Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FITZ
Fitz had stood watch in a number of uncomfortable and dangerous situations, but nothing had quite prepared him for the unique torture of taking up a sentry position on the side street just outside a bakery.
The tempting smell of fresh bread and pastries was nearly enough to drive him mad, and it was only the thought that he might miss something that kept him outside.
He leaned against the brick wall, keeping an eye on the hospital across the street, and nodded at passersby, doing his best to remain innocuous.
His towering frame meant that he could hardly hope to go unnoticed, but he aimed to appear a casual observer rather than a suspicious lurker.
At the very least, he hoped that no one stopped long enough to get a closer look at the metal hand and leg that were mostly—but not quite—hidden by his borrowed coat.
A crow cawed twice before landing on the streetlamp in front of him.
“What are you doing here?”
The bird cocked its head back and forth. “Good Raven.”
“You’re worried about her, too? It’s only been a few hours; I’m sure she’s fine.” Fitz offered a tight smile to a couple as they exited the bakery, eyeing him warily.
I suppose talking to birds isn’t going to help maintain the harmless image.
Raven ruffled his wings and cawed again.
Fitz turned his attention back to the front doors that Darby had entered nearly two hours before.
Despite her assurances that she would be fine, he couldn’t shake the deep sense of misgiving that had formed in the pit of his stomach the moment she had left his sight.
Her last two brushes with death had set his protective nature on edge, and he found it difficult to stand idly by while she went about her day as if nothing had happened.
She said it’s unlikely that Lacey would try anything with so many people around, but a hospital is full of any number of things that could be used as weapons, and it wouldn’t even be hard to frame it as an accident.
All she would need is a reason to get Darby alone in some dark corner or empty room, and Darby has such a caring, trusting heart that she would go in a heartbeat if she really thought that one of the patients needed her.
Something sharp suddenly pinched his ear, startling him from his grim thoughts. He yelped and swatted his hand at his ear, sending Raven tumbling to the ground in front of him.
“What was that for?” He glared down at the bird.
Raven squawked angrily at him and flew back up to his shoulder. He knocked his head against Fitz’s cheek, turning it in the direction of the corner across the street where a man, tall and thin with salt and pepper hair, was just rounding the side of the building and disappearing from sight.
He rubbed at the stinging spot on his ear. “Maybe next time just use your words.”
“Is that your bird?”
The tiny voice made him jump, and he spun quickly to find a small boy, no more than five or six, gripping a pastry in front of him with both hands and looking up at him with wide, curious eyes.
His clothes, though clean, had patches in several places and his pants were at least two inches too short for his legs.
His tousled blonde hair stuck up in the back, like he had rolled out of bed and gone outside without letting a comb touch it.
“He belongs to a friend of mine.” Fitz looked around carefully for any sign of the child’s mother.
“What’s his name?”
“Raven.”
The boy looked at him as if he had grown another head. “But he’s a crow.”
Fitz chuckled. “That’s what I said.”
“Does he really talk?” The boy took a step closer.
“What do you mean?”
“You told him to use his words.”
“Ah. He talks when he wants to, but it’s not the same as you or I. He can only copy.” Fitz craned his neck to get a better view of the entire street. “Where’s your mother?”
“She’s inside.” He held up his pastry. “Does Raven want some?”
Raven, as if understanding the child perfectly, flew down the ground at his feet. “It’s mine.”
The boy giggled. “It’s not, but I’ll share it with you.” He tore off a piece and threw it to the crow, who immediately plucked it from the pavement. “My name is Simon.”
“It’s mine.” Raven hopped closer to his feet, looking for more.
“Be careful there, Simon. I think you might have created a monster.” Fitz smiled as Simon, delighted by Raven’s reaction, tossed him another piece of bread.
Simon grinned brightly up at him, then his gaze zeroed in on Fitz’s hand. He gasped.
Fitz’s smile fell.
Simon’s whisper was full of awe. “How strong is your hand?”
His brain disconnected for a moment. “How…what?”
The boy, his new bird friend for the moment forgotten, leaned forward to get a better view of Darby’s handiwork. “I bet it could punch through a wall. Can you punch through a wall?”
Fitz coughed in surprise. “I’ve never tried.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” Simon nodded seriously. “A roof and four walls is nothing to take for granted, is what my mama says. You shouldn’t just punch them.” His eyes dropped back to Fitz’s hand, and he added in a whisper, “But I bet you could.”
“Simon!” A young, harried woman rushed down the steps of the bakery.
“Mama!” Simon called over his shoulder. “Come see this man’s hand!”
Fitz could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he braced himself for the inevitable scream that would accompany her notice of his metal limbs.
But it never came.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” The woman grabbed Simon’s arm and pulled him back a few steps. She hissed at her son through her teeth, “Simon! What have I told you before about bothering strangers?”
“But Mama, he had a talking bird! And look at his hand.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, looking at Fitz with evident mortification. “I asked him to wait outside while I asked the owner about a job, but I didn’t realize he would be in anyone’s way.”
“He wasn’t a bother,” Fitz hastened to reply, feeling the need to set some of her worries at rest. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, and her expression was tight and pinched.
