Sky Ghosts: All for One (Young Adult Urban Fantasy Adventure) (Sky Ghosts Series Book 1) (32 page)

As they made their way through the corridor of astonished faces, Chad could feel every single gaze on him. But most of all, he could see how they stared at Pain in her ragged gear, with her face streaked with tears. They all were talking at once, muttering, questioning: What happened? Is he dead? Is it his blood? He saw someone nudge his comrade and mutter, “So she can cry, after all,” and had to hold back the overwhelming urge to jump on him and tear his head off. He gave the Ghost a blazing glare, but he wasn’t looking at him.

The infirmary door was already open a few steps away, and they picked up their pace, seeing it. A figure hovered by the opening in the wall – Doc, he guessed before he could really see him. Up close he saw that Doc was a little taller than him, had dark hair shaved close to his scalp, and looked about thirty years old. His sharp, predatory features were strangely softened by his dark-brown eyes that seemed to hold a lifetime of sadness in them.

“To the far wall, there’s a free bed,” he instructed them as they crowded in the doorway.

The room was wide, with high ceilings, just like the floor itself. There were rows and rows of hospital beds, and they all were taken. Nurses scurried from one to another, their young faces stressed, their white coats blotched with blood. There were two rows of chairs, too, and most of them were occupied. More staring eyes as Ryan pulled him to an empty bed in the corner, and Chad tried not to look at the wounded, but it was difficult. The white lights were sobering, and under their hot blaze he suddenly felt more focused; or maybe it was the smell of bleach that cleared his head at once.

They lowered Marco onto the bed carefully, and without thinking, Chad glanced down at his sweater. It was soaked through with blood, an ugly vinous stain all over his left side, and instantly he wished he didn’t do it. As Doc approached the bed, he stepped back to make room for him and the sisters.

“What happened?” Doc asked, putting on his glasses and placing two fingers on Marco’s throat.

“I’m not sure, but it looked like he was stabbed in his side, and his head is wounded, too,” Pain said in an uneven voice. “When I found him, he was still breathing, but then he stopped. He started breathing again after a couple of- ”

“She made him do that,” Chad interrupted.

“What?? Shut up,” she snapped.

“Who’s that?” Doc asked, not looking at any of them, his voice distracted once he got to see Marco’s wounds.

“Nobody, forget him,” Pain said, shoving Chad behind her back.

He rolled his eyes, but found her hand and laced his fingers through hers, unable to stand so close and not touch her. She seemed to be too distracted to pull away.

“There was blood around his head, and I think I broke his rib,” her voice broke on the last word, and with her free hand, she grabbed Marco’s forearm.

“Hardly the first time…” Doc murmured as he examined Marco’s head, turning it carefully and palpating it with his gloved fingers.

Black patterns of tattoos showed through the rubber, and Chad couldn’t tear his eyes off them. A nurse came to his side, carrying scissors. She cut Marco’s shirt and tore it away from the wound. Finally, Doc grunted.

“But his head is alright,” he said.

Pain stared at him blankly.

“What??”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Doc switched his attention to the real wound. “There’s a big hole in his side, but it’s not deep and the internal organs probably weren’t harmed. It has already closed up a little. He might have learned how to heal himself, finally,” Doc gave the sisters a half-smile. “We still have some tests to do, but I hope he’ll be alright.”

“But…” Pain was astonished. All the emotions along with all her strength seemed to have drained from her, just like before, when she thought Marco was dead. “There was blood around his head, so much of it…”

“Then it wasn’t his blood,” he cut her off. “We have enough of his type here. Go have some coffee. I don’t have time to deal with fainting right now, and you look really pale.” He smiled wryly and hurried them all out.

