Raving Moon, Lords of the Night Book One

Chapter 12: The Doc

Though Wheeler hadn't been invited to the induction, he was on call that night. Once I informed Captain Shaw of the emergency Roddy and I rushed to the parking lot where the driver was already waiting. It was traditional that I meet Ariane that night after she spoke with the leaders of The Praetorian, but it wasn't necessary. We'd meet soon enough. Roddy jumped into the passenger seat and I climbed into the back. Wheeler pulled out of the main entrance and into the night.

"Roddy, what's going on?"

"It's Carl. I called to see when I could pick him up and the information desk told me he'd been moved to quarantine."

"What do you mean quarantine?"

"That's what they said. Wheeler, can't you go any faster?"

"Yes, sir!"

He pushed the pedal towards the floorboards and the van gathered speed. Much like New York City, Gorgon rarely slept. The streets of Tartarus were alive with taxis, livery cabs, Ubers, Lyfts, and the unwise drivers who chose to drive through midtown instead of around it. Wheeler wove through them all with practiced ease.

"Sirs, if the damage was spreading the night of the shooting... maybe it's contagious?"

Neither one of us had anything to say.

"Is it wise to head over there?" He asked as he stopped at a red light. "I mean, do the two of you want to risk getting infected?"

"Drive," Gates responded. Her eyes were beginning to darken, and the van was heating up.

"Sir."

We continued toward our destination and Wheeler had the common sense to keep his mouth shut.

The sanatorium that housed The Doc was located in a part of Tartarus known as Old Town. Because no historians can agree on exactly when Gorgon City was founded, most were content to imagine that the booming metropolis merely manifested out of thin air like magic. However the city began, it spread out from Old Town. Though not the literal heart of the city, I'd walked those streets and felt its pulse. Gorgon City was alive in many ways and the old neighborhood emanated with living energies. Those energies stretched their tendrils throughout the five boroughs. The Doc's sanatorium sat on the epicenter.

The edifice was officially a hospice and leper colony with facilities used to treat long-term patients suffering from all manner of chronic ailments. Those with nowhere else to go were brought to Saint Faustina's to be tended to by the Sisters of Mercy and the dedicated physicians who'd made their stay comfortable. Neither the sisterhood nor the authorities were aware of the hospital belowground where the creatures of the night came to be treated by the best preternatural doctors in the United States. The Doc sat right in the middle of House Bruce territory, but by the agreement of all five patriarchs, the five Houses of Gorgon acknowledged the facility as neutral ground. Even the authority thrones was limited within those walls.

Wheeler pulled into the rear parking lot, reserved for the staff and nuns of Saint Faustina's, and killed the engine. The nighttime guard would see the license plates and know who we were. Gates leaned forward and rested her head on the dashboard. I reached forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. Rodmilla was rarely emotional, but, when she allowed them to, those emotions ran deep. Whether she was in love with him or hated him, which depended heavily on the decade, there was nothing she felt for more deeply than Carlos Cano.

"It'll be okay," I said reassuringly. "No matter what it is, we'll pull through. The three of us always do."

"I keep jumping from being mad at him for letting himself get shot to being worried sick," she whispered. "I hate it and I can't seem to turn it off."