Chapter 10 - Fates, Fins, and Fangs

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I had a clinical rotation at the local hospital. It was a rough day, trying to pay attention to my clinical supervisor, learn stuff, and not zone out thinking about how I'd slept with not one, but two hot guys last night. You know, at the same time.

I managed, somehow. But I found myself taking way longer than usual to do my notes. My clinical supervisor stopped by the nurses' desk to give me a prune-faced stare from under her mop of graying blond hair. "You've gotta do your paperwork faster than that, if you want to survive in the real world, kid." She pulled out a swivel chair and logged into one of the documentation stations, not even looking at me as she added, "room 301 wants another pillow, and room 315 probably needs you to empty their emesis bin again. Either that, or they missed this time and you'll need to find a custodian." She waved me away and I closed my laptop with a sigh. I had tons of documentation to do, both for the hospital and for my school classes. But she had real work to do. I didn't remind her that I wasn't a nursing assistant. She had to sign off on my paperwork or I wouldn't pass the class. So, kiss ass it was.

I went and made sure all the patients in our hall were taken care of. Thankfully, 315 hadn't missed the basin, so I didn't need to clean up vomit. Just empty it. That certainly got my mind off everything that had happened last night.

I had a stupidly weak stomach, for someone who wanted to take care of sick people. Holding back my gag reflex in front of patients was a daily struggle.

I hit the restroom and washed my hands for a third time, just to be sure. Ever since starting my clinical rotations, I never really felt clean until I was home where I could scrub the day away with lemon-scented soap and scalding hot water.

I had just managed to regain my good mood, helped along by the memory of amethyst eyes and soft kisses, of a hungry green gaze and a big pair of hands that played my body like a well-loved instrument, when I stepped into the hall and slammed right into a solid male body. One that smelled distinctly like rot.

I steadied myself against the plastic handrail on the wall and glared at the idiot who thought it was a good idea to barrel down hallways in a freaking hospital, where there were often frail people up and about getting physical therapy.

The guy was dressed in expensive clothes, and he had the potential to be decent looking. But he was a mess, every bit of him wild and sloppy. Thrown together. His brown hair stuck up in whorls and spikes. And his blue eyes were bloodshot. He wore a long, rumpled wool trench coat that was too warm for the season. His hands shook, and he gave me a maniacal grin, eyes lighting in pleasure as he grabbed my arm, his dirty yellow nails digging into my upper arm like claws.

"There you are!" he said happily. "Knew you were here somewhere. I could smell his taint."

I raised my eyebrows. He was going around smelling taints? Wow...my first real-life drug addict. Or maybe he was just off some very important meds.

"I'm sorry," I said in my best placating, unimportant student voice. "I don't know you, and I'm only a trainee. But maybe we can find someone else to help."

I tried to move, to drag him back down the hall, through the double doors and closer to the nurses' station, where someone could stop whatever bad thing was about to go down.

Because my creepo radar was blaring at full volume. This guy wasn't just nutty. He was dangerous. I knew it somehow, deep in my bones. He wouldn't budge though, and I was afraid to really try to wrench my arm out of his grip, in case it set him off and he pulled a gun or something.

I might have watched one too many crime shows. This was Ontonagon, after all. The city was growing bigger all the time, but crime was almost miraculously non-existent.

The guy reached into his jacket pocket and I braced myself, preparing to rip away and run if he pulled a gun, or a knife, or syringe, or something. But I calmed when he simply waved an envelope in front of my face. It was made of creamy paper and sealed with an old-fashioned red wax seal. "You give this to him."

I took the envelope and pasted on a fake smile. "Sure. Um...who am I supposed to give it to? Do you have a family member here?"

He gave me a shake that rattled my teeth, and leaned in close. My vision did that weird, shimmering thing again, and I swallowed down a scream. His face was an oozing mess of rotting flesh and needle-sharp teeth. Crazed red eyes flashed at me as the thing in front of me growled. "White, he calls himself here. Derek fucking White." He shook me again. "You give him my letter, little girl. Chaos is coming." He cackled in my face. "And it’s going to destroy his world."

My heart was racing in my chest. I didn't know what I was seeing, what was happening. Only that it was going to stop, right fucking now. I ripped my arm from his grip, planted my hands on his chest, and shoved. Something pulsed deep inside me, and the psycho stumbled back, slamming against the wall. Hard.

Reality shimmered as his crazed red eyes widened in surprise, then he threw his head back, a loud, hair-raising cackle pouring out of his decaying lips. I stepped back, my head throbbing.

"Tell him I'm coming for him," the crazy guy said. Then he pulled himself off the wall and hunched over. "Oww...crap lady, why'd you shove me? I just asked for help."

I blinked at him in confusion, the real world returning. He looked normal again. Like a guy who'd had a rough night, sure, but not like some half-rotted hell creature.