Combined with the worn, frayed edges of her dress and the fact that she was asking about work, it was evident that she had more to worry about than her son’s manners.
“He was kind enough to share some of his snack with my feathered friend.” He gestured to Raven, who once again had taken up a position on the streetlamp.
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, and she held out her hand. “I’m Mary.”
He shook her hand, thankful that the blast had taken his left hand, not his right. “Fitz Monstrego.”
Her eyes glanced over him, hovering a moment longer on his metal limbs before returning to his face. “Former military?”
His brow wrinkled. “How did you know?”
“My late husband was a soldier.” A sad smile stretched across her face. “You have a way of carrying yourselves.” She nodded toward his hand. “I’m glad they found a way to help you. John wasn’t so lucky.”
Fitz just nodded mutely, unsure of what to say.
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mister Monstrego. Thank you for your patience.” Mary turned and began pulling Simon along behind her.
He opened his mouth to call after her when a large, booming explosion rattled the street.
He instinctively threw himself in front of Mary and Simon, bringing all of them to the ground.
His chest ached as his heart hammered with adrenaline, and it took his mind a moment to remember where he was. Simon looked up at him with wide eyes.
“What was that?”
The smell of smoke hit his nose, and screaming from across the street met his ears. Fitz leaped to his feet, moving faster than he had thought possible with his artificial limbs.
The hospital! Darby!
He sprinted down the street as fast as he could with his uneven gait.
Pain shot through his chest as his heart hammered against his ribs at the sudden demand on its abilities, and Fitz was forced to slow himself to a fast walk.
People were already starting to stream from the hospital’s side doors, mingling with the crowds of people spilling from businesses and homes in the neighborhood to see what all the commotion was about.
Fitz, making use of his height, searched the ever-growing throng for a familiar shade of red hair.
Please, Deus, please! I don’t want to lose her.
His panic became a living, breathing thing as his search came up empty, and he could barely hear the church bells over the ringing in his ears. He pushed through the mass of people towards a door on the side of the surgical wing.
If she was in the building, she would have been in there.
“Hold on a minute, sir!” A hand on his arm stopped him, and he looked down into the bewhiskered face of a man in a fire brigade uniform. “We can’t let you go in there.”
He shook his head. “She’s still in there.”
I can’t lose her. I can’t.
Short as their time together had been, Fitz already knew he would never in his lifetime meet another woman like Darby.
She had worn him down with her relentless positivity, and slowly but surely began to set up camp in his heart.
She was passionate and driven in a way that entranced him, and already he could see the ways that she pushed him to be a better version of himself.
Even when he believed that version was a monster half-made of metal.
“I’m sorry. No civilians can pass the fire lines.”
With a growl of frustration, he turned away, intent on finding another way inside.
“Dr. Shelton! Dr. LeBlanc!”
The words had his head whipping back towards the front door. His breath left him in a sigh of relief as he caught sight of Darby, letting a pale-faced and clearly injured Lacey off her back. Even after the incident with the cyanide, she was still too noble to leave her coworker behind.
That’s my girl.
His relief quickly turned to apprehension when Darby, after speaking to a young man on a pair of crutches, looked over her shoulder and started running back, clearing favoring one of her legs. She disappeared into the smoke.
“Darby! Stop! What are you doing?” His voice was choked with panic.
She either ignored or didn’t hear him. He pushed his way to Lacey and the young man. “Where is she going?” he demanded sharply.
The young man’s eyes widened with fear as he took in Fitz’s imposing form. “She’s looking for Merry. He didn’t come out with the others.”
“George!” As if summoned, Merry’s sweaty, dirt-streaked face appeared from the other side. “What’s going on?”
George’s face went pale, and he looked from Fitz to Merry and back again. He took a step back, nearly tripping over the end of his crutches. “Where were you?”
“One of the hall doors blew shut and locked from the other side, and I had to go the long way out.” Merry did a double-take as his eyes landed on Fitz. “Captain Monstrego!”
But Fitz was already moving toward the front doors. “Where would she go?”
George and Merry both looked at him in confusion, and it was Lacey who answered. “We were outside the surgery.”
He nodded and ran, following in Darby’s footsteps and ignoring the cries of protest from the fire brigade.
The smoke was hot and thick as he stepped over the threshold, and his eyes and lungs immediately started burning.
He shuffled forward, using his metal hand to feel his way along as he tried to recall everything Darby had told him during their brief tour of the hospital.
The air grew hotter the closer he got to the surgical wing, and the transfer of heat from his metal limbs to the newly-healed flesh around them was starting to become painful. He turned down a hallway that led further into the building, away from the fire, desperate for relief.
“Darby!” His voice was hoarse, choked with smoke and fear.
The crash of something metal sounded from somewhere near, and he rushed forward, throwing open every door as he passed.
“Darby!”
Every room was empty, the signs of a hasty exit evident in the disarray of strewn supplies and half-eaten trays at bedsides.
Fitz was beginning to think that what he heard was just a coincidence, when a flash of blue on the floor of the last empty room caught his eye.
He lunged forward, scooping the fabric from the floor. His gut churned as he held it up.
It was Darby’s medical coat.