Sapphire Blue [The Grim Reaper Chronicles, #1] (Editing)

Chapter Forty

With the impending dangers on ground, and the presumed people left on tenterhooks back at the orphanage home, pacing back and forth in fear of the unknown, they ought to have reached the hospital few minutes after they received that angst of a call that had bathed their stomachs in a turmoil of jarring thoughts. It should be a celerity race down the old but methodical health center. But there was always an obstacle to stop people from taking a leap to wherever their attention was needed. It was a tough one getting rid of theirs. Before grabbing his keys from the ceramic bowl on the counter and appeasing the feminine figure trotting beside in fright and worry, he had raked his brain for every possible excuse, ideas and inspiration to overcome their own very obstacle.

Right before the call came in, he and Samantha had been busy with Nanke, who had showed out of blue at his villa with the excuse of a visitation, in her hand a box of the newest version of illustration puzzle anyone could find in the country. Her act had been accustomed with a sweet smile and soft gestures, solely directed at Samantha. Lestat knew more than to believe she had actually appeared at his place to play a fun game with him and Samantha. He knew her too well to believe the lies. Nanke had a mission, but he couldn't place a hand on what it was. In all the years he had spent in the chamber with her forcefully stuck to his side, he had seen and read every of her tricks. Her patience and gentleness secretly meant she was in for a kill. He had experienced it several times.

But he didn't refute her too-kind suggestion to leisure, or couldn't, because Samantha had willingly out of reciprocation accepted her offer. Coffee and fruit juice had flowed in, a bitter reminder in his mouth that something was wrong somewhere. Halfway into the puzzle, he couldn't contain his burning resentment toward Nanke as he watched her smile to her self sly and discreetly, one that irritated him to the core. His partner had mistaken her smiles and cocky grins as one administered by the fact that she was way ahead of them in the game. By the the time the illustration of a Chrysler lebron had almost been sorted out, he almost couldn't resist the urge to strangle her to the point of confessing her real ulterior motives. The bitch in her would not make things for him if he opted for it, but he was sure he would get a good deal out of it. When the call came in, they were already done puzzling, and Nanke was preparing to leaving. At least not until she learnt the reason behind the call.

Even at the expense of arriving late at the hospital when they could have been early, she had tried to buy more time by engaging them in petty conversations. Mostly contradicting the expression she had on her face, and the smile plastered on her dark-painted lips. Samantha had felt slightly offended at her lack of concern about the information that had reached their ears about her friends. She had instead raved on about irrelevant things, terribly good at it. By the time they had managed to leave the house abruptly and settle into his car for the drive, Samantha had exploded in tears. Lestat, whose face darkened at that instant, and allergic to female tears had tried his best to console her, pulling the car to a stop at some interval to give his best motivations to his worried companion. He knew everything and anything had to do with Nanke, and he was dying with anger to know what it all was.

In any ounce, he wasn't supposed to feel agitated as he was when he met her tear stained eyes, but he couldn't control it in some way. Something in her hazel eyes made his jaw clench without him realizing it. He was mad.

On her behalf.

She was hurt. He felt hurt, too.

Why?

As they drew nearer to the hospital, Samantha body tensed. She didn't know what to expect of her friends' condition, but the way the caller had described things made it seem it was way worse than she could imagine. After dropping the address of the health center and the ward number, the line had been hurriedly been disconnected from the other end. It wasn't the best of idea to go berserk with her thoughts, but she couldn't control the scenes flooding her head. She had a wild imagination, naturally. The explanation given wasn't helping, either. He had buckled the words so fastly that she almost couldn't make a sense out of it.