The Woman in Blue

Chapter 23: A Burke Halloween

Burke Townhouse. Friday, October 29, 2004.

"How much of that was real?" Neal asked, taking a sip of tea laced with honey to ease his bruised throat.

He was sitting with Peter on the Burkes' patio enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was a mild Indian summer day, and neither one of them wanted to be inside. Being in the open air made the events of the previous night seem all the more unbelievable.

"Hard to say for sure." Peter was sprawled on one of the patio chairs and had put his feet up on a second one. Aside from slightly singed hair from the "subway tunnel" he showed no physical effects from the previous night. "The toxicology report revealed that both of us had significant amounts of hallucinogens in our systems. Azathoth used an undocumented exotic cocktail. The last time I checked, they hadn't identified all the chemicals in the mixture. The amount in your bloodstream was much higher than mine. You may have been given an extra amount after you were attacked. There were traces of the chemical in the blood on your shirt. Do you remember the doctors telling you that was pig's blood on your clothes?"

Neal stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

"Yep, the gun you held was loaded with blanks. As for the creature who assaulted you, we believe it was a thug in an elaborate disguise with concealed blood packets. They spurted out after you thought you'd shot him. If you hadn't, he probably would have sprayed it over you anyway."

Peter's jaw hardened as he explained the attack. Looking at his grim expression, Neal slipped back to the incident—the hands on his throat, the body on the floor, the expression on Peter's face.

"Hey, sorry," Peter said, tapping him on the knee. "Plenty of time later to go over this stuff. I could use your help with shopping for a replacement suit next week."

"You won't try to resurrect your old one? Thank you! I know what a major concession this is for you." Neal took another sip of tea. "I'm not surprised that no one would stop to give us a lift. Between the slime and the blood, we must have looked like zombies seeking another meal. How many cars passed us? Three?"

"At least. By the time we happened on that police car, we were such a pitiful sight, anyone with a heart would have stopped."

"I had no idea the backwoods of New Jersey could be so isolated." They walked along a country road for miles before finding a highway.

El stepped onto the patio and dropped extra blankets on both of them. "I caught a glimpse of your clothes before they were carried away for analysis. It was a good thing they'd already cleaned you up before I saw you. Those patrol officers earned my undying gratitude for finding you." She looked like she wanted to say something but bit back the words.

Peter leaned over to pat her hand. "It's okay, hon. You were there with the doctors. All we need is a little rest."

"I'm not convinced you should be out of bed. And Neal, don't you dare tell me you're fine. I can see your neck."

"Tea and honey working wonders." Neal cleared his throat and tried valiantly not to sound quite so much like a frog. "The doctors said everything would heal in about a week. Talking will help keep my throat from seizing up."

The phone rang inside the house. Giving Peter strict instructions to stay put, El left to answer it.

The patio was bright with late-blooming asters. He should paint the view someday, but doing anything at the moment didn't have much appeal. Those muscle relaxants were stronger than he realized. He was getting sleepy again.

El's voice roused him. "Peter, it's Reese Hughes. You feel up to talking with him?"

Peter left to take the call, and El sat down in his place.