Raven's Peak (11 page)

He trailed off, seeing her puzzled expression.

“Attacked?” she said. “No, I don’t believe so. You seemed rather out of it when they brought you in. Delirious and raving.”

“But my apartment…” he said. “The people chasing us . . . ”

“I can assure you, if something like that had happened, we would have heard about it on the news. Where do you live?”

“At the corner of Rochester and Bixby,” he said.

She looked surprised. “Oh.”

Haatim was used to that kind of response when people found out where his apartment was located. Those units weren’t cheap by any means and catered primarily to wealthy individuals with expensive lofts. He didn’t have a huge apartment, but it wasn’t shabby, either, and it was definitely expensive.

But it wasn’t something he paid for. His father footed the bill for his accommodations these last few months. He was furious with Haatim’s decision to return to the States, but he had still rented the apartment for him.

“Well,” the nurse added, finally. “There was certainly nothing on the news about gunshots in
that
neighborhood, and you’re a long way from home.”

“Where is this?”

“Mohave County,” she replied.

That was nowhere near his apartment. It meant he was, at least, a few hours northwest of home. Haatim shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts and make sense of the situation.

Haatim hesitated. “No, that can’t be right. We were being shot at, and we rushed down the stairs and…”

He trailed off again.

“And?” the woman prompted.

“And I was given something to drink, and I blacked out.”

“That’s the last thing you remember?”

“I barely remember it,” he said. “It’s foggy, and I don’t recall anything clearly.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. You were dosed with some pretty heavy sedatives and amphetamines. There’s no telling what you experienced while they were in your system.”

She turned toward the doorway. “Doctor?” she called. A moment later a tall man in a lab coat and blue scrubs strode into the room. She handed him the clipboard, and he walked up to the bed with a small smile. He was gaunt and balding.

“Well, well. Our patient has finally woken up,” the doctor said.

“He’s doing quite a bit better,” the nurse added.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked.

“I…” Haatim said. “I’m OK, I guess.”

“That’s excellent,” the doctor said, making a note on the clipboard. “Most excellent. Do you have any residual effects from the drugs you were administered? Any nausea, dizziness, or lightheadedness?”

“No,” Haatim said. “My head is killing me, but otherwise, I feel fine.”

“How about your stomach? Is it OK?”

“I think so,” he said.

“Then are there any other problems to report?”

“Other than the fact that everything I remember from yesterday is hazy,” Haatim began. “No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s somewhat expected with how many different chemicals were in your bloodstream. They can alter your perceptions dramatically.”

Haatim let out a sigh. “Tell me about it.”

The doctor noted on the clipboard again. “In any case, I think we can discharge you in a few hours. All of our tests came back negative, and I think you’re going to be all right.”

“Good,” Haatim said, lying back on the bed. He felt relaxed and sleepy, and all he wanted to do was take a nap.

He found it hard to believe that he’d simply imagined the events of the previous night. But then again they were pretty outrageous when he actually stopped to think about them. Maybe he’d just been on a really bad psychedelic trip and imagined most of it.

It sounded way more plausible than demon’s being real and hunting him. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it all sounded. He’d been tracking Abigail, and when he caught up with her she’d drugged him to give him the slip.

“Can you sign this here?” the doctor asked, holding out the clipboard and a pen.

“Sure,” Haatim said, reaching out. As he moved his right arm he felt a sudden burst of pain in his shoulder and cried out. He collapsed back on the bed, groaning. “What was that?”

“An injury,” the doctor said. “Something you sustained last night.”

Haatim felt the wound with his right hand. It was bandaged and hurt like hell. He suddenly remembered the door exploding in his apartment and the feeling of the wet blood as shrapnel ripped through his skin. It was vivid and clear and powerful, and it felt very real.

“How did I get it?” he asked.

“We believe you fell down and struck your shoulder against something sharp.”

Something in Haatim’s mind screamed that wasn’t true. He rubbed the injury, trying to piece things together.

