I have long since decided that I loathe hospitals. They’re glaringly bright, with harsh light that hurts the eyes, the smell of disinfectant overbearing and the pictures and decorations almost always dazzlingly colorful. It’s like a blatant assault on the senses.
The space I found myself in upon waking didn’t immediately register as a hospital room. It was dark, with only the dimmest natural light falling in from the outside, filtered through thick gray curtains. I could make out a small, round table and a chalkboard on the wall across from me. I was lying atop a sturdy mattress in a well-made bed, covered in surprisingly soft clean sheets. The air was fresh and pleasantly cool and my blanket was thick enough to keep me warm but not too heavy. What a weirdly perfect place. Twisting around to look behind me, I found a blinking red light above a large button. There was a sticky note taped to my bedpost right below. “Press when awake.”
I shrugged to myself and reached out to push the button with my fingertip. The light stopped blinking and I pushed myself into a comfortable sitting position, figuring that now was the time to wait. Looking down at myself, I found that I was wearing a loose white t-shirt and black boxers. Far more comfortable than some stiff hospital gown. Slowly lifting the hem of my shirt, I inspected the damage with bated breath. My stomach was neatly bandaged up, the tissue covering the wound pristine and soft. From outside the door, I could hear footsteps drawing closer, the sharp clacking of heels alerting me of a woman approaching. Either that or a man with unusual fashion choices.
Eventually, the door swung open and my jaw fell. She was tall and slender, her bobbed auburn hair framing an angular, striking face. I recognized her instantly. Mary Markov, the local celebrity newsreader, was in my room and I had no idea why. I’ve mentioned her before, I believe—she acted as the moderator of Kit Sutton’s beach concert. We’ve never spoken, though, and why would we? I tilted my head at her. “I know you,” I said.
“Most people from these parts do,” she replied, indulgently stepping closer and extending a hand towards me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Shirley. You’re probably very confused right now. Please don’t worry, I’ll answer any and all questions you may have in a moment. First off, is there anything you need?”
“No, I don’t think so. Not right now.”
“Good.” She pulled a chair up to my bedside and sat down. “You suffered an injury earlier today that could have spelled the death of many humans. And it could have ended lethally for you, too, despite your remarkable regenerative abilities. You lost a lot of blood, but as soon as the emergency personnel had you stabilized, you started to recover. You’re already in a pretty solid state. If you want to, you can probably leave tomorrow. Anyhow, we should not let that distract us from the fact that things were looking rather grim there for a minute.”
“Where’s Elijah Carter? Is he alright?”
“Oh yes. He kept his wits about him, surprisingly enough. You were not a pleasant sight from what I’ve been given to understand. He saved your life, you know. He was very insistent on staying with you. Unfortunately, we can’t let just any human come in here, so we sent him home to rest.”
“What is this place?”
“You’re in a small private hospital a little ways out of town. It’s funded and operated by a certain government branch. Remember the people who gave you your papers upon your arrival on earth?”
“The agents?”
“Yes. Seeing as you’re inhuman, we can’t let you be treated at a regular hospital. Not for long at least. If your special circumstances were to be discovered, it’d only raise a panic. You were transported here from the emergency room as soon as we got wind of the incident. And once it was safe to move you, of course.”
“I see,” I muttered, eyeing her attentively. “So you’re with this Agency?”
“Yes. Now, I don’t work as closely with them as most other operatives. My main objective is to keep an eye on public developments, as you might have guessed.” She showed me a badge that honestly didn’t interest me too much. “On TV, I’m a direct representation of what the Agency wants the locals to know. This town has been subjected to so much paranormal activity over the years; I could tell you stories you wouldn’t believe… I’d better not even start, it’ll only get me rambling.
“Either way, I’m largely responsible for shaping the TV landscape and steering it away from risky topics, as it were. The government has integrated quite a lot of supernatural beings around these parts. Don’t judge us for withholding truths from the public. It’s in the best interest of everyone involved, I assure you. The unveiling of the secret identities sprinkled around this and some of the neighboring towns would undoubtedly lead to hysteria and discrimination. You understand, don’t you? Bigger events need to be kept under wraps for obvious reasons, anyways. As for why I’m here, I have a couple questions for you, regarding the attack itself. Do you think you’ll be able to recount it for me?”
