Legacy's Ghost

Episode 27: Between Friends

After the nurse scurries out of my hospital room like her hair is on fire, I rest my head back on the pillow and close my eyes, drifting off to sleep.

I dream of the Swarm, his matte black skin with pocked, shell-like armor. It towers over me, with those massive bone fangs clamping down on me, and the tiny pinchers on its face snap snap snapping.

It hisses and screeches at an ear-piercing pitch when the Ghost stabs it.

I envision the Ghost's face when he yanks off his robe and mask. Those eyes. ice blue, filled with fear and desperation. Long, angular face, dark hair, pale skin that obviously rarely sees the light of day. I've never seen his face before, though I've seen him skulking around the halls of the monastery over the years.

How many people know what his face looks like?

Edmond? Cook? The other members of the sitting Trinity?

Nobody is supposed to know his identity. It puts him and them at risk if anyone finds out his identity. It compromises his security.

My dream flashes to my last moments of lucidity before I passed out and woke up in the hospital.

Were those blue bolts of lightening that ricocheted off the walls and through the dead Swarm real? Or were they a hallucination brought on by pain and loss of blood?

Does the Swarm have hallucinogens in their venom?

I bolt awake again.

This time, I have enough energy to sit up. Sweat covers my face, and I'm panting.

Edmond's at the side of the bed, his lips turned downward, and his wrinkles etched deeper than usual on his face.

He rests a hand on my arm. "Calm down," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's just me."

Seeing him, I swallow, scrubbing a hand down my face, then lean back against the bed.

Edmond pushes a button, raising the head of the bed until I'm sitting. "There, that's better," he says with a smile.

"How much longer do I need to be here?" I ask, rubbing my palm to my forehead.

"Not much longer. They want to do some tests on you." His brows dip. "But I'd like to have you leave sooner rather than later."

He tilts his head. "How much energy do you have?"

"I don't know. I haven't tried to get out of bed yet," I say. "How long was I out?"

Edmond glances at the door leading to the hallway. "You've been here a couple of days. I've tried to fend them off, but the tests they've done so far are coming up abnormal and they want to do more. I need to get you out of here before that happens."

He produces a ghost robe and under garments almost identical to the ones the Ghost gave me before we left the bio dome.

He leans closure, his voice a low murmur. "Put these on as quickly as you can. We have just a few minutes before the nurse comes back."

My brows raise, and I blink at him. Wisps of worry ebb into my stomach, curdling my insides until they're twisting and turning.

Edmond motions for me to give him my arm. "You may not want to watch while I take your IV out."

"I'm fine," I say. Except when he rips the tape off my arm, and pulls the thin, flexible tubing from my arm, deep purple blood oozes from the wound before he covers it in a gauzy tape and staunches the bleeding. My vision turns woozy and I blink several times.

"You okay?" Edmond asks, is brows travelling toward his hairline.

"Give me a minute," I say, pressing my eyes closed and swallowing. How does a simple IV make me sick after everything else I've been through?

He glances at the door again, then he presses several buttons on the machine that has wires attached to my heart and chest, turning it off.

He pauses before he pulls the adhesive pieces from my chest near one of my purple scars. "Impressive."

"Yeah, they did an amazing job fixing me up," I say, stroking the scar again.

Edmond's gaze darts to mine. "They didn't do that. You did. You fixed yourself."