taxing.” I looked at where Rizzoli had been standing, but he wasn’t there. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“Release her?” Bruno sputtered. “Shouldn’t we be transporting her to a secure facility until the drug takes effect? At the very least, she’ll need physical therapy for months.”

Dr. Gaetano shrugged. “Oh, we’ll be going to the hospital for more tests. No question about that. But I don’t see a reason for restraints at this point. The leg looks remarkably better already. The drug has taken effect, and she probably won’t need therapy. Take a look.”

Everyone looked back at me. I managed to move my head and leg so I could see the pale, unblemished skin. My stomach lurched with a combination of happiness and worry even though my head was still aching. “Whoa. That was fast. Will my head feel better soon?”

Gaetano shrugged. “You don’t follow the normal parameters at all. Whether it’s your siren heritage or the vampire blood, you heal really fast. I’d imagine the pain in your head will eventually fade. Obviously, I’m pleased. I want to take another saliva sample and do more tests at the hospital, but I honestly think we’ve got this licked.”

Bruno said, “But don’t you think—”

I interrupted him. “You’re right; the normal parameters don’t apply.” I tried to take a deep breath that came out as a series of shallow coughs. “Too fast. Everything is too fast. I’m really worried about the people at the school.”

Rizzoli appeared again and I hadn’t seen him enter. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like that he gave Gaetano a warning look. They knew more than they were saying. I was going to find out what that was, one way or another.

Dr. Sloan walked in as Bruno was struggling to get the chest bands to release. He went to the wall, fumbling to get the heavy, oddly shaped metal key into the slot that controlled the restraints. My fingernails started tapping on the metal, trying to hurry him by sheer effort. Finally the key turned and I heard a click. I hadn’t been kind to the metal in my struggles, but thankfully the bands all slid back into the tabletop and I finally took my first deep breath since I’d arrived in the room. I immediately got off the table and started stretching to see what was just stiff and sore versus … well, versus other things that made my chest tight. “That was a close one.” Dr. Sloan spoke sort of under his breath and it made me respond.

“What was?”

He shook his head as I tugged on the chopped leg of my jeans. They’d cut it short—really short, probably in case they had to do more injections. But I had swimsuits that covered more. I felt unusually bare in a room full of men. I didn’t catch any of them staring, but I was ready to change into something a little less revealing.

“I heard Dr. Lackley’s voice in the building. He’s been working a lot of nights and he’s been on a rampage lately about unauthorized use of the facilities. I didn’t want him to catch us in here like … like this. I really want to work with Bruno on his project. I’d hate to have an incident involving him after lab hours. So I intercepted him and asked him for a copy of a student evaluation I knew he’d have to get from his office. But we’ll have to leave soon.”

Bruno let out a noise that told me he remembered the college president all too well and was happy to avoid a confrontation. Of course, he and I aren’t on the best of terms, either. I wouldn’t say that Donald Lackley precisely hates me, but he hates what I represent. I’m one of those really stubborn people who take advantage of openings and then won’t leave. “Yeah, he’d be happy to use this as an excuse to boot my butt out of here.”

I was technically an enrolled student, so I could use the facilities during school hours. But Dr. Lackley was just waiting for me to screw up. I was one of the last holdouts of a failed promotion that the school had canceled once the administration had realized the potential long-term costs. I had no doubt he was pushing the professor to kick me out of the gardening class, but this would be even better as far as he was concerned. The Board would never question a clear rule violation to end my insurance. Of course, what good is insurance if it doesn’t work? Maybe I should just let it end.

We snuck out the back door of the building, leaving Dr. Sloan to deal with Lackley then meet us outside. The night air was cold and moist, feeling more of fall than spring. The overhead lights were hazy through the mist, but my vampire eyesight quickly took over and the world became sharply defined. Even in the darkest shadows, I could see the outline of every tree, every person walking across the quad toward the dorms or snuggling in pairs on blankets on the grass. In fact, I could see each individual blade of grass. It’s amazing to me how much of the world I had missed seeing when I was human.

