Sentinel Event

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Night fell and wore on slowly into the wee hours. Aidriel slept shallowly and awoke agitated, rising to pace around his room. He hated the quiet and the shadows. He measured the time not by the hours but by how long his recovery was taking, and how often he was visited. He was in no hurry to leave, but soon it wouldn't matter where he was.

At a soft knock on the doorframe he looked up to see a brunette in scrubs carrying a little organizer tote.

"Hi, I'm Dreamer from the lab," she said. "I'm here to draw some blood."

She paused as if waiting for his reaction, and he wondered if she expected a comment about her name. He understood how being constantly asked about one's moniker could quickly grow tiresome. There was no point in making small talk. Besides, it still hurt to speak.

Aidriel passively sank down onto his bed, keeping his eyes on her. She approached with a hint of shyness, and he noticed as she put on her gloves that her hands were shaking.

"Could you spell your last name for me, please?" Dreamer asked softly. She set her supply tray on the chair beside his nightstand and began preparing the items she'd need without looking at him.

"A-K-I-M-O-S," he whispered. She looked up questioningly, but saw the marks on his throat and just nodded and smiled, thanking him.

Dreamer's hands steadied as she positioned his arm on the bedside table, tying on a tourniquet, softly speaking—or rambling, he thought—about what she was doing.

"You've got great veins," she murmured with a smile.

Aidriel wasn't listening to her, and had turned so he could better hear the hallway, his eyes to the side and fixed on the door. The ward was very still, and over the classical music drifting from far away somewhere, his ears caught the whisper of ragged breathing.

Instantly, Aidriel became restless and flinched away from Dreamer, who paused patiently and apologized. With a calm warning, she inserted a needle into his vein and attached a tube, waiting for the stream of blood to fill it.

"Do you work with animals?"

She was trying to make conversation, noticing the claw marks on his skin. Aidriel was mostly ignoring her, but perceived the pause in her words while she waited for an answer. He shook his head and whispered, "Hurry up."

He was still watching the doorway when the Passer came to stand in it. The spirit was a middle-aged man with long hair and long nails. He was wheezing loudly and had a glower of hatred on his face. Everyone had a Passer; this was Aidriel's.

Dreamer glanced up at him uncomfortably and noticed his anxiety. She followed his gaze to the door, but saw nothing there.

"Is it a Passer?" she asked, removing the tube from the needle to push on another. "Bothering you, is it? They don't cause these, do they?" She indicated his injuries.

Aidriel was startled that she knew immediately what was wrong, and was turning to say so when the Passer attacked.

The spirit came flying forward in a blur, a guttural growl rising in its throat. Aidriel jerked swiftly to try and get away, but found himself cornered by Dreamer and the nightstand. His sudden movement pulled the needle in the phlebotomist's hand out of his arm, but he didn't notice the blood streaming out of the puncture wound.

There was no protection against a Passer attack, though it was human nature to at least attempt self-defense. Aidriel was not unused to being treated harshly, but had endeavored unsuccessfully to fight back before. There could be no trading of blows with the spirits. The result was always frustration or despair and inevitable harm.