Blood and Fire

TWO

The lights were flickering in the hallway when Mara strode for the room. The flickering grew worse the closer she got, the flashing sending a throbbing ache to the back of her eyes.

Mitchell was trailing her, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he figured out what to say to her. He had tried, in the elevator, to get her to reconsider. Tried to tell her that she should report the blood sample to the chief and leave it be. She had, of course, ignored him. "Mara," he called after her as she rounded the final corner between her and the patient's room.

She barely glanced at him over her shoulder long enough to reply with a sharp, "What?"

Mitchell jogged to overtake her, placing himself between her and the closed door. She glared at him, and he glared right back. "I can't let you go in there," he told her. "Not before speaking to the chief, and not before there's an official investigation. Questioning him could be dangerous."

Mara lifted a brow. "The patient is in a coma, still healing from near fatal injuries." The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "I reckon I had handle myself without needing backup." Mitchell opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off before he could start. "If I need you," she told him, "I'll bang on the door."

She didn't give Mitchell any chance to insist again on reporting anything, on delaying this questioning, before she was ducking under his arm and slipping into the room, twisting the lock shut with the key she had swiped from his pocket. Oh, he was going to kill her when she came back out.

Her breath caught in her throat when she turned to face the patient, only to find him already staring at her. She blinked, not quite believing it: he had been in a coma only an hour ago, one that he could only come out of with medical help, and she had ordered none of her interns to come in here. Then again, it should have been impossible for someone's blood to be silver.

The man surveyed her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. She stayed perfectly still, feeling like a deer standing before a mountain lion. When his eyes finally dragged back up to meet hers, she wondered if even her blood had stilled inside her veins. "Hello," he said, his voice hoarse. He frowned, as if he hadn't expected the sound of it, but quickly washed the expression from his face. He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at her. "Where am I?"

A predator gathering details about his surroundings. Every inch of him—the tautness of his muscles, the harshness of his stare, the way he held himself even when he was sitting—suggested that he was used to being the hunter, not the prey. Some voice in the back of Mara's head screeched at her to bang on the door, to get Mitchell to rush in and whisk her away to safety again.

The man arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "You're in a hospital," she said slowly. She didn't dare move. "You were brought in by a couple who found you in one of their fields during a fire." Hard facts, she decided, were what the man wanted to hear. "You've been here for a week."

His nostrils flared at that, and she wished she hadn't locked the door. "Seven days?" His voice was so quiet, such a dangerous quiet. The door key felt heavy in her pocket, her fingers itching to reach for it. The man cursed in a language she had never heard, throwing back the thin sheet covering him from the waist-down.

Her mouth dried at the sight of him as he stood. When he was laying down, when he was sitting, she hadn't noticed how tall he was. Now that he was standing, she felt smaller than she had before. God, he was a tower of a man. He looked down at her and his hands twitched at his sides. "We're leaving," he told her.

She blinked at him, backing towards the door. "I'm calling security," she said quietly. The man frowned at her. "It's policy," she lied.

His eyes narrowed on her, his nostrils flaring. "I can smell your lies," he growled. He moved quicker than she anticipated, his long fingers closing around her wrist before she had even processed him crossing the room. A small, panicked noise escaped her, and she flung her hand behind her, hitting the door as hard as she could. The man bared his teeth at her, and yanked her so hard that the wrist he held cracked.

"Mitchell!" Her voice cracked as she screamed, but the man covered her mouth with his other hand before she could scream again. She thrashed in his hold, tears welling at the pain sparking from her wrist, her jaw, as the man held her tightly to him.

The door shook with how hard Mitchell shoved against it. She could hear the commotion outside, knew that she shouldn't have locked that damned door. The wood splintered near the hinges, and she screamed against the man's hand, hoping they could hear her. The banging on the door was relentless, adding to a steady pressure that pushed against her temples.

Her eyes burned, her wrist barked in pain. The man bent, his mouth coming close to her ear. She flinched, a whimpering noise coming out of her. "Hold tight," he hissed to her. He lowered his hand to hold her waist. For a second, she thought he was going to send them plummeting from the window behind them.

Then the pressure rose, and she felt like her head was being squeezed by a vice. She gasped for breath, the edges of her vision going black. "Please," she wheezed, unsure of what she was begging for. "Please," she said again. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, and she wondered if she would choke on her own blood.

The door burst open, and she twisted her head, the movement causing a near blinding pain to rocket through her head. She met Mitchell's wide eyes as the world slipped from beneath her. He lunged for her, in the same second that the lights went out, and the window behind them shattered inwards. Mara coughed blood all over the man holding her, and she was vaguely aware of him sliding his hand from her mouth to hold her waist. The world spun, bright white light and inky blackness pulsing around her.

The pressure in her head was unbearable. She screamed through her teeth, the sound wet and gurgling from the blood in her throat, in her mouth. Something was stroking her back, soothing little circles. She squeezed her eyes shut against the flashing light, and had the feeling of being plunged into freeing water, before she stopped feeling anything at all.