Mechanically, she turned and stepped in the exit direction, but her knees just buckled under her. The ground shifted, and then Chad was at her side, his arm coming around her and holding her tightly against him. It was oddly comforting at the moment. This way she got to walk out of the infirmary on her own so the others wouldn’t see how bad she really was. Chad didn’t attempt to take her in his arms, and she was grateful for that, sagging against him and letting him drag her to the door and out of it. Everything was spinning before her eyes – the white lamps of the infirmary, chairs, Ghosts, gazing at them and muttering to each other. Words, words, words, there were so many, and they made it so hard for her to stay there.

By the time they reached the row of chairs outside the infirmary, her eyes were gazing into space. For a moment Chad got scared for her: could it be okay that she looked so pale, so lifeless? Or was it some kind of a severe shock that needed to be dealt with? She lost a lot of energy in that room, could she have lost
too much
…?

He made himself take a deep breath. Everything was going to be alright, and she just needed some rest. With wooden fingers, he unbuckled the straps of her back sheath and took off the katana, putting it on a chair. His other hand supported her as she stood numbly and stared somewhere at his chest. He sank into a chair and pulled her into his lap, feeling the skin under her disfigured gear, cool and rough under his fingers.
So many
– he looked down at the cuts that covered her side, back, and thigh, and stifled down a wave of bitterness that threatened to roll on him once again. The skin under the tattered cloth had healed mostly, but there were still lots of red marks, scars, and bruises. He hugged her closer and felt her lean against his chest. She was covered from curious eyes with his arm, and there was no point in fighting it anymore. No one besides him could know that she was crying, quiet and freely, with her back shuddering under his hand as he rubbed it, careful not to touch any of the scratches.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright now,” he whispered, pressing his stubbly chin to her head.

There was a shaking intake of breath against his collarbone, and he slid his left hand over her back, tightening his hold on her, his cheek pressed against her forehead. The sobs were weaker now, the shuddering almost gone. He rocked her in his lap, trying to get rid of the thought that it was just like she did with Marco before, dead, not breathing.
She’s going to be okay, she’s going to be okay,
he repeated in his mind, but even his inner voice sounded strained and panicked.

Jane stood over him, gazing at Pain with wide worried eyes. Her condition was not unlike her sister, though she didn’t see what happened in that room. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked at it absently. Ryan was close behind her, and she turned and raised her eyes to glance at him. Something glimpsed in his expression, something strong and sad – compassion? Ache? She wasn’t sure. He showed his emotions so rarely, and it was gone in a moment. But he definitely looked shaken, watching Pain and Chad from above.

His gaze flicked to Jane’s face.

“Crazy night.” He shook his head once. “She’s just worried too much. She’ll be okay,” he said in a low voice. “We should go get some coffee.”

Jane only nodded, letting him walk her to the far corner, his arm around her shoulders. Chad watched them go, and then he glimpsed the familiar leather jacket across the room.

“There you are!” Dave exclaimed, nearing him and Pain.

“Shh!” Chad silenced him. He opened his arms a little, showing Pain under them.

Dave’s eyebrows shot up.

“What happened??” Dave whispered in astonishment, taking a seat by his side.

“We’ve found Marco. He almost died up there. It’s a long story, can I tell it later?”

“No, I want it right now,” Dave said, shaking his head.

“Thanks,” Chad responded with sarcasm and leaned his head against the wall with a sigh.

In a minute Jane and Ryan returned to them, bringing four cups of coffee. Chad peeked under his arms, but Pain seemed to be asleep. He shook his head slightly, and Jane offered the cup to Dave, who took it with a shrug and sprawled more comfortably in his chair. As soon as the strong smell of coffee reached Chad’s nose, he realized he couldn’t drink or eat anything. So he put it on a chair next to him and brought his hand back to its place on Pain’s shoulder. Her gear was cold to the touch, and he suddenly remembered his dream about her dying in his arms and shuddered, hugging her closer. It was just a stupid dream, he told himself.
Everyone’s going to be fine…

