The rational part of Saras brain warned her to chill out and feign professionalism if she didnt want any questions coming her way later, but it was almost impossible to be cool. Without a word to the nurse who stood beside Gray, Sara went to him and knelt down beside his chair. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around his long, lean frame and protect him from whatever crisis hed encountered in the past five minutes. Instead, she took his hands, misshapen and discolored from decades-old burns. What happened, Gray? she asked him gently.
Nothing. Not like she expected anything else.
Will you look at me? she asked him gently. Let me see youre okay?
Gray didnt move, just continued to stare out the window as if nothing but a light breeze had blown through his door. Sara looked up at the nurse standing beside her. Jill?
I found a stockpile in his mattress, the nurse said. Klonopin. She nodded toward the metal meal cart next to the bed.
Sara followed the nurses gaze and saw the small hill of round, yellow pills. Goddammit. How was this happening behind her back? How had she not seen signs of hoarding, and of his mental state deteriorating to this point? She turned back, stared at the once-handsome young man curled into himself like a child on the plastic chair.
Stockpiling sedatives was the road to intentional overdose. Anger, fear, and untamed guilt swam like piranha in her blood. She wanted to shake him, force him to look at her, but she had to be careful how she dealt with Gray in front of staff. As psychiatrists went, she was one of the more hands-on docs, but that didnt mean she could get all weepy and emotional with a patient without attracting attention.
When you found him, Sara asked Jill, a practiced calm in her voice, was he taking anything from the stash?
The nurse shook her head. Just adding to it. He was on the floor beside the bed stuffing the pills inside. I think he used a fork to jab a hole in the mattress.
Sara stood, pulled out her stethoscope and placed the diaphragm on Grays back, listening to his heart and lungs. When she was satisfied by what she heard, she eased the buds from her ears. Jill, she said. Get rid of the meds, but make sure he takes his regular dosage. And I mean watch and check, okay?
Of course, Dr. Donohue. Jill raised her dark brows. Do you want him back in bed for the night?
Sara winced. The question was a valid one in a situation like this, but the phrase back in bed was code for Do you want him strapped down? and there was nothing she wanted less in that moment. No, hes fine where he is. But Im going to get a new mattress in here, and in the meantime I want you to check the room for anything else, anything that might be a problem, then look in on him every ten minutes and call me if theres any change.
Jill nodded. Sure thing, Dr. Donohue.
When the nurse left the room, Sara went to stand in front of the window, in Grays line of vision. She hoped hed lift his gaze to hers for just a moment so she could connect with him. But when he did, the weight of his unhappiness read so loud and obvious in his steely gray eyes that Sara could barely keep her emotions in check. Her breath trembled as she leaned toward him, and she hated herself for it. Just give me a little more time, she whispered.
His jaw twitched; then his mouth settled into a frown, and after a moment, he turned away and shut his eyes.
Sara didnt say another word, just turned and left the room. She headed straight for her office, to the tiny bathroom that was all her own. When she got there, she shut the door and turned on the cold water. What was she supposed to do? What did he expect her to do? Let him go? Let him die? Just give him the tools to kill himself and walk away? He was fucking kidding himself if he thought she was going to do that.
Tears burned in her throat and she hauled back and smashed her fist against the bathroom door. Pain shot through her wrist, then up her forearm. It felt good for a momenther anger was alive, and the sudden release of emotional pain felt almost druglike in its quickness. Was this the release-high some of her juvie patients got off on? she wondered before the pain suddenly jumped and intensified. Sucking air through her teeth, she stuck her throbbing hand under the faucet and let the frigid water numb her skin. She glanced at the door, made sure she hadnt left an imprint.
All she needed was more time. There would come a day, one day soon, if she could get her ass in gear, that she would get it right, and Gray would finally be released from the memories that haunted him. And hell, youd be released from them too, wouldnt you?
The loud knock on her office door startled her, but pulled her back to reality. She quickly dried her hand, left the bathroom, and called, Come in, as she walked over to her desk and dropped into the black leather chair behind it. She eyed the four half-empty takeout cups scattered around the top of her messy desk, and ached for a hot cup of coffee.
