Only a Mother Could Love (Afterlife Book 3) Page 8

  "My God," Lewis said from behind her. "You weren't lying."

  "Move aside, gypsy," Sarah said. "I have no quarrel with you."

  "Gypsy?" Harper asked. "I'm your friend, Sarah. We work together. You know me, I'm Harper. Don't do this."

  Sarah only stared at her, and Harper saw that her eyes had become a deep violet color.

  "Move aside," she repeated.

  "No."

  "Then you are one with this murderer?"

  "I'm not with anyone," Harper said. "I'm trying to stop you from making a grave mistake. This isn't you, Sarah. You've been taken over... by something."

  "Move aside, gypsy, or I shall move you myself."

  Harper reached into her purse and drew her gun. She leveled it at Sarah, her heart beating loudly in her ears. Was she really doing this? Could she really do it? She didn't know, and didn't think she would until it came time to pull the trigger. "Leave."

  Sarah ignored the gun completely, not even seeming to recognize what it was. Instead, she lunged at Harper, who fell backwards on her butt, not expecting the sudden attack. Her gun went off, and plaster rained down on them all. She was acutely aware of her breathing, which had become forced and ragged.

  Sarah stepped over her and faced Lewis. "It is time for justice," she said in a cool, still voice.

  "I didn't mean it," Lewis said. "I didn't mean it! Please! Don't kill me!"

  "You think your life matters?" Sarah demanded. "You think I listen to the pleas of men like you? You think I haven't heard your groveling excuses before? Your incessant apologies? Your justifications?"

  She lunged at him, but Harper had gotten back to her feet and threw herself in the way. Sarah collided with her, knocking them both over. She tried to get back up, but Harper held her down. "Stop it, Sarah!"

  "I won't stop till he's paid the ultimate price!"

  Sarah tried to draw herself away from Harper, but soon realized it would do little good as long as the other woman was holding her. So she raked at her face with her long, pointed talons. Harper turned her head, and the talons cut into her hair instead of blinding her. She threw a punch at Sarah's face. The other woman didn't see it coming, and took the blow full-force.

  She rolled over to where she was on the bottom, and then used her weight and position to throw Harper from herself. With her strength greatly amplified by her fury form, Harper had no chance and was sent flying through the air. She crashed into the wall and everything went dark.

  Suddenly, she was Ileana again, standing on a snowy hill, overlooking a village. She knew this scenery quite well; it was here that her great-grandmother had lived and loved. Normally, Harper took this is a chance to explore a little as the dream was lucid and real, but this time, she could only think about getting back to the fight.

  Harper tried to force herself awake, but couldn't do it. She was stuck on the snowy hill while Lewis was probably in the process of getting killed. She let out a curse and kicked at the snow. She turned her face to the sky and shouted, "Ileana! Help me!"

  Though she could understand herself, she realized she had yelled out in the Russian tongue. She realized she wouldn't be able to get any help from Ileana; she was Ileana. This thought brought her to a standstill, and she considered for a moment. What would Ileana do? She didn't think her great-grandmother would have killed Lewis, and she didn't believe she would let her friend be the one who did the deed.

  The thought suddenly popped into her head that it never hurt to ask for help. With this in mind, she ran down the snow-covered hill, through the village, and into the alleyway. As usual, Alec was waiting in the shadows for her. He stepped out to greet, his mouth already forming to make the words she'd gotten used to.

  Before he could speak, she ran up to him, and shook her head. "Alec, I need you."

  "What is it, Ileana? What's wrong?"

  "I need to wake up."

  "What?"

  "I have to wake up," Harper said, her voice laced with desperation. "Wake me up, Alec."

  "I don't understand," Alec said. "You're not sleeping, Ileana. You're here with me."

  "No, I'm not. I'm in a different time, and one of my friends -- one of our friends -- is about to make a huge mistake. They're about to kill someone -- a human -- if I don't wake up and stop her. She's a fury."

  Alec shook his head. "Ileana, have you been taken with the fever?" He reached a hand out to feel her forehead and Harper slapped it away.

