Читаем White Witch, Black Curse полностью

I tried to smile, but I was trembling inside. Fatigue pulled at me, and memories of my early years in and out of hospitals came flooding back. "I don't even know what happened," I complained. "I mean, I remember up to blacking out, but after that? Pfft."

Marshal sat on the edge of the bed again, as if I might try to get up. "No doubt. A banshee, Rachel? What were you thinking? You're lucky to be alive."

My right shoulder lifted and fell. Who else had a chance to catch her? Edden had probably checked me in. Maybe that was why I was on a human floor. I could lie in bed at home for a lot less money. David was going to be ticked when my insurance went up.

Remembering Marshal, I sighed. "Yep. A banshee. And her kid. And her homicidal husband. At the mall, no less."

He smiled, one almost of pride. "You made the news knocking over that reporter."

My eyes flicked to his and I winced. "They got it on tape?"

Leaning forward, he tucked a stray curl behind my ear, making me shiver when my thoughts went to Kisten's boat. "Knocked her right on her can," he said, oblivious. "It was good seeing you in action like that. Again."

His smile faded, and I realized this was twice now he had seen me on the news; the first time, I'd been cuffed. "Um, thanks for coming to see me," I said, sensing a growing awkwardness, as if he had stepped past our agreed-on boundaries.

Smile gone, he leaned back. He looked everywhere but at me. "Tried the pudding yet?"

"No, but I doubt it's changed since I was here last."

He chuckled, and I tried to decide if I was willing to risk taking the catheter out by myself. The one time I had, I'd hurt myself more than one would believe possible. I didn't want to stay here, and if my vitals were normal, they wouldn't keep me for simple fatigue.

The sound of Jenks returning drifted into the uncomfortable silence between Marshal and me, and we exchanged knowing smiles. Jenks was like a little kid you could hear long before you could see him. His voice was high as he talked to someone whose voice was a dull murmur, and they were moving slowly. Ivy maybe?

My pulse increased and Marshal stood when the thick oversize door creaked open. He looked nervous, and I didn't wonder why. Ivy didn't like him, and she took few pains to hide it.

"Hey!" Jenks shouted loudly as he circled the room three times. "Look who I found!"

I found myself smiling; not only was it Ivy, but Glenn, too, moving slowly and supported between Ivy and the IV stand. The black man looked awful, and it wasn't just from the hospital gown. Still, I met him grin for grin when he looked up from the floor, clearly pleased to be functioning even on this reduced level. His face was an ugly purple in places, and his hand gripping Ivy's arm was swollen, the cuts covered with stark-white bandages. "Hi, Rachel," he breathed, then focused on the tile and moving forward.

Marshal nodded his hello to Ivy, and after nudging the tomato behind the flowers before Glenn spotted it, he moved to the distant couch, built into the wall under the window, so the ailing FIB agent could have the closer chair. Oddly enough, Ivy looked like she knew what she was doing, competently shifting him around and making sure his IV didn't get tangled. She even knew to hold his gown shut while he angled to sit in the chair.

He eased into it with his arm muscles straining, and he exhaled long and loud when his weight left his feet. "Rachel," he said before he got his breath back altogether. "Ivy told me you were here, and I had to see it for myself. You look as bad as I feel, girl."

"Yeah?" I shot back. "Give me a few hours, and I'll wipe the floor with you in a game of ‘round the nurses' desk.'" As far as I was concerned, he was in way worse shape than I, but he looked a whole lot better than when I'd seen him last, unconscious and surrounded by white sheets. That I couldn't stand up yet didn't mean anything. I'd be walking before sunset even if I had to crawl to do it.

Ivy came closer, and a pang of emotion went through me. The chair Glenn was now in had been pulled to the bedside when I woke up. I'd be willing to bet she'd been sitting in it all night. She looked tired, and I wondered if she had slept at all this morning. "Hi, Ivy," I said as I reached out—knowing she wouldn't. "Jenks said Remus hit you. You okay?"

Jenks clattered his wings behind the flowers, and Ivy's calm face scrunched up. "I'm fine, more mad at myself than anything." Her fingers touched mine, and I heard everything she wasn't going to say. "I'm glad you're awake," she said softly. "You had us worried."

"My pride took a hit," I said. "I'll be fine soon as I can stand." Jenks looked out around a plastic vase with a questioning expression, his hands full of pollen, and Marshal popped his knuckles. Realizing the men had become uncomfortable, I flushed. Our fingers parted.

"Marshal, you've met Glenn, haven't you?" I said suddenly. "He's the FIB's Inderland specialist. Glenn, Marshal is the swim coach at the university."