Dr. Peter Albert walked into the room with an expression of a man who was long on criticisms but short on patience.
Sara didnt wait for the middle-aged ward chief to ball her out. One second after he sat in the chair opposite her, she shook her head and said, Amazing. Its close to midnight, staffs changing over, and yet the Dr. Albert spy contingent rolls on.
The man smiled dryly. I would hope so. Who knows when or if Id have heard about it from you.
He was right, but Sara didnt say it. She didnt have to. Pete had known her for four years now, and hed come to expect certain things. Her honesty and loyalty were his when it came to every patient but one.
She shrugged, tried to sound casual. Theres nothing to worry about here. Hes fine. Nothing drastic went down.
Pete didnt buy it. Only because a nurse caught him before it did.
Its my fault. The sessions this week have been particularly brutal. Hes been bombarded by flashbacks of the fire
Get serious. That pile of Klonopin was more than a week in the making.
Sara sat up and grabbed one of the half-empty cups of coffee on her desk. Were getting so close, Pete. I can feel it. Isnt that why you brought me on? To find the switch? Turn off traumatic memory for good?
Yes, thats why I hired you, and why the donors continue to throw money at the Neuro Psych departmentits also why I allow you to have Gray here. Tense lines formed around his mouth. But if anyone finds out
No ones going to find out, Sara assured him, taking a sip of coffee. Ugh. Cold. She drank it anyway.
If Gray regains his ability to speak
He wouldnt tell anyone. He wouldnt want me to lose my job.
Petes brow lifted. Even if you were the one preventing him from permanently checking out?
His words stopped her cold, because in truth, the possibly was a valid one.
Pete was quiet, his gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth and remained there a second too long before he said softly, Listen, Sara. Ive got to protect myself and this hospital.
I understand that.
Good, because Ive decided to change Grays current situation.
What does that mean? A prick of fear moved through her.
Im having him moved to lockdown.
Hell no! She slammed down her cup. No, Pete. I wont keep him in a cell, strapped to a bed, no group therapy. Hes already a prisoner.
Youre not thinking clearly. Youre making choices based on emotion, not whats right for Gray. I think maybe you should consider putting him under the care of another doctor
Sara was adamant. Not going to happen.
Sara
If you make that change without my say-so, you can consider it my resignation. Sara leaned toward him, her tone deadly serious. And all of my researchevery study on PTSD, every unpublished finding I have on memory pain in military vets, every question, every curiosity, every idea I have will go with me.
Worry etched Petes expression, and something beyond a professional loss. She knew he liked her, more than a boss should. And if she were anyone else, someone with a past that was free of tragedy and a future that offered clear possibilities, she might have given him a chance. After all, he was a decent guy, nice to look at. But she had nothing to offer anyone, not nownot yet.
Sara stood, grabbed the stack of files from her desk. I have to go. I have patients.
Pete stood as well. If the truth gets out, Im going to have to deny all knowledge. Its your career thatll be destroyed.
Sara nodded. Understood. Poor Pete, she mused. He was a good man, just not a brave one.
Sara walked out of her office and didnt stop until one of the nurses called to her from the nurses station. Dr. Donohue?
Yes?
Tom Trainers calling for you again. Its his fourth call tonight. I tried to tell him you werent available, but he insisted on holding.
Sara sighed. Hes no longer a patient here. Tell him youd be happy to recommend a doc outside the hospital, but I wont be speaking to him now or ever.
The young woman nodded. Okay.
Sara walked away from the nurses station. She needed to see Gray, see if he was all right and in the room shed left him in. The hallway was quiet, with most of the patients asleep. She grabbed his chart from the wall and entered his room. When she saw him asleep on the dormitory-style bed, a single white sheet pushed down to his knees and no restraints at his wrists, she sighed with relief.
