Race the Darkness (Fatal Dreams, #1)(17)
“Baby, you’ve been here with me. You’ve been sleeping a lot over the past days, pretty out of it. Then ten minutes ago, you got out of bed and walked down the hallway to this waiting room. I followed you. Put this blanket over you.” He tugged the ends tighter across her front. “You were… You were all lights-are-on-but-no-one-is-home. And then you just snapped out of it.”
Isleen had started shaking her head halfway through his speech. “Just now, I was at Prospectus Prairie Park. A woman was jogging, and a man crawled out of a culvert and stabbed her over and over. He wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t move. I tried.” Her chin trembled, and her face scrunched into a grimace. “My head…” She grabbed her forehead with both of her hands. Her face went from hale and hearty to gray. “I don’t fee…” Her eyes rolled back, her legs folded, and she collapsed. Xander caught her before she met the floor and swung her way-too-bony body up into his arms.
Kent was beyond useless. He stared at his phone as if the next winning Powerball numbers were being revealed to him.
“Nurse! I need a nurse!” Xander yelled as he jogged back down the hallway to Isleen’s room.
“What happened?” The nurse assigned to Isleen rushed after him, huffing and wheezing as if she were running a marathon.
“She was up, walking around. Talking. Said her head hurt and then passed out.” Xander settled Isleen into her bed.
You’re so sweet, the way you haven’t left her all this time. Wish my Kelly could find someone as devoted. I bet she’d even be able to overlook your face if you treated her half as good as you’re treating this girl.
Xander held his breath while the nurse took Isleen’s blood pressure, listened to her pulse, and checked her pupils. “Everything seems normal. If she doesn’t wake up in a few minutes, let me know and I’ll call the doctor.”
As if waiting for the cue, Isleen’s eyes fluttered open and locked on Xander again.
“Baby, you okay?” he asked.
“I’m so cold and…” Her teeth chattered and a rash of goose bumps sprang out across her flesh, reaching up her neck and around the edges of her face. Damn. He didn’t know goose bumps could do that. “And tired. I’m so tired.”
“Here. You’ll warm up in a moment.” The nurse placed another blanket over Isleen. “You need to take things a little slower. Now, if you need anything else, you let me know. It’s nice seeing you talking.” The nurse rubbed Isleen’s leg and then left the room, brushing by Kent, who was leaning against the doorjamb.
“Dude. We need to talk. Now.” Kent’s tone grabbed Xander’s attention. The guy pointed to his cell phone.
No way was Xander going to leave Isleen. He glanced down at her. She had already drifted off.
“This can’t wait.” Kent’s tone crossed the border from demanding into confrontational territory.
Great. Isleen didn’t need to witness him and Kent going at it—and that’s what was about to happen. He gave Isleen a final glance, then walked out of her room, heading toward the waiting area they’d just left.
The pain slammed into his head so unexpectedly that he gasped and grabbed his temple. All the noises he hadn’t noticed only moments before traffic-jammed inside his ears. What was going on with his hearing? All this time, days sitting at Isleen’s bedside, the sounds hadn’t bugged him as much as they did right now. Isleen was the key to a door he hadn’t known existed.
He’s hiding something. Or protecting her. Something is going on.
Inside the still-empty waiting room, Xander pivoted to face Kent. “I don’t know what’s got your big boys in a twist, but—”
“This.” Kent shoved his phone in front of Xander’s face. “I just got this message from one of the local guys.”
Officer Decker: Female vic. Mid-twenties. Stabbed to death. Prospectus Prairie Park. Since you’re in the neighborhood, you boys want in on this?
Chapter 6
Sunshine peeked through the closed blinds of the Dragon’s hospital room, casting a divine golden glow around the space—a sign of the Lord’s approval. But still, dread weighed heavily on King’s shoulders, making each footstep to the bed a burden. He fingered the gold cross in his pants pocket, rubbing his thumb over the warm metal.
Chosen One’s words came to him: It is much the same for all who’ve been asked to complete such a task. We are here but to serve the Lord, not to question.
“Lord, wrap me in your grace, protect me with your virtue, grant me your strength.” King spoke the words at near-normal volume. Verbalizations carried more power than silent prayer. Though he’d dictated every moment of the Dragon’s captivity, he hadn’t actually seen her since he’d taken her—couldn’t risk falling victim to her devilry. Only Queen—may his sister’s soul be resting with the Lord—had been immune.
King remembered how the Dragon had looked back then, all platinum hair and big, baby-doll eyes too beautiful to be normal.
He stared down at the frail figure in the bed. Even now, her features carried a beguiling innocence. He could never allow himself to forget what he’d been taught: True evil never came with a warning; it masqueraded as beauty and grace.
“Why didn’t you just die?” It had been his responsibility to eliminate the Dragon, but he’d been weak in his faith. So weak. He hadn’t been able to bear the idea of murder. And if the Lord commanded thou shalt not kill, how was King to reconcile that with the Lord ordering him to kill? That paradox had been an infinite source of anguish. He’d spent days on his knees, praying—begging—for an answer, but the Lord had always remained silent, further testing King’s faith.