Off With His Head

41. Am I hallucinating?

When my eyes flutter open, I'm confronted by an unfamiliar grey ceiling. I blink in confusion, trying to gain my bearings and figure out where I am. It's only after several moments that I realise I'm not in the medical ward.

I'm in an isolation cell.

I don't know why I'm surprised. After all, I know I was bitten. I can still remember the sharp stinging pain as the vampire sunk its teeth into the flesh of my palm. But, the sight still jars me slightly. I'm so used to the familiar white falls of the medical ward, I've started to almost be comforted by them.

I shift in the bed, my body screaming in agony as all my injuries make themselves known. Everything aches, the pain worse than any other I've ever known. I gingerly lift up my white cotton shirt to see that my entire abdomen is covered in bandages and I assume my stitches have been redone.

My palm is also wrapped tightly in white and when I lift a hand up to my neck, I realise there is also plaster covering that, all the way around my shoulder and down to my elbow. I remember, all too well, the feeling of the knife sinking into my skin there. Angie has probably stitched up that wound as well.

This time, I don't even flinch when I notice the cannula trailing from hand, the pipe attached to a clear bag that hangs from a thin pole on my left. Compared to iron embedding itself in my skin, the sting of vampire teeth and being stabbed, twice, a needle doesn't seem so bad anymore.

"You're lucky to be alive, Peyton."

I turn my head to the left to see Lideri, sitting on a hard wooden chair just outside the glass of my cell. His back is poker straight as he eyes me intently with his hands clasped on his lap. I attempt to sit up, gasping as my body protests in pain. But, I feel too weak to move properly, so I settle back down on the bed, hoping he doesn't think I'm being rude.

Actually, to be honest, right now I don't give a damn.

"Sorry. I feel." I struggle to think of the word, my mind grasping for one that seems appropriate. "Weird."

"Morphine." He nods in understanding and points to the bag attached to my cannula. "It should help with pain slightly."

"Zach?" I ask with my heart in my throat. "Caleb?"

"Zach is in the medical ward. Angie is still working on him. His injuries were extremely severe," Lideri explains while I try not to flinch. "It's a miracle that he made it back. Caleb is in the cell next to you, he's still out cold from the sedative."

I want to crane my head and look for him, to see for myself that he's there. But as soon as I try, excruciating pain radiates from my neck and my shoulder. So, instead of being stubborn, for a change, I decide to take Lideri's word for it.

"Are they..." I trail off, too scared to put my fears into words.

"They're both going to be fine," he says with a small smile. "Thanks to you. It seems like a poor way to show my gratitude, keeping you in here, but I hope you understand the necessity of it."

"I do."

He shifts on his chair, leaning forward and placing his hand against the glass. "I'm proud of you, Peyton."

I blink several times, sure that I must have misheard him or that the sedative has messed with my hearing. "Am I hallucinating?"

He chuckles, which furthers my belief that this is in fact, a dream. "No, I mean it. You saved Zach, for that I am extremely grateful. And you brought both him and Caleb back. When you're feeling better, I would like to know what happened out there."

I can't help the smile that crosses my face, despite the pain. "Of course."

"And Peyton," he adds. "When you get out of the isolation cells, I think it's time we discuss your contract. You've proven yourself more than worthy."