She watched him for a few moments, the shaft of light from the hallway illuminating his pale face. Her little brother was twenty-seven in real time, but to Sara he still looked like the boy who used to chase her around the house pretending to be a hungry sister-eating dinosaur. Now he was as much a prisoner of the hospital as he was of his mind.
Sara went over to the bed and sat down beside him, laid her perfectly smooth hand over one of his fire-ravaged ones. The fire shed causedthe fire that had not only destroyed her family, but her brothers mental and physical health, as well, the summer hed turned eight.
The fire shed run from and come out unscathed.
It took every ounce of self-control she had not to lie down beside him and weep against his shoulder. But she didnt deserve his care, not until he could offer it to her himself. Because the truth was, no matter how hard she worked, shed never truly atone for her sin until she brought her brother back to life.
2
In the indigo light of predawn, Alexander Roman rounded Hudson Street and came to halt on 11th, sniffing the bitter November air like the animal hed become. Too many to choose from, he thought, his fangs elongating, vibrating as hunger gnawed at his belly. Hed tried it their way, his brothers. Every hour on the hour, theyd had him feed from the stock at RB Beef Company, one of the many businesses he and his brothers owned and operated in the city. But for Alexander, the desire to find another female, human or vampire, and sink his canines into the sweet spot below her breast, drink deep and long until her heart stopped, was impossibly strong.
His fathers DNA had finally shown up, two hundred years after it had been rooted in his mothers womb. Was this the kind of Pureblood malethe kind of paven his mother had been forced to lie with to create him? A rabid beast on a mission, pounding into her? If so, Alexander couldnt help but understand her need to despise him.
Delicate snowflakes fell around him, so white and pure until they hit the ground. The wind picked up and Alexander cocked his head to one side, the scent of blood assaulting his nostrils. Ahhhhh . . . It was human female, a delicacy, easy prey, something hed rarely allowed himself to sample until the hunger had hit. Now the hunger ruled, and he was off, flying full speed down the snowy street, his fangs curling as his mouth watered.
Then suddenly, halfway down the block, something halted him like a truck jerking on its breaks. Panting, he stood immobile on the sidewalk, an odd tingling sensation building in his fingertips. He shook his hands to get rid of it, then took off running again. But seconds later, midstride, he was hit by a rod of pain that stole the very breath from his lungs.
What the fuck?
His body began to shake and heat up as the pain traveled lightning quick up his wrists, forearms, biceps, and shoulders. Instinctively, he reached out for something to steady himself. His hand clamped around a thick metal pole and he pressed his body against the hard coolness as if it were his lover.
What the hell is happening?
First hunger, now pain.
His head began to pulse like the bends of an accordion and he could feel his pupils shrink until all he could see were shadows. Panic erupted in his chest at the sudden, ugly blindness.
Get home. Get the fuck home now!
From behind him came the steady and familiar hum of the delivery truck that always passed by at this time. Alexander heard the catlike screech of brakes and a male voice call out, Look at that asshole.
The yeasty stink of fresh bread filled the air, intermingling with the sound of shared laughter.
I havent been that hammered since the Mets won the play-offs, another man said. Careful there, buddy. Dont piss yourself.
Blind as a wolf pup, his head pressed against the dirty metal, Alexander hissed, his fangs tingling with a need to strike. If you want to remain alive and intact, keep driving.
Sleep it off, buddy, one of them called before hitting the accelerator.
Something that felt like oil snaked down Alexanders throat. It was thick and purposeful and heading for his lungs. Suddenly there was no air.
No air in. No air out.
The pressure was excruciating, and Alexander dropped to his knees, his hands locking on to either side of his head. This wasnt another symptom of hunger. This was something altogether different.
His ears felt stuffed with something . . . ragsrags that housed a hundred pissed-off flies. Panting to supply his aching lungs with even a whisper of breath, Alexander started crawling toward what he hoped were the brownstones stairs. He knew that most of the brownstones on this block had garden apartments. If he could reach one, hed have the shelter he needed. Daybreak was near and he was fifteen blocks from home and four blocks from the tunnels.