Dr. Sloan was waiting on the sidewalk near the front door and joined us silently. I wanted to ask a ton of questions, but now wasn’t the time. We moved as a group toward the parking lot, keeping quiet until we were well outside the invisible barrier that surrounded the science building. It was only then that anyone felt comfortable enough to stop and speak.

As usual, Rizzoli took charge. “So what’s next? Who’s going with who? I brought Celia here, so someone is going to have to take her to the hospital.”

The headlights of a tall truck, slowly winding through the narrow campus roadways, appeared. Dr. Sloan said, “Oh, look, that’s probably the table from the FBI. Come, Bruno, Agent Rizzoli—help me flag it down.” He moved off with speed that was astounding for a man his age. Rizzoli smiled and followed at a sprint.

The table. Crap. I’d forgotten all about it. Was it the memory problems again, or just too much happening in too small a space of time?

Bruno groaned. “I should have remembered how he is before I asked him to be my advisor. I’ll be the equivalent of a slave for the next year.” He pulled me into a hug. “Go get tested. Be okay and call me when you know something. Okay? I’ll check on you in the morning.” I was enjoying the sensation of his body against mine, warm and alive. He is the best damned hugger ever. The scent of his cologne and his skin muddied my mind, and apparently I didn’t respond quickly enough, because Bruno pulled back. “Okay?”

“Hmm? Oh! Sure, okay. I’ll do that.” I’d had to blink repeatedly to focus on his question, and he smiled with possessive amusement.

I cleared my throat and felt a blush rise again. “But you try to get some sleep sometime. Dr. Sloan will probably work you until you drop tonight, getting the circle up around that table.” I leaned forward to give him a quick kiss, but he pulled back, an alarmed expression widening his eyes.

“That would probably be a bad idea until we know more, don’t you think? No kissing until you’re cleared by Dr. Gaetano. And no … other things, either.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Like I said, other things haven’t been an issue for a while.” In fact, the last other thing I’d indulged in had been with Bruno, years ago. But that was nobody’s business. While I’d never really thought about it, and my therapist, Gwen, had never asked, it was probably significant. The more I thought about that, the weirder it seemed. I could nearly hear Gwen’s voice in my head, asking whether I was carrying a torch for Bruno that hadn’t allowed me to get close to anyone.

Eek.

He took my expression of sudden panic the wrong way. “Good. You’re taking this seriously. Now go.” He trotted off toward the two men standing next to the now-parked, unmarked, Army-style canvas truck. I listened hard, trying to focus on their conversation, but they were whispering and all I got was mud.

That left me and Dr. Gaetano alone. I looked at him and shrugged. “Guess it’s you and me.”

“Let’s get moving. We’ll get you checked into the isolation ward and start the testing.”

Whoa. The isolation ward? “Isn’t that a little extreme? I thought you said it was pretty much gone.”

He nodded as he started to walk toward one of the few cars left in the parking lot, a low-slung silver car that was nearly the color of the touch of gray nibbling at his temples. “On your leg, yes. But I have no way of knowing whether your internal organs have been compromised. Until we test to make sure you’re clear of the infection, we have to treat you as infected and contagious.”

Oh, what fun. I got to go from being tied down to locked up. What a terrific night this was turning out to be.

“Again? You just took samples twenty minutes ago. What’s up with the lab tonight?” The technician with a nameplate reading Brad was the same guy who’d been in three times in the past two hours. The blue scrubs and blood-draw cart were becoming a regular sight, which wasn’t a good thing. He gave me a dirty look and I gave him one right back. I’d been locked behind glass and silver-steel doors for hours now, dressed in one of those stupid floral print cotton gowns. At least I was still wearing my bra and panties and, oddly, I did feel more covered than wearing the jeans. They’d given me the option to leave on my street clothes, but at least in the gown I wasn’t flashing everyone who walked by down the hallway. Thankfully, Dawna was on her way down with fresh clothes. I felt horrible calling her considering how early she’d gotten up. But I had tried Emma first, who wasn’t home, and Gran didn’t really drive much anymore.

“You think maybe it’s not us but the fact you’re half dead? It’s throwing off every sample we put in.”

