Part 46 (2/2)
”Martha, it's an intensive care unit! Our patients are here because they need extra care.”
She wasn't going to back down. Neither was Dorcas.
”I had best come in tomorrow and find out that Andy is alive and still holding his own!” she warned.
Janice bit her lip. The third floor nursing supervisor was coming down the hallway. She wasn't going to stoop to a brawl in front of the woman.
”Good night, Dorcas,” she said firmly, and turned away.
She waited until Dorcas had finally departed and went in to check on old Andy Markham. IV running, vital signs weak, but steady.
He would still be termed critical, but stable.
It was going to be a long night, Janice thought.
She went to read the rest of the doctor's notations at the nurses' station. ”Trust me, Dorcas, the old b.u.g.g.e.r will still be kicking when you come in tomorrow,” she muttered.
She frowned, suddenly, a s.h.i.+ver ripping through her as the lights seemed to dim, as if giant bat wings had swept through a corner of the hospital.
”They've got to fix that air-conditioning!” said Toby Wyatt, hugging herself where she sat at the phone station.
”And the lights,” Janice agreed. She hesitated, then set down her notes and walked back down the hall to look at her patient, Andrew Markham.
No change.
She was still... cold. And little s.h.i.+vers still seemed to trickle down her spine, one after the other.
Finn showered and changed at Huntington House.
Megan had been sitting on the bed, waiting for him, but when he came out of the bathroom, she wasn't there.
He dressed quickly, and went into the dining area and then the parlor, looking for her. Sally, the pretty young blonde, was sipping tea, minus her husband. She smiled at Finn. ”Hi, how's it going?”
”Good, thanks. Have you seen my wife?”
”Actually, yes. She was in here getting a cup of tea. Strange, too! Susanna walked in and saw her, and nearly dropped the tray she was carrying, she was so startled to see her, though why she should be startled to see a guest, I don't know. Anyway, Megan, your wife, helped her pick up the mess she made, got her tea in a to-go cup, and headed outside. I think she wanted to talk to Mr.
Fallon, because he had come through the parlor before going out to water some of the plants by the house.”
”Thanks,” Finn said, and turned quickly.
”Hey, we'll be there tonight!” she called to him.
”Thanks, we appreciate the business,” he told her, calling over his shoulder. He didn't know why, but he didn't want Megan alone anywhere near Fallon.
When he came out the front entry, though Megan was on the walk, Fallon was nowhere to be seen. He hurried to Megan. ”Hey!
You scared me. And I'm not so sure you should go looking for Fallon on your own. The old fart is creepy.”
Megan smiled. ”I think he's all right. Just a Wiccan.”
”Oh?”
She kept smiling.
”So... ?” he queried.
She lifted a tiny velvet bag.
”And what's that?”
”It's a little satchel of some stuff called burdock,” she said, and went on to explain, ”It brings luck-and wards off evil spirits.”
”You really think a little bag of stuff can help?”
”It can't hurt.”
”You got it from Fallon?”
”Yes.”
”Are you certain that it is the stuff called bird-whatever?”
She laughed. ”Pretty certain. I've seen it at Morwenna's.”
He nodded. ”Okay, if it makes you feel better.””Actually,” she said, ”it does.” She stroked his cheek. ”I'm wearing a pretty little medieval cross I picked up at a shop today, too.
One or the other might just kick in.”
”Sure,” he said.
But he wondered unhappily just how many vulnerable young murder victims had been found clad either in their gold crosses or Jewish stars.
”We'd better get going,” he said.
From the window of Huntington House, Susanna watched Megan and Finn go around to the parking lot. When they were gone, she hurried outside.
At first, she saw no sign of Fallon.
Then he came ambling around the house, the garden hose in his hands.
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