  "I'm not taken with the fever," she said, "and I'm not crazy. I'm telling you, Alec, someone is about to die. I have to save them. You have to wake me up."

  Once again, he shook his head. He put a hand on her face, and Harper felt a shiver go down her spine. She tried to tell herself it was just because she was Ileana; this was her memory, not Harper's. She'd feel something because Ileana had felt something. Then Alec's lips touched hers, and she forgot all her worries. It was the best feeling she could have imagined; much better than sunbathing on a freshly cut lawn, or picking strawberries out of a bowl to dip in whipped cream.

  Nothing else mattered in that moment; not Sarah, not Lewis, nothing but her and Alec, their lips touching gently, the feeling of his hand on her cheek. Then he whispered, "Wake up, Ileana."

  Harper's eyes snapped open and she was once again in Lewis's house. She sat up, nearly vomited, and felt the back of her head. There was a nice lump there, and when she looked at her fingers, they were sticky with blood. She let out a groan, and looked around.

  Lewis had retrieved her gun and was now taking aim at Sarah, who was circling him. She ignored her head pain and jumped to her feet.

  "No!"

  Just as he took the shot, she threw herself in front of Sarah, knocking them both down again. The bullet went into her right shoulder and she screamed in agony. It was like white fire, coursing through her body. She could feel nothing else, could think about nothing else. Was she dying? She didn't know.

  Her scream seemed to snap Sarah to her senses momentarily. Her eyes left Lewis, and she looked at Harper. "You've been shot!"

  "I know," Harper said weakly. Her head was swimming, and she could hardly breathe.

  "I didn't mean it," Sarah said, unknowingly echoing Lewis. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

  "I need to get to the hospital," Harper said.

  "Yes," Sarah said. She looked at Lewis, who was starting to take aim again. She glared at him for a moment, and her face lost that concerned, friendly look, and she once again seemed full fury.

  "I will return when you no longer have the gypsy guarding you," she said. "I will return, and we shall finish this."

  She swept from the house, leaving Harper and Lewis alone. Lewis set the gun down, breathing heavily. Then he ran to Harper, kneeling down beside her. "I was aiming for her," he said.

  "You can't kill her," Harper said, "First of all, she's a fury. I doubt bullets will even work on her. Secondly, she's right. You deserve to be punished. Do you see why I wanted you to turn yourself in? The police can protect you. They'll keep you somewhere she can't find you."

  He groaned and got back to his feet. He disappeared for a minute, and then returned, carrying a towel. He pressed this on the bullet wound, holding it tightly. Harper swam in and out of consciousness. When she finally came to, she was in an ambulance. Lewis was riding beside her.

  "I told them about the accident," he said. "I told them we were messing around, trying to figure out how to clean the gun, and I accidentally shot you."

  Harper said nothing.

  "I'm going to turn myself in," he whispered, "as soon as we get to the hospital, I'm going to call the police. I'm going to tell them that I beat Monica, and I beat her so badly that she died. I'm going to get help, Harper, and then I'm going to serve my time. I deserve that."

  "Yes," she said. "You do."

  "But this..." he said, pointing to the bullet wound, which was taped over with gauze. "This was an accident. You have to believe that."

  "I do," Harper said, and then ever
ything faded to black once more.

  She woke up in the hospital. Everyone from Afterlife was gathered around her bed. Everyone except Sarah. It was like feeling a ghost in the room where her presence should have been.

  "Oh my God, Harper," Brittney said. "You're awake, thank God. What happened?"

  "An accident," Harper said. She looked around for any police. "How long have I been out?"

  "A few hours," Alec said. His voice was oddly constricted. "They had to do surgery to remove the bullet fragments. Brittney was listed as your emergency contact, and as soon as she told us, we all came. Well, most of us."

  Chloe looked down at the ground, far more subdued than usual. "Sarah didn't answer her phone, or respond to any texts we sent her. I don't even think she's reading them. She might not have her phone on her... she doesn't know what happened."