I nodded hesitantly. I still felt oddly disconnected from the situation, which made it all much easier to explain. Mary Markov had taken out a tablet and was scribbling down notes as I went along. I told her about the jobs we’d done for the Collective, about the aftermath of the beheading Nettie and I believed to have witnessed and the creepy illusions Eli and I had been subjected to during our first shift. The newsreader listened intently, occasionally stopping me to ask for elaboration. When I ended my retelling, she sat back, a content smile on her face.
“Excellent. This has been very helpful. You should know that we’re investigating the so-called Collective. Normally, any dangerous cult activity would be the police’s concern, but the Agency comes into play when there’s a hint of the supernatural to go along. We believe that this group is conducting informed summoning rituals, the goal of which is yet unclear to us. Don’t worry, you won’t be prosecuted for engaging with them or anything. Not that keeping an entity like yourself in containment would do us any good either way.” She let out a small laugh, regarding me with a pleased expression. “There is, however, a possibility of me reaching out to you again. I’ll keep the details to myself for now, but there could be something in it for you.”
“Sounds mysterious.”
Mary Markov grinned. “Intentionally. You’ll have to wait and see. Maybe I’ll contact you, maybe I won’t. That’s all you get from me for not. Now, if I may, I’ll excuse myself… Are you ready to receive your visitors?”
“I thought you didn’t let anyone in here.”
The newsreader wagged a finger at me. “I said, we don’t let just any humans in here. People whom we’ve provided with the same papers and basic social services as you—that’s something else entirely. We took it upon ourselves to inform your nixie roommate of your whereabouts. You’re an easy individual to keep tabs on, fortunately.” She rose from her seat. “Thank you for your assistance. It’s been a pleasure.” Her heels made the same melodical clicking sound as she headed for the door. Merely a couple minutes after it had fallen shut behind her back, it swung open once more for two familiar figures. Frankie Preston’s hair shone like spun gold in the dim light of my temporary bedroom. Instead of a greeting, he announced himself with the loud pop of gum as he marched over to my side. There was an uneasy energy in his step. His hands were buried in the pockets of his racing jacket. Even so, I could see that they were balled into fists.
“Hello.”
“No Sunshine?”
“What do you think?” he gruffed, not meeting my gaze. “You had your bowels hanging out of your body. You’re now on face-to-face terms with the snake that is your intestine. It literally poked its head out and said hi.”
“Frankie…”
“You nearly died, Evangeline. You know why? It’s because you went to play with a fucking hornet’s nest. You just merrily made your way over to that warehouse and poked a goddamn bear!”
“Fran.”
“I told you not to get involved! Was it all for the money? If you need some, just ask me! I don’t know if it’s occurred to you before, but I don’t exactly live on a server’s pay alone. I can always give you what you need!”
“You’re babbling.”
“Am I? Am I? Eva, I got a visit at work from your roommate today telling me you’d literally been gutted by a masked psychopath. I have been sitting in that waiting room outside for nine hours until these assholes finally let me—” He snapped his mouth shut.
“Nine hours is a really long time,” I remarked.
“I had a book,” he mumbled.
“He actually had. He didn’t read it, is all. Only kept opening and shutting it.” Kit Sutton’s voice rang out from behind him. My roommate was leaning in the doorway, her arms crossed and her shoulders tense. She looked almost too nervous to come closer. Her eyes remained fixed to my stomach, like she was expecting the bandaged wound to suddenly tear open and blood to spray everywhere like in a splatter flick. “Open, shut, open, shut; he was driving me crazy.”
“You stayed here too?”
