The Isis Collar

18

I was still looking for a place to park when the radio announcer came on with a “special bulletin.” They announced that there appeared to be an unconfirmed case of M. necrose right here in Santa Maria de Luna. Not only did they use the actual name of the condition, they even had a sound bite with the bartender.

Crap, crap, crap. Were they trying to start a panic?

I pulled into the nearest parking spot and sprinted for the emergency room. If the bartender gave the press names, and he would, they’d be descending on Molly right here in the ER, which was just exactly what she didn’t need.

I found her in one of the smaller ER waiting areas, sitting on one of those hard, plastic chairs. The girls ran to their mother and Molly began rocking Julie in her lap. Her eyes were dry, but haunted, and I would swear she didn’t see any of the people milling around her.

I went up to the reception desk and tried to explain my problem. She didn’t swear … but she wanted to. “Come on. There’s an empty room just outside the isolation area. She can wait in there. I’ll have a tech take samples and let Dr. Gaetano know where to find her.”

So while Molly and the girls hid in a quiet room with a single bed, I went to move the bikes from Rizzoli’s car to Molly’s. I came back upstairs and heard the nearly silent sobbing before I saw Molly Murphy’s face. There was such warmth there, in the cold, quiet, sterile place. The remote for the television sat on one of those rolling tables that fit over the bed, but we didn’t turn on the set. Neither of us wanted to see the news.

Brad of the blue scrubs came in moments later, looking grim. It was one thing to banter with a half-vampire woman who had seen weird stuff. It was another thing entirely to see the bruise on a little girl and know what it meant. He was very nice and kind and I appreciated it.

It took a while for the doctor to get back to us. Not long really, according to the clock. It felt like hours … even days. Julie dozed in her mother’s lap while Beverly paced like a caged animal. I perched on a straight-backed chair covered in cold vinyl.

When the doctor finally did come in, it was Thomas Gaetano, wearing blue scrubs, his hair still damp from a recent shower. His professional demeanor didn’t waver, but I could tell he was weary, and worried.

“We have a positive culture.”

Molly’s body reacted as if to a physical blow. But she was tough. Her voice was steady, her eyes dry, as she asked the inevitable. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious gesture of frustration. “It shouldn’t have grown enough to identify that fast. We’ll start her on the antibiotic, and we’ll need samples from you and your other daughter. In the meantime, we need more tests. I’ll speed up the check-in process for her and she’ll have a roommate from her same school.”

My heart sank. “Who?”

Gaetano looked sad, and angry. “A little first grader named Willow. She’s pretty and very sweet.”

“Do whatever you have to do to make her well.” Molly spoke softly. She petted Julie’s hair and her lip quivered. Beverly watched her mother with growing concern even though she was old enough to know there was nothing she could do. She stood in the corner with thin arms wrapped around her body. I went to her and put an arm around her. She didn’t hug me, but I think it helped.

Gaetano noticed the interaction between the four of us. “We’ll do our best.”

“I know you will.”

There wasn’t much else he could say to her, and she wasn’t asking questions—probably didn’t even know what questions to ask. I didn’t want to alarm her. There was no way I was going to describe what had happened to Principal Sanchez. No doubt she’d met the woman recently. I followed Gaetano into the hallway.

“How bad is it?”

“I won’t lie to you. It’s bad. And she doesn’t have vampire and siren healing abilities. Willow is worse still. I normally wouldn’t put them together, but I’m afraid I’m going to run out of beds really quickly. The Atlanta office is trying to have the affected areas stay isolated, so other hospitals will refer suspected people here. It’s going to get busy fast.”

“Can you have someone do for her antibiotics what Bruno did for mine?”

He shook his head sadly. “We were only able to do that for you because of your special nature. Julie’s not strong enough to survive it.”

Damn. “So, what do we do?”

“I get to work. You wait. And pray.”

Before he went back to work, though, he gave me a quick once-over. I was still fine. No pain, at the moment, not even the headache. Although it had been so busy I hadn’t had a chance to think about it. He was pleased, but asked me to stay in touch with him for the next few days. In the meantime he’d be keeping my mom, Julie, Willow, and Rizzoli’s son, Mikey, in the isolation ward until he was confident that the vaccine was working. Bruno was apparently on his way to spend the night in the same ward. As far as anyone could tell, I had been Bruno’s only contact with the disease, so if he checked positive, it was a bad thing. Gaetano had left word for John, but thus far he hadn’t gotten a call back.

Dr. Gaetano also scheduled a time for me to come to the hospital’s lab on Wednesday to see if I’d be a good subject to pull antibodies from since they’d started to develop. I hadn’t been really thrilled with that idea, what with the siren and vampire blood. But if it became an issue of life and death for a bunch of kids … well, we’d have to see. Plus, I had no doubt Dr. Sloan would be fascinated with my blood tests.

Talking to Dr. Gaetano had reawakened my worries about John. Where was he? I went outside, turned on the cell phone, and dialed for messages. There was only one. It was from Rizzoli.

It didn’t take long for the team to figure out that one of the guards from Birchwoods had wired your car. Once we realized he’s threatened you before, we got a warrant to check out his place. We found all the ingredients for the aggression spell and a suitcase filled with unmarked bills, so I think we’ve got our hit man. He’s in custody and he’s already confessed he was hired by a witch to get you out of the way. I can get him on a charge of attempted murder of a federal contractor. The threat of life in a federal pen should loosen his tongue even more. We’ll talk tomorrow. Get some dinner and sleep. You’re probably going to need it. —Dom

So, it really was Gerry. Damn. I’d hoped he could get past irrational hate. But I suppose not. As for rest, I couldn’t disagree. But food first, because sunset was quickening my heart even more and making me want to pace … to hunt. The shield around the buildings radiated with magic I normally shouldn’t be able to see. The people in the building, behind the magic, glowed and pulsed, revealing the energy in their veins I craved. Crap. Even my headache wasn’t stopping my muscles from bunching up every time someone quickened their pace a little. The ER had affected me in ways I hadn’t expected.

I needed to get something to eat pretty damned fast if I had any hope of getting any sleep tonight.