“All right,” he said, not entirely convinced.

The doctor gestured with the clipboard again. “Please sign.”

He hesitated. “Do you mind if I sign a little later. After the pain goes away.”

“We can give you some painkillers—”

“No,” he interrupted, “no more drugs. I just need a few minutes to relax and recover.”

The doctor frowned at him for a second and then nodded. He pulled the clipboard back. “Very well. I believe we’ll have to gather some other paperwork for you as well, so we might as well get it all at the same time and spare your shoulder the worst of it. Nurse…?”

“I’ll grab him his lunch while I get the discharge paperwork ready,” the nurse said.

“Very good,” the doctor said.

The nurse stepped out of the room, and he heard her feet clacking down the hall. The echo was loud as it filtered back to them, a lot louder than he could have expected from a hospital hallway.

The doctor turned back to Haatim. “We were able to pump the drugs out of your stomach, but if we knew what in particular you were administered we could do more to stop what’s already in your system. Do you know what it was?”

“No,” he said.

“She didn’t mention anything before giving it to you?”

“She said…” Haatim started then trailed off. “Wait. How did you know it was a ‘she’?”

The doctor blinked. “Lucky guess,” he said. “I think you must have mentioned that it was a woman while you were raving last night.”

Haatim frowned. “She said it was poison.”

“Ah,” the doctor replied, unfazed. “What kind?”

“I don’t know,” Haatim said. “But it wasn’t. You said it was drugs, right?”

“It is most likely a narcotic of some kind,” the doctor said. “But it could have been mixed with something else. Belladonna, maybe.”

“Nightshade?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about Agrimony or Hyssop?”

“I don’t know what those are. You can’t find it in the tests?”

“No,” the doctor said. “And we need to know what it was so we can release you.”

Haatim absently rubbed his arm, shaking his head. It took him a second to realize the skin was smooth; the cut was gone, as was any trace he’d ever had a wound there. “What about the scratch that was here?”

“What scratch?”

“The one on my arm,” Haatim explained. “It’s been there for several days.”

“There was no scratch.”

“Are you sure?” Haatim said. “I remember it from before being drugged. It wouldn’t go away.”

“I’m telling you,” the doctor replied. “There was no scratch.”

The nurse stepped back into the room. She was carrying what looked like a prison tray with disgusting looking food slopped into the various compartments. Just looking at it made Haatim’s stomach turn.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“Nonsense,” the nurse replied, smiling. “You need to get some food into your stomach to help soak up all the bad things. After you eat this, you’ll feel right as rain.”

“No thanks,” he said.

The nurse looked at him, her smile fading, and then set the tray on the bedside table.

“I’ll leave it here, in case you change your mind,” she said. Then she disappeared out of the room, leaving him alone with the doctor once more.

“She’s right, you know,” the doctor said, still scanning his chart and making notes. “You should eat something.”

“I will once I get out of here,” Haatim said, “but I’m just not hungry right now.”

“It’s understandable,” the doctor replied. “Not many people really enjoy hospital food.”

Haatim shrugged, still groggy and hoping to clear his mind. Something felt wrong about the hospital, but he couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was.

“How about I make you a deal,” the doctor said suddenly, still looking at the chart.

Haatim felt the hairs stand up on his neck. “Excuse me?”

“A deal,” the doctor said, finally looking up at him. “I’ll pick you up some food from any restaurant you like, but you have to promise you’ll assist me with a few other matters.”

Haatim felt his pulse quicken. The words sounded innocent enough, but something in his mind was screaming at him that they were wrong. Something about this entire situation was wrong.

“What?” he asked, pretending he didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“What kind of sandwich would you like me to get you? Or maybe a burrito or something else? I can get you whatever you require.”

“I…um…” Haatim stuttered. “Why is it so quiet?”

That was what had been bothering him. It was far too quiet for a hospital. There should have been people talking in the halls, equipment beeping and TVs playing in other patients’ rooms.

Instead, he heard nothing: just silent emptiness.