“Actually, I was around on and off. The boys at the entrance don’t really like me anymore. I checked in every two hours. Nettie sends her love. Well, that and about a thousand questions about how you’re feeling, if you’re okay, how bad it hurts, if you got some rest… You know.” She gave me a wan smile. “She knows you’re alright, and so does Eli; we kept them updated.”
I held her startlingly bright gaze for a long moment, then turned to briefly lock eyes with the server. Kit was afraid, Frankie was furious. Both were out of their minds with worry.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Frankie sighed, the tension fading from his body. He took off his backpack and produced a bag of coconut water. “They said it’s safe for you to eat and drink,” he said, unscrewing it before handing it to me. “Look, none of this is your fault. I don’t know why I’m so testy.”
I shook my head. “I feel like an idiot.”
“You’re not,” Kit told me. “I actually feel sorry for the fool who chopped you up. I wouldn’t want you for an enemy.”
Fran shook his head, curls flying. “Oh, me neither. You’re terrifying.”
Despite myself, I smiled, raising my head a little higher. The two of them spent the night with me in the hospital room. Occasionally, a nurse would come by to check in on us, or to tell us to keep it down since Kit insisted on singing us several new songs she was in the process of developing. Her rendition of Torpedo sex toys eventually got her thrown out. She told me that she’d be waiting at home as the security staff dragged her into the hallway.
When I got tired, I convinced Frankie to act as my mattress again. He gave in after minimal protest. Come morning, he drove me back to the apartment. The car ride didn’t take as long as I’d expected. The agency’s facilities were apparently not too far away from town. Once he’d pulled up in front of the building, he told me to check my cell phone.
Aside from several new texts from Nettie Peterson and Elijah Carter, there was an online banking notification. The waiter had sent me $6.000.
“What the—?” I began, but he reached out to tip my chin up, effectively shutting my mouth.
“It’s not charity,” he explained. “The four dead FunFlair degenerates made me 18.000, and since we practically worked together, it’s only fair that you get half. Remind me to send the rest tomorrow. I didn’t want to risk my account getting blocked or something. I don’t really know how big a lump sum like that is allowed to be.”
I stared at my phone, then back at him. “I’m not sure if I want money that’s been earned that way.”
“You do,” he said comfortably. “And if it stops you putting yourself at risk, then it’s the best thing those goons ever did in their life.” He paused. “Afterlife.”
Despite my reluctance, I had to admit that I could most certainly use that kind of money. It’s odd to think that I’m unemployed and somehow making more than I used to. I said goodbye to Frankie and made my way upstairs. Kit Sutton was expecting me. She’d made pizza—one of the only things she can cook. I was grateful, even though it didn’t exactly make for a light breakfast.
“Actually, Nettie was gonna come. I told her you’d probably like to be alone for the time being,” she explained. “Hope that was okay.”
“Definitely,” I assured her. “To be honest, I don’t want to see anyone right now.”
“Still tired?”
“Immensely. Besides, my ego hasn’t recovered yet,” I admitted, rising to my feet to deposit my plate by the sink. “This has all been so embarrassing.”
“Of course,” Kit replied, rolling her eyes.
I turned on the faucet and picked up a sponge. “I should have been more careful.”
“It’s still not your—”
Fault, was probably what she’d been meaning to say. A loud, rumbling gurgle coming from the faucet interrupted her. The sponge slipped from my fingers when I stood back, staring at the sink with wide eyes. For a moment, no water came out, but when it did, it shot out of the opening with such force that droplets sprayed all over the kitchen counter. It battered the bottom of the sink, causing a harsh and penetrating drumming noise.
“What the actual fuck! Turn it off, turn it off!” Kit bellowed, forced to raise her voice over the chaotic patter.
I hurriedly reached out for the faucet, only to stagger aside when the gurgling noise intensified. A startled shriek died in my throat when I spotted something thick, dark blue and gooey mixing with the surge of water. It looked like it was being gradually washed out of the pipes. More and more of the strange material came forth, clogging the drain and filling the sink, which overflowed mere seconds later. The blue stuff spread out onto the counter, then began dripping down the edge. It hit the floor with a splat, the rest trailing after it with a consistency reminiscent of boiling jelly (I watched Nettie cook some once).