Well, yeah. That could be it, too, I suppose. “So why do you keep drawing blood? I thought it was saliva that was infectious.”

He shrugged as he reached for my arm with latex-covered fingers. “Mine is not to ask why. The doctor in charge ordered more blood. I just get it.”

I sighed and tried not to look as he tied off my biceps and pressed for a vein. My eyes closed just before I flinched from the poke of the needle. “You going to leave me any for later? I don’t know how well I replace my supply without help.”

He’d already seen the teeth the first time he’d come in the room—after the nurse who had been first assigned refused to get close enough for me to grab. He wasn’t impressed or afraid, which surprised me.

It was sort of nice. But also sort of weird.

Just as he was pulling out the needle there was a thump against the wall that made us both jump. It was the tenth time since I’d arrived and it was getting annoying. The tech missed with the cotton ball and a small spray of blood followed the needle out of my arm. “Oops. Sorry about that. What was that?”

I held the cotton ball against my arm while he opened yet another Band-Aid. I already had two others on the opposite arm. “Don’t know. But it’s driving me nuts. You’d think an isolation ward would have thick enough walls to not bother the other patients.” When I said “patients” his face lost what little color it already had. I’ve known a lot of lab guys who don’t get in the sun much. But his sudden look at the wall made me realize he might know very well what was on the other side. “What? Who’s in the next room?”

He caught himself and turned a fake smile toward me. I knew it was fake because I’d worn one myself many times. “I need to get these samples back to the lab. The doctor will be in shortly.”

Yeah, right. Shortly. That was hospital speak for “whenever the hell he gets here.” I let Brad go without questioning him more, but I would be finding out what was in that next room before I left.

In fact, Dr. Gaetano showed up with another man in a white coat after another hour had gone by. I raised my brows and let out a frustrated sigh and said to neither, and both of them, “Y’know, it would probably be better for patient morale if you didn’t put a clock on the wall to watch the hours tick by. At least a magazine would have helped.”

His gaze flicked up the wall and he nodded before opening the metal chart in his hands. “Good point. We’ll have it removed.” Then he met my eyes and a glimmer of humor peeked out from inside the vivid green. “But luckily for you, the wait is over, so I won’t have to bring you reading material.”

Oh, thank the Lord! “The tests came back negative?”

He nodded once. “Dr. Swanson and I were just going over the results. We’re very fortunate to have him on staff. He’s actually seen cases of M. necrose in the field in the Sudan.”

The short, stocky doctor had a swarthy edge that resembled classic Greek, despite his surname. “I’ve been admonishing Dr. Gaetano for not taking photographs of your calf while the infection was at its peak. It’s hard to judge when the saliva, blood, and tissue appear normal. But I finally found the antibodies I was looking for in your blood in this last sample. It’s just taken a little while for it to develop.”

Oh. Photographs. Yeah, that would have been handy in case there were other victims. Oops. I flinched involuntarily when something hit the wall again. Both the doctors looked at the wall and then at each other. “Okay, so what is that? The tech earlier stared at the wall like it terrified him.”

Dr. Swanson shrugged. “It probably did. Frankly, I’m appalled it’s still here.”

Gaetano let out a weary sigh. “This isn’t Sudan, Panos. The situation’s not that simple.”

The other doctor merely shrugged like it was an argument he wasn’t willing to revive. “Perhaps. But I think it would be useful to show Ms. Graves what she narrowly avoided and why it’s important she’s very open and honest about her recent interactions with people.”

The way he said it made Dr. Gaetano frown and let out a slow breath. “It’s not a freak show. It’s a person’s life, Doctor.”

Swanson’s eyes were both sad and fierce. “No. It’s a person’s death, Tom. She deserves her life to mean something.”

“Um,” I interrupted. “If I have a vote, I’d like to see. I’m not easily shocked. If that matters for anything.”

Dr. Gaetano passed over my chart to Swanson with a slightly disgusted expression. “Show her if you must. But I want no part of it. I have rounds to make.” He stormed out the automatic doors with fists clenched. I risked a glance at Dr. Swanson, who just shrugged.

“He’ll get over it. Tom is a clinical researcher. He hasn’t seen the things I have in the field.”

