Chapter Five #2
probably best to keep the fact that he was an angel under wraps in a demon
hospital. Yes, he’d had to reveal his identity when he was treated yesterday,
and several staff members knew he was Idess’s brother, but she’d assured him
that no one would blab. Apparently, the doctor who ran the hospital was a
stickler for rules.
As if Aurora knew she was being discussed, she moaned. Her
eyes flickered open and locked with his, swirling with
fear and confusion that he actually felt. Understood.
Because hundreds of years ago at the age of eighteen, he’d been beaten,
tortured, and caged while waiting for his turn at the chopping block. The only
question was whether he’d lose one hand or two for stealing the bread he’d been
desperately hungry for.
Then he’d woken in a soft bed in a castle in Belgium,
surrounded by strangers and confused as hell. So he
knew what Aurora was experiencing, and instinctively, he reached for her hand.
Blaspheme blocked him, and in that instant, he realized she
was no demon. Her energy, dancing on his skin like butterfly wings, was
angelic.
Blaspheme was an angel. Her heavenly vibe was weak, so she
wasn’t a full-fledged Heavenly resident, but neither did she emit the shadowy
vibe of an Unfallen, the evil vibe of a True Fallen, or the flat, stale vibe of
a fellow Memitim. Interesting.
“I need you to hang out in the waiting room,” she said
sternly, leaving no room for argument. “Or you can leave your contact information and I’ll update you when I can.”
As reluctant as he was to leave Aurora, he understood duty.
And it was a good thing, too, because if he didn’t, Drayger
would be dead by now.
Scalpels and bone saws. Grotesque scenes of gore
and body parts. Bits of flesh and hair sticking to tarps. A handsome man
reaching for her but unable to connect. Snarling monsters emerging from the fog
in dark parking lots. The rattle of chains, the stench of burning blood. The
man was reaching for her again, but she was being dragged away by clawed hands.
No!
Aurora woke to the sounds of screams. It was only after a
warm hand closed over hers that she opened her eyes and realized that the
screams had come from her. As her blurry vision cleared, chains on the ceiling
came into sharp focus, and another scream lodged in her throat.
There are chains on the ceiling.
She lurched upright in bed, her heart pounding, her breaths
coming in spastic gasps. Where was she? And who was the hot blond guy dressed
in jeans and leather sitting next to her bed? He looked familiar...especially
those piercing emerald eyes.
There are chains on the fucking ceiling!
A vision of him in a dark parking lot flashed in her mind,
and she saw herself blasting him in the chest with every drop of power she’d
been able to muster.
He was the man reaching for her over and
over.
He was real.
Oh, God, the nightmares had been real. Not dreams, but
memories.
Her throat closed up even as her
lungs tried to take in air. Everything closed in on her, turning her own body
into a prison. Or a coffin. Was this what claustrophobia felt like? She wanted
to scream, to flail, but where would that get her?
Close your eyes. Calm down. Focus on breathing. It
was what she told her tense clients at the spa. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
Open your eyes. Feel the peace.
There were still chains on the ceiling.
“Hey, it’s okay.” The man covered her cold hand with his
warm one. “You’re safe now.” The stranger’s deep voice soothed her, which made
no sense, given that he was part of her nightmare.
You whacked some Good Samaritan who was probably trying
to help you.
Okay, yes, Drayger the Psychopath had claimed this guy was
innocent, a potential rescuer. But Jason Drayger was also a twisted monster who
couldn’t be trusted.
She yanked her hand away. “Who are you? Where am I?” Her
voice was hoarse, her throat tender from screaming.
“You’re at Underworld General Hospital. And I’m Hawkyn.”
Which told her nothing. But…had he said Underworld
General Hospital?
The door to the room swung open, and a woman in Spongebob
Squarepants scrubs and a lab coat entered.
“Good morning,” she said cheerily, her fuchsia-tipped
brunette pigtails bobbing as she walked. “I’m Doctor Gemella Morgan, but you
can call me Gem.”
Another female followed her inside, a red-skinned demon
female with tiny black horns, her whip-like tail swishing against her legs as
she walked. Holy shit.
Holy. Shit.
Gem glanced at Hawkyn. “Could you give us some privacy?”
He inclined his head and shoved to his feet, his black
leather jacket creaking as he stood. For some reason, Aurora didn’t like the
idea of him leaving. Maybe because, right now, he was the only thing familiar
about any of this, even if their history only went back as far as a dark
parking lot.
“Aurora,” he said in his whiskey-smooth voice, “I have some
other people to check on, but I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded numbly, unsure how to respond. He was a complete stranger. Why would he care about her enough to
come back?
