“He will wake up, Mrs. Golding.”
“I’ve been told it’s a fifty-fifty chance. That he might have…” She sniffs, trying to find composure. “His brain might be affected. He might…he might not be the same.” She walks to the other side of his bed and looks down at Andy. “He looks peaceful. Like he’s sleeping.”
“He is sleeping,” I say.
She nods her head, her eyes welling with tears. “We need for him to wake up. Every day he lies here…” She chokes on her words, pulling in a deep breath which she holds. Then she looks up at me, her eyes watery. “I can feel him drifting further and further away.”
“Don’t say that, Mrs. Golding. Andy is a fighter. Although you can’t see it, he is fighting. I promise you.”
“You’re right.” She nods.
“Don’t give up on him,” I beg her.
“I won’t, but I won’t let him suffer either.” Her face crumples again, and she gives a wailing sob as tears course down her cheeks.
I feel them falling down mine as well. I take Andy’s hand and squeeze. I hear slow, steady beeping. It’s his heart. As long as those beeps sound, there is hope. Andy is strong. I believe in him.
I need to find Lilith. “I will find the person who caused this to happen,” I vow. “I will make her pay.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt, dear,” Mrs. Golding says. “My son wouldn’t want that.”
“I won’t.” I shake my head. “I won’t be able to rest until I’ve fixed this.” I have this irrational feeling inside me that the two are intertwined. That Andy’s recovery hinges on me hunting her down. “Please call me if anything changes. I might have to head out of town.”
Mrs. Golding nods. “I will.”
“I mean it.” I reach over and put my hand over hers. “For anything. If Andy wakes up or if anything changes. If…” I refuse to think about him dying. I can’t handle that thought.
“I will. I promise. You take care of yourself.”
“I will.” I let her go. “Goodbye, old man,” I whisper to Andy. “You have to wake up so that you can tell me, ‘I told you so’,” I add, wiping another tear away. “Please,” I whisper. Then I leave. I’m sure about what I need to do.
Three hours later…
I pull into the motel parking lot. I can tell it’s a rent-by-the-hour establishment by the neon sign on the street advertising it as such. Our line of work doesn’t pay very well. It’s long hours. Days, weeks, sometimes even months away from home. I sometimes wonder why I do it. It’s a calling, I guess. A passion.
I feel tired. Like maybe I’ll be ready to hang up my gun after Lilith. This job will take it out of you. It can destroy you. Then again, I wouldn’t know what else to do with my life. Who else to be. I’m a Seeker. I hunt the creatures of the night. Humans are oblivious. Lucky them. I sometimes wish I hadn’t stumbled into this line of work, but here I am. I’m good at what I do. At least, I thought I was. I used to be able to trust my gut. Now…I’m not so sure. After what happened with Lilith, I’m not sure I will ever be able to trust again. Especially one of them.
I pull the crumpled up note out of my pocket and look at it again. Room 38. I hadn’t forgotten, I just wanted to be sure. This is not the type of establishment where you want to be knocking on random doors.
I lock the car and head over to one of the many doors in a long row. There are nine cars in the lot aside from mine. It is almost lunch hour. It’s that time of day when bosses start banging their secretaries.
I knock on the door. The number has been painted onto the peeling surface of the wall. It takes a few seconds for my boss to answer. I’m not here to bang him. He’s happily married and…I just wouldn’t go there. “Tom,” I say by way of greeting.
“Morgan.” He steps to the side. “Coffee?” he asks once I’m inside.
I look over at the coffee station that also serves as a desk and dressing table. The kettle is yellow from age. There are two coffee cups, one of which is chipped.
I shake my head, trying to hold back a shudder of revulsion. “No, thanks.”
“Take a seat.” He points at a chair. It looks rickety. It’s the only one in the room. Other than that, there’s the bed.
“I’m fine.” I have no plans on staying for longer than what is necessary. There is work to be done.
“How was he?” Tom asks, looking concerned. I know he also visited yesterday, but I answer anyway.
“No change.” I relay the rest of the information.
He nods a couple of times as I talk. “How are you holding up?” he asks.
“I’m fine.” I fold my arms.
“Morgs…” he raises his brows, “don’t lie to me. How are you, really?”
“I’m not lying!” I insist. “I’m ready to get back out there. I’m going to find her and—”
“No!” He shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I’m fine. I’m ready to go back to work.” I was ready days ago.
“You watched your partner die.”
“They brought him back,” I counter. “Andy is going to be fine.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I do!” I insist, trying hard to raise my voice and failing.
“We don’t know that,” he repeats. “He was pulled through the wringer. That rod clipped his artery.”
“I know,” I say. “They stopped the bleed. They performed CPR. They brought him back. He’ll wake up soon, and I want to be able to tell him that I got that bitch.” My hands close into fists.
“Listen to yourself.” Tom is looking me in the eyes. His are blazing. “You’re emotional. Emotions will get you killed every time.”
“You’re right, I’m emotional. I’m angry. I’m sad. I regret that day. I regret my decision to go into that warehouse. I’m seriously emotional, but I plan on using all of that, of channeling it to find her and to kill her.”
“No damned way.” He paces away from me, takes two steps before reaching the wall, and then turns back, hands crammed into his jean pockets. His mind is working. “It’s too dangerous. We can’t lose you as well.”
“As well?” I yell. “What kind of bullshit is that? Have you given up on Andy? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No one has given up on him, but we need to be realistic, Morgan. About Andy. About you. You’re in no shape to be in the field right now. I want to put you in admin for now. You can coordinate the team I’ve assigned to finding the harpy. You will still be involved.”
“Administration?” I can’t believe what he is saying.
“Yes. The work done behind the scenes is just as important as—”
“Who’s lying now?” I throw back at him.
“Careful, Morgan. I know you’ve been through a lot. Too much…but don’t say something you might regret.”
“I can’t do it, Tom. I can’t sit behind a desk day in and day out. I need to be out there.” I point my finger at the door.