  "She knows," Harper said. She quickly told them the story about what had happened at Lewis's house. She left out the part about the vision with Alec. It wasn't important to the story, and she thought she'd best keep that to herself. Alec had only kissed her because he believed her to be Ileana.

  "What are we going to do?" Chloe asked, looking at Alec.

  Conner shook his head. "We can't do anything. If she's a true fury, it's going to be nearly impossible to reach out to her."

  "She won't be able to get him now," Alec said, "He turned himself in for the murder of his wife. With time, she'll come back to us."

  "I hope so," Chloe said.

  She wiped a tear from her eye, and Harper's heart went out to her. Just as she and Brittney were best friends, she knew that Chloe and Sarah were too. She started to offer some word of comfort, but Brittney beat her to it, putting an arm around Chloe's shoulders and drawing her into a hug.

  "It's going to be alright," Brittney said.

  "Of course it is," Conner said. "She's one of us. Like Alec said, give her time. She'll return."

  Before anyone could say more, the door opened and a doctor stepped in. "I need to speak with the patient in private," he said. He was a tall, young man with light brown hair and large blue eyes. Harper couldn't help but appreciate his body either. The group filed out, leaving her alone with him.

  The doctor pulled up a chair beside her bed. "I'm Doctor Cameron," he said. "I was the doctor who operated on you. You had several bullet fragments. You also had a nasty bump on your head. You have a concussion."

  "Yeah," Harper said.

  "The thing is," he said, "the man who came in with you told me that it was an accident, that the two of you were cleaning your gun, and that it was an accidental discharge."

  Harper nodded. "That's right."

  The doctor leaned back. "I've seen wounds from people cleaning guns. The way the bullet fragments looked, you were shot from a distance of at least five feet, maybe ten. And your head injury happened beforehand."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because of the matted blood," he said. "When the ambulance arrived, it should have still been bleeding, but it was already clotting. This leads me to believe that you hit your head, and then you were shot. Does this sound right?"

  Harper said nothing.

  "I know that sometimes you feel like you have to protect someone," the doctor said carefully. "That they deserve a second chance. You might love them, and don't want to see them in trouble. But your wounds -- you could have died from either one of them."

  "But I didn't," Harper said, "and I'm not protecting someone, Doctor. I can't tell you what really happened, just that I don't want to press charges, and that the man who did it is in a lot of trouble already. I'm not going to add to that for what was really an accident."

  The doctor sighed. "I figured you'd say that," he said, "Abuse victims--"

  "I wasn't the abuse victim," Harper said. "I was there to talk to him about another crime he'd committed. Check my purse. You'll find my badge. I'm with the FBI"

  "Oh, you're FBI?"

  Harper nodded.

  "In that case, I'll leave you be," he said, standing back up. "Your vitals are good, the surgery went well. I don't want you moving around for a while, though. You'll be in an arm sling as well."

  "Can I go home?" Harper asked.

  "I'd rather you didn't."

  "I have to," Harper said. "I'm working on an important case. I can't afford to sit out."

  "You've been shot, and you have a serious head wound."

  "I'll be fine," Harper said. "You said so yourself. Don't worry, I'm not going to go chase down criminals. I'm just going to go home, and relax, and try to get some real sleep. I just need to see my case notes."

  Doctor Cameron sighed, but nodded. "I know how it is with you work junkies," he said. "Can't stand to stay a day away. I'll discharge you, but you won't be able to drive. I'm assuming one of your friends out there will be taking you? And I'd rather you not stay alone."

  "I won't be," Harper said.

  "Good," he said. "I'll write you a prescription for some painkillers and antibiotics."

  "Thank you," Harper said.

  "I'm going to recommend bed rest," he said. When he saw her face, he laughed. "I know, I can recommend whatever I want, right? I can see it written all over your face. But I am going to have to insist that you don't engage in any physical activity -- and that includes sex -- for at least a couple weeks. Think you can handle that?"

  Harper tried to take stock of herself; her entire body hurt, and she could barely lift her right arm. Her head was aching, and she felt mildly sedated. "Yeah, I can handle that."

