Half and half

chapter 14-dylan

Chapter 14

Dylan

 The moment i turned away from Dimitri, i found myself face to face with angel girl. Then she did something that suprised me very much. She reached up tentatively and brushed my hair from my eyes. I blinked in surprise. I opened my mouth to say something, but before i could, Dimitri yanked me back, hissing like an angry snake. Then he leaned close and literally snarled, “we are going to kill her remember? She’s the one who created the slug that nearly killed us. Remember?” he repeated. I paled and stared at the fragile girl. Then Dimitri shoved me into the bathroom and whisper-yelled “control yourself!” He pointed to the mirror. I was surprised to see my eyes were the color of gold. Oops. “i don’t have wings.” I noted, suprised. Normally, i had golden eyes only when i had wings. Dimitri looked shifty. I groped my back and indeed, i didn’t have then. “open them.” Dimitri suggested. Feeling incredibly stupid with myself, i unfurled my black wings. My shirt disappeared. “you thought i wouldn’t have them anymore.” I accused. He shrugged. I shook my head reprovingly and tried to fold my wings. I couldn’t. I frowned and closed my eyes. I concentrated. Suddenly, a wave of dizzines and nausea swept me from my feet and i landed with a thud on the ground. I tried to open my eyes, but all i saw were black spots. My heart thudded in my ears, making my head pound. I closed my eyes and groaned. At least i attempted to. All that came out was a wheezing noise. I heard people shouting, a voice yelling, “Dylan! Dylan breathe, please! DYLAN HUNT, BREATHE‼” it sounded suspiciously like Thaila. I wasn’t breathing? I honestly couldn’t care less. Then the blackness engulfed me and i knew no more.

I opened my eyes and saw an impeccably white ceiling. I sat up, surprised when my wrist tugged something. I looked down and saw an IV driping a clear liquid into my veins. I ripped it of. So i was in a hospital. What the heck happened? I wondered. I looked around me and saw straight in front of me, a large monitor with squiggley green lines. A sound beeped constantly and i knew they were monitoring my heartbeat. Only then did i notice a small thingy attached to my pinky. I leapt up from where i’d been lying. I felt perfectly normal. Didn’t illness leave you weak? Apparently not. I looked at where i’d been lying and was surprised to see a surgery table. Beside it lay a smaller table with all sorts of operating equipment. “what the hell…” i stared at them. The objects were clean, so knew they hadn’t operated on me yet. I wondered where Dimitri, Ethan and Thaila were. The room was empty. Weird. Then i noticed something weirder. I was still wearing my black clothes, all except my shirt. My low-waist jeans remanied. Weren’t they supposed to put you in a sort of blue nightgown? Was my condition so critical… i didn’t think about it. I noticed the thingy was still clinging to my pinkie. I scowled and yanked it off. Immediatly, the monitor that supervised my heartbeat-oops, forgot about it ;)- began a squealing noise and the halls outside the door howled with a high pitched BEEEEEEEEP.  I heard a wailing nooooooooo‼ that sounded like Thaila. Then the door bust open. About thirty nurses burst into the room, followed by four doctors. They all stopped dead when they saw me leaning giultily against the far end wall. Their gaping expressions of disbelief made me giggle like a little girl. Their expressions were priceless. I reached behind me and patted my pocket. In there, my iphone hadn’t been removed. I took it out and took a picture. Their eyes only got wider. One of the nurses actually fainted. I raised my phone to take a picture of her sprawled self, when another nurse was sent flying. Something collided with me and i fell flat on my back, my phone skittering away from me. “oof.” I grunted. Thaila wrapped her arms around me while ranting on and on. “your heart stopped Dylan, stopped.” She hicupped on a sob. Then i realized Thaila hadn’t been the only one to tackle me. Ethan got up with a sheepish expression. I raised my arm and gripped Thaila with the other. Ethan grabbed it and pulled us both up. Then i patted Thaila on the back while she clung to me and refused to let go. “Ethan, can you pass my phone?” i asked with a pleading expression. He reached down and tossed it to me. i caught it neatly with my free hand and opened google maps to check where the hell were we. “i don’t know where we are.” Ethan confessed. “neither do i. Dimitri took you here.” Thaila whispered. I was surprised. But when i checked my phone, i did not expect to see that. “we’re in freaking LA, california. Currently on Westwood, UCLA medical center.” Huh. LA. Ethan and Thaila gaped at me. Finally, Thaila spoke, “how the hell did Dimitri know where one of the best hospitals of USA? We’ve never been here.” I grinned at that, “well, i have. And i know just the place to go.” My eyes glinted with excitement. I picked up my iphone and called my mom’s chauffer. “hello, Chives.” I said in fluent french. (it was where he came from.) Ethan and Thaila stared at me incomprehensibly. They didn’t know French. After two minutes of conversation in fast French, I grinned. “Okay, let’s go.” The doctors still stood there stupidly. I then blurred, dragging both Thaila and Ethan. It was surprisingly fast. We stood in the lobby of a beautiful hotel in Beverly Hills. “Welcome to the Four Seasons.” I said, dramatically swinging an arm in an arc across the wide lobby. They stared with wide eyes at the breathtaking setting. “This is awesome! But I left my credit card in my locker. And this doesn’t look very affordable.” Ethan pointed out. I laughed and said, “here.” I walked to the clerk, who was registering an elegant woman in a fluffy shawl. She wrinkled her nose when she saw us and turned with a huff. I realized I still didn’t have my shirt on. Oops. “Stuck-up bitch.” I snorted. My friends and the clerk stared at me. I fought the urge to laugh, instead saying, “Presidential Suite West, please.” I told the clerk, looking at him expectantly. He didn’t acknowledge our presence, even if he undoubtedly saw us. I hated people that judged from appearances, so instead I said, “Ian Hunt’s kid.” His beady eyes widened, then he sneered, about to say something, when I interrupted, “yeah, you probably think I’m kidding. But you just got a call from Chives didn’t you?” He paled. I continued, pulling something out of my wallet, “there you go, swipe it.” I passed him an American Express Black Card. He took it with shaky fingers and swiped it. His eyes widened when he saw the sum of money in it. I smirked and repeated, “the Presidential Suite West at the name Dylan Hunt, please.” He nodded hurriedly, “of course Mr. Hunt. It’ll be right up.” He pressed some buttons and the Hotel manager hurried from who-knows-where. “Mr. Hunt! Hello there! We were just about to take you to our car pick-out!” he said, glaring at the clerk. A squeal of tires and the smell of burnt rubber made me grin. “That won’t be necessary. We’ve got a ride.” I made a sharp turn and headed towards the yellow Bugatti. A lithe 16 or 17-year-old kid leapt out, looking smug in a pair of Prada sunglasses, a startling contrast to his pale skin. His black clothing made him blur with the darkening landscape. He headed toward us, tossing the keys to one of the awestruck vale-parking worker. The boy reached us and gave a Cheshire cat grin. “Dimitri.” Was all I said.