I scowl at her, too, but she just ignores me, and even though she’s short and slight, she looks like she means business, so I lie back and let her fuss around me. She brings me a cup of hot coffee and a cheese sandwich, and I sip the coffee and wolf the sandwich, hugging the warm compresses as, slowly, my temperature creeps back up.
It takes a couple of hours. In the meantime, another of my best friends, Rob, turns up with some dry clothes, a Big Mac and large fries in a paper bag, and a soda, declaring that Alex requested he bring them.
“I could kiss you,” I declare, opening the burger and eating half of it in one bite.
“Only if you marry me first.” Rob pulls up a chair and sits, giving a short laugh as I stuff the other half of the burger in my mouth. “Worked up an appetite, did you?”
“You have no idea.” I take a long drink of the soda and sigh, then smile at him. Rob is mid-twenties, same as me, tall with dark hair, and mild-mannered. He’s a talented shaman, but although he helps out at the Crux a lot, and he could have worked there full time, he chose to train as a firefighter. Many of the Hunters work in the emergency services. I think helping people runs in the blood, along with the shamanic power.
Despite Damien’s insistence that I keep it a secret, I tell Rob about Persephone and what happened at the river.
He leans back in the chair and surveys me with a frown. “Did Damien say you shouldn’t have rescued her?”
“Not in so many words. Just that it obviously creates a problem.” I shift on the bed, uncomfortable with the thought that I’ve put someone else in danger. “I couldn’t just let her die.”
“Of course you couldn’t. I don’t believe it can be the case that every time we save a life, someone has to die. That makes no sense.”
“But we know everything is about balance.” I shiver.
“You still cold?” he asks.
“No.” I don’t like to add that my chill goes too deep to be warmed by a couple of blankets and a cup of hot coffee, but I think he understands. “Damien said he thought we might be able to do something to stop it happening.”
“I’ll talk to Alex about it,” he says. “And we’ll run some checks on her friends and family. If we can stop it, we will.”
The doctor comes in, does a final exam, and says I’m fine to go. I pull on the underwear, jeans, and sweater, and the dry pair of trainers Rob also brought, relieved to be out of the gown.
Rob looks over his shoulder, making sure we’re not overheard. “Where is she?”
“Don’t know. I’m going to find her now.”
“Damien said you should keep your distance.”
“Yeah, well. I’m just going to check on her, that’s all.”
We go out of the ward, and I show my badge to the receptionist and ask where Persephone is. She directs me up a floor, where I talk to another nurse. She tells me they’re giving her intravenous warm fluids and replacing the compresses on a regular basis, and they’ve given her something to help her sleep, but that she’s going to be okay, and they’ll probably move her to the ward tomorrow morning.
I haven’t shown this nurse my badge, but she says, “Are you family?” Rob glances at me. I nod, so she shows us to a room.
We go in and stand by the side of the bed. Persephone’s lying on her back. Her brown hair is spread across the pillow. Her face is pale. She doesn’t look unlike how she looked on the riverbank. But her chest rises and falls. She’s alive.
I place a hand gently on her shoulder, say a short prayer, and send her some healing. She stirs, but she doesn’t wake. I study her face, the curve of her lips. I touched mine to hers as I blew air into her lungs. She’s so beautiful. I want to kiss her again, properly this time.
“Uh-oh,” Rob says.
I tear my glance away from her and look at him. He’s watching me, eyebrows raised. “What?”
“I can see why Damien said you shouldn’t visit her.”
I open my mouth to reply, but at that moment the nurse returns, and this time she has someone else with her. A slender, wiry guy, incredibly good-looking, with icy blue eyes and short black hair.
The guy comes into the room. Rob backs away to the door. I stay put.
“Who are you?” the guy demands.
I take my badge out of my pocket and speak quietly, so I don’t wake Persephone. “Detective Sergeant Macbeth. I’m the officer who pulled her out of the river.”
The guy stares at me. His gaze scans down me, then returns to my face. I wish I was wearing my uniform.
“Thank you,” he says. The words come out of his mouth with great effort, as if he’s forcing an apple through a tennis racket.
This is Persephone’s boyfriend? I bristle at the thought of this idiot being in the same county as her, let alone the same room.
“Please,” the nurse says, possibly picking up on my tension. “There should only be one person in here at a time.”
The guy scowls at me. Clearly, he doesn’t like me being here, and for some reason he doesn’t like the fact that I rescued his girlfriend. That’s fine. I don’t like him, either.
I don’t want to leave her. I feel an incredibly strong urge to stay and protect her.
“Mac,” Rob murmurs.
I hesitate. But the nurse is frowning, and I know if I stay there’s only going to be trouble.
“I’ll go,” I tell her. “I’ll come back later.”
“No need,” the guy says. “I can inform the police station when she’s awake.”
I glance at Rob. He gives a small shake of his head. I think of Damien’s warning, and look at the floor for a moment, fighting with my instincts that scream at me to throw the other guy out.
Then, without another word, I walk out of the room.
Chapter Three
Persephone
The world is full of light and shadows. Pain infiltrates the darkness, sharp and sinister, and I dance on hot coals, surrounded by flames that make my skin bubble and burn. I see faces—my parents, my friends, the man who rescued me, my grandparents, long gone. Tia, Jude.
Who is real, and who is in my imagination? Eyes stare at me, then spread like drops of paint in oil, turning into a vast, gaping hole that is going to consume me. I scream.
Hands hold me down, and I try to twist out of them. I want to run—away from them, from the horror of drowning, from my life. I don’t want to return to it. I was unhappy, and I don’t want to be unhappy anymore. I just want it to be over.
My heart bangs like a drum in my ears, and panic fills me.
“Steady,” says the man who rescued me, in his low, calm voice. “Breathe in, and out. Nice and slow.”
I let the air fill my lungs—nice, clean, dry air, and exhale softly. Even though I might have wished otherwise, I’m alive.
The song thrush sings, although I don’t know if it’s in the Grove or in the real world.
I close my eyes and let sleep take me once more.
*
An indeterminate amount of time later, my eyes flutter open.
For a moment I think I really am in the Higher Realms this time. Everything is white. White sheets, white floor, white walls, white curtains. The light coming through the window is blinding, bright and clean, like sunshine bouncing off metal. It makes me blink, and my eyes water.