  "Good," he said. "Alright, I'm going to send in a nurse to take your vitals one more time, and then I'll write up your discharge papers. Remember, take all your antibiotics. I don't think you have an infection, but it would be easy to develop one after that wound."

  "I will," Harper said.

  "And you're sure that you don't want to talk to the police?"

  "I'm sure," Harper said.

  "Well, feel better," Doctor Cameron said. He stood up, and checked her IV bag. Her fluids were empty, and he replaced the empty bladder with a full one. "The nurse should be in soon."

  "Thank you," Harper said again. "I appreciate it."

  The doctor let himself out, and Alec came inside.

  "Where's everyone else?" Harper asked.

  "They went down to the gift shop," he said. "Prepare to be overwhelmed by flowers and giant stuffed animals."

  Harper let out a short laugh.

  "What's the prognosis?" he asked.

  "They're letting me go," Harper said. "But I can't drive, and I supposedly need a babysitter for at least the night. I have a concussion."

  "Good thing you have me," Alec said with a smile.

  "You shouldn't even be out right now," Harper said. "What if someone sees you? You're weak right now, Alec. Vulnerable."

  Alec laughed. "Yeah, I guess I am. But that's alright. I'll live through it. I'll give you a ride home when you're ready, and make sure you're comfortable and resting. Then I'll watch over you tonight."

  "You can't tonight," Harper said. "You guys need to be on those roads, making sure that the masked demon doesn't appear and kill someone."

  "That can wait till tomorrow night," Alec said. "Right now, you're more important."

  Their eyes locked, and Harper felt all the saliva in her mouth dry up. Her heart was beating heavily again, and she imagined herself as Ileana. But she wasn't her great-grandmother, and there was nothing there; there couldn't be anything there.

  "Harper," he said. "When I heard you were shot--"

  "--Don't," Harper said. "Just take me home, Alec. Then go out tonight, and save that person."

  Alec said nothing. He just held her gaze for a long moment. Eventually, Harper looked away, feeling the blood rushing to her face. It wasn't fair, she thought. She finally found someone she liked, someone that she thought she could love, and it had to be a vampire who could never offer her a real life. They came from two different times, and there was the romance with her gr
eat-grandmother to consider, too. She would never compare.

  She started to open her mouth, but before she could articulate these feelings, the nurse stepped in. She snapped her mouth closed and let the nurse take her vital signs in silence. Alec went outside to wait. After her vitals were taken, the nurse helped her dress. Her shirt was ruined, but Brittney had brought her another one, and she slid that one on with a wince of pain.

  Putting on her pants was a task all on its own, and she was grateful for the nurse to be there, and that it was her helping her dress and not one of her friends or Doctor Cameron. She tried to imagine the young doctor pulling up her pants and couldn't do it.

  "I hope you feel better," the nurse said. She touched Harper on her uninjured shoulder. "I know who you are," she said, "and from those of us who follow you, we appreciate your service."

  "What?"

  "Not everyone is oblivious to Afterlife," the woman said. "But I know who you guys are, I know you risk your life every day to keep this city safe."

  "Are you... are you supernatural?" Harper asked.

  The woman shook her head. "No, but that doesn't matter. You have your fans amongst the human variety too. You have quite a cult-like gathering, Miss Hawthorne."

  "Harper, please."

  "Well, Harper, if you ever need anything, you get hold of me. Here's my phone number. I'll make sure you get whatever help you need," the nurse said. "My name is Alicia Moore."

  "Thank you, Alicia."

  She nodded, and left the room.

  Harper sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the throbbing in her shoulder and head while she waited for the discharge papers to come through. At least, she thought to herself, she wouldn't have to stay the night. There was always a silver lining.

  NINE

  Once everyone had gone, and it was just Harper and Alec in their apartment, Harper felt like she could finally relax a little. She changed into pajama bottoms and sprawled out on his couch. He'd insisted she sleep there instead of in her room, so he could keep an eye on her.

  She appreciated everything that Alec was doing for her, but she didn't like it. She didn't want to grow closer to him.