*

An hour or so later they were still sitting at the same place. Pain was curled up in Chad’s lap, breathing softly and steadily against his skin. He was drifting in and out of sleep, his mind foggy and too exhausted to stay awake. It was about two after midnight, and Jane was napping beside him, propped up against Ryan’s shoulder. He looked really uncomfortable, Chad thought. With those long legs and back, he perched on his chair like a circus lion on a pedestal. He didn’t seem to mind, though, because he never left Jane’s side from the moment they brought Marco to the infirmary. Chad wasn’t that comfortable himself, but he was too tired to care about it. Besides, he didn’t dare to move, afraid that he might wake up Pain, enclosed in his arms.
And then she would leave,
the thought echoed in his mind against his will, making him grunt inwardly. Dave had left earlier, following Skull somewhere. He seemed to be too agitated to sleep, and hadn’t really told them where they were going.

There were no attacks since the first battle, but the Beasts were still gathered around the building. Every Ghost that had lived through it had come – or had been brought – down and was taken care of in the infirmary. A few dozen of them were able to walk, so they crowded around the vending machines with cups of coffee, talking to each other in muffled voices. Those who were wounded sat in chairs dozing or healing, their arms, legs, heads bandaged, their faces pale and haggard. The rest were in the infirmary, under the treatment of Doc and the nurses.

Chad was awakened again by the voices of fighters talking about Doc not far from him. There were five of them, and they were young, no more than his age. At the moment one of them was telling the others the story about how Doc became their staff doctor.

“No-no, listen. I heard he was a brutal fighter in his twenties. Before that, he planned to be a surgeon, but was thrown out of the University for mouthing off to some professor. And he had a best friend who was working for Michael already, so Doc decided to join him and became his partner. They’d worked together for five years, and one night, his friend was killed by a group of Beasts while heading home alone. They say Doc then hunted down every one of that group and tortured them and shredded them to pieces. That was when he also got those weird tattoos. After that, he told Michael he didn’t want to fight anymore, and Michael offered him to work in the infirmary.”

“And who told you that?” one of the others asked, doubt clear in his voice.

“Luke, that’s who,” the first one snapped back.

“Oh, Luke wouldn’t make up stories like that,” the other responded with respect.

“But he’s still practicing. I saw him once in the training hall, and he totally freaked me out,” the third young man put in. “He fights like an animal. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that at night, when nobody watches him, he goes out and slays Beasts, one by one, whoever gets in his way or something like that. He’s a total maniac, if you ask me.”

“Huh. Who was his sparring partner?”

“Rob,” he answered, and the others nodded respectfully, “and Brad,” he added.

“Both of them??”

“Yeah. Can you imagine that? And they sweated like hell under his attack.”

“Wish I could see him versus Skull or the sisters, just imagine that…”

They continued their conversation in murmuring voices. Chad stopped listening with a heavy sigh, playing absently with Pain’s hair that fell over his hand. The art of killing was the most valuable here, and she was one of the best artists. She was
lethal
, as Jerry had said. Only now she was broken.

A blazing light blinded him when the infirmary door slid to the side. Chad squinted and turned away. A pulse of excitement was replaced by a stab of disappointment: it was over, their relatively peaceful and quiet part of the night. Jane and Ryan stirred at his side, waking up and squinting at the light, too. A dark figure stood in the doorway, tall and lean – Doc. He let out a weary sigh, pulling off his gloves and tossing them to a bin in the corner, and it meant his work on Marco and the others was done.

Chad lifted his arm and squeezed Pain’s shoulder lightly.

“Hey, Doc is here,” he said into her ear. She stirred at the sound of his voice, and he stroked her head, hoping that she would wake up before he would be eaten up by Doc’s curious gaze. He could feel it on himself even without looking. “Wake up,” he whispered and felt her draw a deep breath as she sat upright and blinked, frowning.

“How is he?” she mumbled, turning to look at Doc.

“Stabilized. He’ll be alright,” he answered and shrugged off his white coat, staying in black jeans and a dark-gray tee. He hung the coat on a peg and stepped out of the infirmary.