"Troya!" My clinical supervisor was half-shouting at me, her voice full of outrage. I watched in disbelief as she and a nursing assistant each got an arm under the guy and helped him toward a sitting area across from the nursing desk that was reserved for visitors. "How could you? I think it's time you go home. And don't come back for your rotation tomorrow. Not until I speak with your school."

I swallowed the anger that wanted to rise up. She thought I'd just assaulted someone. She couldn't see what he really was. Of course she couldn't. Because she wasn't fucking hallucinating, like I was.

I squeezed my hands into fists as I spun around, belatedly realizing I still held the envelope. It crinkled in my hand and I stared down at it through a sheen of angry tears. Whatever had happened had probably just caused me to fail my clinical rotations, maybe gotten me kicked out of nursing school all together. I glared at the name scrawled across the stupid envelope.

Derek White.

I knew who he was, of course. Everyone did. I'd even met the man a few times in passing, since he sometimes hired Gesa for private security jobs. They were friends, though I had always thought there was something weird about their relationship.

I guess I was about to get to know him better. Because if he had just cost me my internship and my shot at my nursing degree, I was going to fucking kill him with my bare hands.

Even if he was intimidating as shit. I shivered.

I grabbed my stuff and rushed onto the elevator, jabbing buttons and rocking up and down on the balls of my feet impatiently. Why the hell did some crazy stranger think I had anything to do with Derek Owns-The-Whole-Town White? How had he somehow connected me to the millionaire who owned entire hotels, and casinos, and schools, and...who the heck knew what else?

I should call someone. Maybe tell Gesa, since she was friends with the scary rich guy. Or I could call Rhys or Chike and at least have someone with me. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, nearly tearing a whole in the tender flesh before the elevator reached the ground floor.

Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I let my fingers hover over the screen. Then I took a deep breath and nodded firmly. I touched the screen and held the phone to my ear. Thank whatever gods existed, Gesa picked up on the third ring.

"Where does Derek White live?" I said in greeting.

She huffed at me. "Why do you suddenly need to know where that asshole lives?"

I huffed right back at her. "Listen. I've had a long day. I have something for him. I need to know where to take it."

I could practically see her rolling her eyes. "Just come over here and I'll call him. I can go with you if I absolutely have to. But you will owe me. Big time."

I ground my teeth together. "I don't need an escort, Gesa. I know you're friends with the guy. Why can't I just drop something off in his mailbox real quick?"

She snorted. "Because you don't know him like I do. If you did, I'm not so sure you'd want to go anywhere near him."

I made my way through the small parking garage to my car, my gaze darting around in a paranoid way as I searched every shadow for weird red-eyed monsters. "What are you saying? All those rumors about him being a mafia boss are true?"

He was big, grumpy, and intimidating, and he exuded this kind of...dark aura. But scary as he was, I doubted he really hired hitmen and crap. For starters, Gesa wouldn't put up with him if he was that kind of evil.

Gesa groaned. "As much as it really, really pains me to say it...he's a good guy. But I still don't think you should go visiting him randomly."

I knew she was right. It was a crazy idea. Why would I just show up at some millionaire's door all by myself and hand him an envelope given to me by a crazy person who may or may not have triggered me to hallucinate? Sounded legit insane.

I fumbled with my keys, but finally managed to get my car unlocked and slid inside, quickly locking up behind me. "Look," I said tiredly. "I just have an envelope for him. I can put it in his mail slot, or hand it to that hot secretary of his. Then he can tell you all about how weird your nerdy friend is. End of story."

"I could just refuse to tell you. But then, you'd probably find some other way to end up right in his path." She huffed, but relented. "He lives in a penthouse above his casino. Just go to the casino and tell the front desk person you have something to leave for him."

I stared up at the roof of my car and shook my head. Of course he lived in a casino. "Right. Thanks."

"Troy?" Gesa's voice lost its usual rough edge. "Are you, uh...okay? Anything you need to talk about?"

I let out a shaky breath. "I'm fine. Probably. Just over-stressed and over-worked. Weird shit has been going on lately. I promise I'll tell you all about it next time I see you."

Or...maybe not. What if you were sleeping with your best friend's adopted sort-of son? What kind of slutty friend did that make me? Sure, Gesa was a lot older than me, and Chike was her son on paper only. I got the feeling there was more to that story than they were sharing. But still...it was weird.

I hung up and started the car, trying to focus on the road, and not on the weird, intermittent shimmers that wanted to flicker at the edges of my vision. Stress. That was it. I was just having a stress-induced mental breakdown. A little rest and I'd be back to normal.

I glanced at the harmless looking envelope that sat on the passenger's seat. For some reason, it felt like it was a poisonous snake, rather than a little piece of paper and wax.