“Oh hell no,” Kit whimpered behind me.
The blue pulp started piling up, gaining a certain amount of rigidity. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Inch by inch, the goo grew, wobbling and quivering. It seemed to vibrate and buzz, bits of it protruding and withdrawing again like some kind of trembling, monstrous sea urchin. Jumping back from one of its elongating spikes, I yelped, tripped and landed on my rear. My heart was beating so rapidly and hard that I was afraid it might shatter my ribcage. This was all going much too fast for me to comprehend. The blob kept writhing and undulating before finally thinning out and taking on a distinctly humanoid shape.
Before us stood a creature, vaguely male in body and appearance. His skin was the color of the midnight sky. His hair was no hair at all, rather closer in resemblance to mud dripping from his scalp. The eyes sitting in his contorted face were large and black, like those of the woman I’d chased along the beach. The expression he wore exuded raw, barely restrained hostility.
“Anh’Chandra.”
His voice was like the hiss of oil in a frying pan. I spotted a glint of sharp teeth behind his moving lips and immediately felt my own gums getting itchy. The only thing that kept the instinct to transform at bay was the pain in my mid-section, a stark reminder of my weakened condition. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Even with fangs bared and tentacles out, I wasn’t in any state for a fight. I would have to force myself, force my exhausted body to jump into a form suitable for defense. I really didn’t want to. Helplessly looking over at my roommate, I found that she’d risen to her feet.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” she growled, glaring at the faucet-man.
“Nahim—”
“Either speak surface or hold your tongue,” Kit Sutton cut him off. “And don’t you fucking dare come closer.”
The newcomer opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearing his throat and taking in a rattling breath. “I be here to warn you,” he choked out, the malice in his tone slightly dampened by his obvious difficulties with the English language. “Your little… play… soon is over.”
“Yeah? I don’t think so. Just because you’ve moved your own ass out of your cave instead of sending servants this time doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind.” There was a tremble in her voice, barely audible but there.
“Soon! Soon beneath again. Soon in the deep again,” the man snarled. “Father has enough with you. Consequences. Bigger. Many die, if not return.”
“It’s always the same with you, isn’t it? Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m not coming. I’m never coming back!”
I had seldom heard my roommate speak with such conviction. Glancing between her and the stranger, I found her firmly holding his gaze. Her lower lip was quivering and her eyes blown wide. As much as she was trying to stay composed, this wasn’t easy for her. I could tell, and so could the creature. His lips twisted into an ugly, mocking smile. “Lying sister,” he uttered. “Fool.”
Sister.
“Eat a dick.”
“You have no choice. Father lay waste to everything. Not long now.”
A chill ran down my spine at his words. The threat was really quite vague; I didn’t know what he was talking about. My imagination readily filled in the gaps, though. This was a declaration of war.
“Go away!” Kit yelled, throwing calmness to the wind. “Get out of my kitchen! Get out of my fucking house!”
The man started laughing; a cold, pearly sound that reminded me of bubbling streams. He turned and reached out to rest a hand in the sink. Then, in one swift motion, the entire form of his body seemed to lose all its rigid stability, liquefying and seemingly getting sucked into the drain. Within the blink of an eye, he’d disappeared, leaving Kit and me staring blankly at the running faucet. When I’d finally regained control over my muscles, I stepped forward and wordlessly turned off the water. Behind me, I could hear Kit begin to cry.
It took me ages to calm her down. Figuratively, of course. I don’t think I’ve been in this position very often, not with Kit. We drove back out to the agency’s facilities right afterwards. We didn’t know precisely who to alert of her brother’s warning, but the first person we got a hold of brought us back to Mary Markov. She sure was surprised to see me again so soon. We probably did the right thing in alarming them. No news coverage has been getting out about this, but Miss Markov has since informed us that underwater microphones have picked up on some very strange noises right ahead of our shore. Something’s brewing out there at sea and I’m pretty sure it’s coming for us.