Ah. “In other words, he’s not jaded yet.” I understand that. Been there, done that, have the bloody T-shirt.

“He’s not being realistic. But that’s going to have to change. And soon. We only have six isolation wards. If this really is the beginning of a coming pandemic, he won’t have any choice.” He turned and crooked his finger for me to follow.

Um. So no, while still in my hospital gown. “Can you give me a second? If I’m being discharged, I’d like to wear real clothes out of here.”

He really had been a doctor too long, because that was apparently the first moment he noticed the gown. “Oh! I’m sorry. Of course. I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

It didn’t take me long to change, simply because I had no idea when the door might next open. I hated that I had to wear the butt-cheek-revealing jeans but hoped the only reason Dawna hadn’t delivered the clothes was because of the isolation ward. I doubt they allow many visitors. It’s not ICU. It’s even a step above quarantine. When I walked out into the hallway, Dr. Swanson was reading my chart. I didn’t know how much was in there, but I was betting there was a lot from the specialists I visited, since several of them were based out of the hospital. “Interesting reading?”

Rather than being startled or appearing embarrassed, he looked up and nodded eagerly. “Fascinating. You’ve had an interesting life. And death.”

“And life again. I’m planning to stay on this side of that coin.” That made him quirk a smile my way. “Shall we?” I motioned down the hall, but he closed the chart and pointed in the other direction.

He moved into the lead since obviously I had no idea where I was going in the maze of hallways. We reached a doorway after a series of turns that left me unsure where the hospital entrance was if I had to navigate back. “The patient you’re going to see is in an advanced state of M. necrose—where you could have gone without Mage DeLuca’s and Dr. Gaetano’s quick intervention.”

I was getting a little nervous about him opening the door, but instead of the door opening, the press of a button opened a window through it. Great. How many people had done that to me while I was sitting swinging my legs from the exam table?

That thought was swept from my mind as I caught sight of what was in the room. I say what instead of who because I had no doubt there was no who left inside the walking corpse behind the reinforced door. “My God.” I unconsciously crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic. There are some things that sort of require appealing to a higher power. “She’s not alive, is she?”

I could tell the zombie I was staring at was female simply because of the curves and tatters of the skirt covering the blackened lesions on a background of red and purple oozing skin. The eyes were white and unseeing as the zombie walked around the room, searching for … well, I don’t know what. “What is she looking for?”

Dr. Swanson looked at me significantly. “A victim. Someone to bite or scratch to transmit the infection. She won’t find one, of course, unless someone is foolish enough to go inside. We had to nearly restrain her adult daughter from opening the door.”

I shuddered to think what I would do if it was my gran inside that room. Would I care about the obvious necrotic skin, or would I run to her to envelop her in a hug? Scary. “Why is she even here? What are you going to do with her?”

He let out a huff of frustration. “Good question. I haven’t a clue. In Sudan, we would have lassoed her and dragged her into a fire to cleanse the infection. But since she was a patient here when she died, the hospital’s hands are tied. She’s still mobile, despite the fact there are no brain waves or heartbeat. They have to worry about the family suing if they make the wrong choice about what to do. In my opinion, she should be burned.”

“But what if she can be healed, like me?” Was it just luck I was given the treatment? Would this doctor have denied me that?

“There was no saving her once she arrived. I would have moved heaven and earth for her if she’d had vital signs when she arrived. She didn’t. But the staff here has no concept of this infection. They put her in the morgue until I happened to pick up her chart and read the symptoms. I ran downstairs and managed to get the body before it became animated again. The bacteria took over once she was in this room. Thankfully, the staff who came into contact have received the antibiotic.” It was at that moment that the corpse ran into the window, making me jump back for no reason. Just creeped out, I guess.

“Who was she? I’m worried I might know her.” I had a sickening feeling I’d seen that skirt set before.

Dr. Swanson furrowed his brow for a moment. “Sanchez, I think. She worked at a local grade school.”

Bile rose into my throat. Jamisyn said she’d died. And as I looked into the swollen white eyes above oozing black pustules and split lips, I realized the truth.

He’d been right.