She watched him saunter out of the room, not ashamed in the
least to admire the way his butt looked in his worn jeans. He might be a
stranger, but he was a well put together one. And hey, her ancestors were sex
demons, so admiring male assets was in her nature.
And his assets were spectacular.
As soon as he was gone, the demon put down a tray of food on
the counter and followed him out, leaving her with the doctor.
Gem put her fingers to Aurora’s
wrist. “How are you feeling?” she asked in a humdrum voice as if this was all
perfectly normal.
Aurora had encountered demons before, but few of those
encounters had been pleasant. Seeing them working in a setting as normal as a
hospital, even if it was a bizarre one with black floors, ceiling chains, and
skulls on shelves, left her at a loss for coherent thought.
“I’m feeling like I’m in the Twilight Zone,” she rasped. “Am
I really in an underworld hospital?”
Gem pointed to the stylized caduceus on her jacket and the
“Underworld General Hospital” script beneath it. “Yep. We specialize in pain.”
That sounded a bit ominous. “Relieving it...or giving it?”
“That,” Gem said with a waggle of eyebrows, “depends on the
circumstances.” She gestured to the sheet covering Aurora’s legs. “Mind if I
take a look? The doctor who treated you when you first arrived used a new salve
to regrow your skin and I want to see how it’s coming
along. It only works on people who have at least some human
in their DNA, and it doesn’t work on all demon/human combinations, so we aren’t
sure how complete the heal will be for you.”
“Ah...okay,” Aurora said, having no other real options.
Gem smiled reassuringly. “You can trust me. I’m a doctor.”
“Are you a demon?” That Aurora was asking a doctor
if she was a demon added another layer to the Twilight
Zone sensation.
Gem folded back the sheet to expose Aurora’s legs. “Yes,
ma’am. But I’m also half human, so I promise I won’t eat you.” Aurora stared,
unsure if Gem was being serious or not, and Gem laughed. “That was a joke. I
don’t eat humans. No one at this hospital does.” She paused, looking
thoughtful. “Well, the vampires do, I guess. And sometimes the werewolves have
an accident. But not inside the hospital,” she added quickly. “We’re under an
anti-violence ward.”
Relieved that she wasn’t about to
be eaten, Aurora sank back into her pillow. “This is so bizarre,” she
whispered, mainly to herself, but Gem laughed.
“You act as if you aren’t at least part demon.” Gem looked
up. “I’m guessing you were raised in the human realm?” At Aurora’s nod, Gem
continued. “We weren’t able to determine your species
or identify whether or not you’re a human/demon
crossbreed. Can you help out with that?”
This was so crazy. But these people seemed like they were
trying to help, and Aurora didn’t see any reason to lie about her species. “We
call ourselves Wytches.”
“Like human witches?”
“With a ‘Y’.”
“I see.” The doctor probed Aurora’s wound with her fingers,
but it didn’t hurt at all. “What makes you different from witches with an ‘I’?”
“For one thing, we aren’t entirely human.” For another,
their abilities were part of them, activated by thoughts or single commands
rather than spell books, chants, potions, or charmed objects.
Gem gave her a quizzical look. “Do you know your origins?”
For some sketchy superstitious reasons, Aurora’s people
rarely spoke about their ancient history, preferring to concentrate on their
history since the rebellion that had gained them freedom and life among humans.
Aurora had always thought the reluctance to discuss their origins was
ridiculous, but then, she’d long ago adopted a human lifestyle and left behind
Wytch lore, customs and, especially, mating rituals.
“According to lore,” she said, trying to sound like she
wasn’t mentally rolling her eyes, “we were created when a Charnel Apostle
sorcerer mated male human witches with a breed of succubus that’s now extinct.”
“Huh.” One of Gem’s dark eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “So what kinds of abilities do you possess?”
Startled by a question Wytches considered rude, Aurora
stiffened. “I’m sorry, but I’d like to keep that information to myself.”
Gem smiled, apparently not offended by Aurora’s sharp tone.
“That’s your right, and I absolutely understand. Now, let’s take a closer look
at this leg.”
The doctor approved of the way the wound was healing, but
all Aurora could do when she looked at the mess on her thigh was remember the
pain of the knife and orgasmic gleam in Drayger’s eyes as she bled and
screamed.
“Hey,” Gem said softly, and Aurora realized she was
trembling. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you. I promise.” She
took Aurora’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, but her fingers weren’t
near the area on Aurora’s palm that would allow her to absorb the doctor’s