“What is this?” he asked, sitting up and pulling to the edge of the bed. His body felt sluggish.

The doctor walked casually over and pushed him back down, his expression calm. Then he walked over to a cabinet on the wall and slid it open.

“There is an easy way to do things, Haatim, and a hard way,” the doctor said, pulling out a syringe and bottle. He poked the needle in and started filling it. “And the hard way is considerably more painful.”

Haatim felt a flood of adrenaline and terror. He jumped out of the bed and started running for the exit. Two men appeared in the doorway, blocking his exit. They were the same two who had been chasing him the previous night in the alley. Now, in the hospital lighting, he could see them much more clearly.

The living one had greasy black hair and sallow skin. His eyes looked lifeless, like a doll’s eyes. The other one, though, was what caught Haatim’s attention. The skin of his face was a shade of green, and some of it had sloughed away.

Maggots were crawling in the eye socket and the good one looked dry and dead. The gash on his throat was still there, caked in dry blood with skin hanging loosely on the collar of his coat.

But the smell…that was the worst of it by far. It smelled like Haatim had stepped into a room filled with rotting and burned pork. Flies buzzed around the man, landing unnoticed on his clothes and skin.

Haatim scrambled back, making little panting noises, and bumped against the side of the bed. The doctor appeared next to him and jabbed a needle into his neck.

“This should kick start the effects of the poison and speed up the process. Abigail didn’t give you a very large dose, so it may work its way out of your system on its own. We can complete the ritual once you are recovered.”

Strong hands pushed Haatim back on the bed. He felt the drug starting to work with a burning sensation in his stomach. It built and within seconds had turned into white hot pain. Haatim screamed as agony ripped through his body.

“And if the poison manages to kill you,” the doctor said with a shrug. “Then I’m sure we can still find some use for you.”

Haatim lay on the hospital bed, gasping in agony as heat ripped through his stomach. It seemed like hours had passed since the doctor had injected him, but he rationally knew it had only been minutes. It felt like his insides were being turned into mush.

They hadn’t given him any medication to help dull the pain, only something to keep him docile. He could feel everything; he simply couldn’t react to it.

He wasn’t tied down anymore, but that didn’t matter. The two guards were still in his room, the dead one and the one with sallow skin, but the doctor and nurse were still gone. The two guards stood on opposite sides of his bed, watching him struggle with immutable expressions. He had tried pleading with them to no avail. They were cold, lifeless.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came back into the room, carrying his clipboard. He frowned down at Haatim and looked at the two men.

“No improvement?” he asked

“None,” sallow-skin said.

“A pity,” the doctor replied. “All our efforts will be in vain.”

“Should we finish him off?”

“No. Let the medicine run its course. Once he’s dead we can send his head back to his father. Not the ideal situation, but it is what it is.”

“Why…?” Haatim gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

The doctor looked at him. “I’m not doing anything. Your friend poisoned you. I’m simply helping the process along. Unfortunately, it seems that the dose you received
will
prove fatal.”

“Please…a hospital…”

“This
is
a hospital,” the doctor said, gesturing his arms at the room around them. “Or, at least as close to a hospital as you will get before you expire.”

Haatim groaned in pain.

“What?” the doctor said. “You feel let down by the situation? I feel worse. All of my work these past months will have been for naught.”

“I know, right?” a voice called from the doorway.

Everyone froze, and slowly they all turned to look at the doorway. Even Haatim managed to cock his head far enough to get a decent view.

Abigail was leaning casually against the door frame, arms folded and a smirk on her face. “You think you found the
perfect
vessel to bring your dark lord back from hell, but it just never works out, does it?”

“You!” the doctor said, dropping the clipboard.

“Me?” she asked innocently. “Relax Christoph, if you brought your lord back here now I would just have to kill him again.”

The doctor—Christoph—charged forward with a yell. Abigail exploded into motion, dropping into a crouch and quick-stepping forward to confront him. The two bodyguards were right behind Christoph, entering the fray only seconds later.