The Rising (Darkness Rising 3)

TWENTY-NINE

WHEN I SURFACED TO feel someone sitting beside me, I cracked open my eyes enough to catch a glimpse of brown skin and dark hair and reached out to push Antone away.

"Hey," said a voice. "That's no way to treat your nurse."

I pried open my eyes enough to see Rafe sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Sorry," I said. "I thought you were . . ."

I looked past him to Antone, who was slouched in a chair across the room. He was awake, but his gaze was fixed on the wall, deep in thought.

"Mmm, yeah," Rafe murmured under his breath. "Don't blame you."

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. Daylight glowed through the frosted glass window. Kenjii walked over and nudged me. As I patted her, Antone noticed me and rose.

"How are you?" he asked.

It took a second to remember what had happened. When I did, I felt a burst of panic, until I wriggled my toes and saw them move under the sheets. I pulled my legs up and stretched my arms. Hurt like hell, but everything seemed to be functioning.

"Sore," I said.

"Yeah, you took a little tumble," Rafe said.

"Little? Ah, so I fell onto the roof, not over the wall."

"Thankfully," Antone said. "You'll have bruises, but Dr. Inglis assures me nothing is broken. Rafe's been trying to use his healing powers."

Rafe looked abashed. "I don't think I have any yet. Maybe you can try yours?"

Antone shook his head. "A skin-walker can only heal others."

He was right--I'd tried it on a few of my cuts and bumps during our adventures, and my powers had no effect.

Antone handed me a glass of water. My mouth was cotton-dry from the tranquilizers. I took it and started drinking.

"You can rest some more," Antone said. "When you're ready, though, I need to call Mr. Nast and Dr. Inglis in to talk to you about what happened last night."

"Take my statement." I glanced up around the ceiling. "I guess that means they couldn't watch the fun for themselves?"

"No, there aren't cameras in the bedrooms," he said, then mouthed, "just microphones." I knew that, from Rafe, but it was nice to have someone admit it.

"Tell them I'm ready," I said.

Antone shook his head. "Get some more rest."

"No. Let's get this over with."

Nicole was all right. I was . . . I would say I was glad to hear it, except that I was really only relieved because I didn't want to be responsible for her death, which isn't nearly as altruistic. Did that bother me? Intellectually, it did. Canada doesn't have the death penalty, and I agree with that. There was no part of me that wanted Nicole dead for killing Serena. Punished, yes. Locked up, yes. But her death wouldn't bring Serena back.

She was fine, though. Bruised and battered, but fine.

Had she been drugged? When I raised that possibility, Dr. Wiley acted like I was being paranoid. Nicole was unstable. That was all. Still, when I described how she'd behaved--the wild eyes, the inhuman strength--Dr. Inglis agreed she should be tested and promised to do it herself.

I was relieved that no one tried to say Nicole's escape was an accident. Nast had already ordered a full investigation and all security personnel on duty last night had been put on a plane to Los Angeles to face questioning there.

Near-death experience aside, I was still in trouble for trying to escape. I could have laughed at that. I think I might have. Nast did not appreciate it. Antone pointed out that, given that Nicole had almost killed me and I suspected someone in the house had engineered the attack, it made perfect sense for me to run. It was self-defense, really. And I had been about to turn myself in when I was shot. The other guard had confirmed that.

Nast wasn't convinced. I would spend the rest of the day in isolation. No visitors other than authorized personnel. And Dr. Wiley needed to run another complete examination, because Nast was concerned that my attack on Nicole proved I was regressing.