Chapter 32: Licking Wounds - The Night Market

PART V

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The sterile hum of Leroux Tower’s medical floor was a steady chorus of soft machinery, distant footsteps, and the faint hiss of antiseptic sprays. Pepper sat propped on a narrow bed, one arm loosely hugging her midsection. Her skin bore the evidence of the crash – shallow cuts from shattered glass, watercolour bruises beneath her ribs.

A young doctor with half-moon glasses and an immaculate coat stood over her, tapping details into a tablet.

‘The good news is that your scans are clear,’ he said, tone even but not unkind. ‘No breaks, no cracks. You do have a contusion along the abdominal wall – bruised muscle, some inflammation. Painful, but not dangerous. And most importantly, no internal bleeding. I’m prescribing ibuprofen for inflammation and a muscle relaxant for the tightness. Ice the area when you can, no heavy lifting, and try not to twist too much. You’ll be sore for a week or two.’

Pepper nodded, half listening. The words you’ll be fine meant less than he thought they did. She flexed her fingers, the tremor still there. She gave her thanks. The doctor gave her a polite smile before moving on to the next room.

When the door slid shut, the silence felt too loud. She sat there for a while, staring at her reflection in the black of the powered-down monitor opposite her bed – dishevelled hair, dried blood on her forehead, the faint tracks of tears she didn’t remember shedding.

She sniffed. Took a breath. It emerged staggered.

Then came the sound of slow, uneven footsteps – deliberate, dragging slightly with each step.

Laik appeared in the doorway, his right arm resting upon his abdomen. His black button-up shirt hung open, revealing his chest as well as his injuries; his midriff was bound tight with bandages and there were sutures upon his ribs. The collar of his shirt was stiff with blood from his neck wound, and the gash on his head was stitched. An eye was partially closed and the socket swollen and purple. But despite the staff begging him to rest further, Laik had demanded that he saw her.

He gave a lopsided grin that barely held together.

‘Hey.’

She managed to formulate a shaky smile.

‘Hey.’ She sniffed.

Laik drummed his fingers on the doorframe. ‘You wouldn’t believe it, but I crashed my car. There was this woman in the passenger seat who was going on and on and—’

‘Can we not?’ Pepper weakly lifted her head to him, desperately trying to keep it together. It cut him off, mid-sentence. ‘Not, like, do whatever this is? Just for the moment?’

Laik abandoned the pretence and strode in with the ghost of a limp, before wrapping his arms around her. She leaned forward, resting against his chest.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

‘I just . . . hurt my stomach, is all.’

Laik paused, his question muffled by her clumped hair.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘No,’ she sniffled, unfazed by his body’s warmth against her face and the scent overwhelming her, ‘I’m not. You?’

‘Same. They want me to stay for a couple of nights, keep an eye on me. I got worked over pretty bad. Still here though.’

Pepper nodded against him.

Neither spoke further. They stayed that way for a while, holding on to one another, both pretending they didn’t need it as much as they did. His grip wasn’t tight, but there was a weight to it, the kind that said I’m here without making promises it couldn’t keep. Her fingers pressed against his warm skin indicated she had no intention of leaving. He closed his eyes as he caught the scent of her shampoo. Her attempt to withhold a sigh woefully failed.

When Reese poked around the doorframe, the pair quickly detached, with Pepper scrubbing at her eyes and Laik unsure where to put himself. Her short hair was pulled back and eyes softened by something that might’ve been concern.

‘Finally,’ she said, a crooked grin tugging at her mouth. ‘Glad to see you in one piece. I figured it’d take more than a wreck to put you out of action.’

Laik took a deep breath, massaging a sore wrist.

‘Thanks.’

‘I wasn’t talking to you, dumbass.’ Reese pouted. ‘Anyhow, I figured you would both like to know he’s awake.’

Reese led the way, throwing glances back at them every so often to make sure Laik wasn’t about to collapse. Pepper walked beside him, her arm looped through his without comment. He didn’t shake her off. Together they moved down the corridor, her free hand pressed lightly against her abdomen.

The door to Swan’s room was half-open. The smell of disinfectant and stale coffee drifted out.

Inside, Swan sat propped up in the bed, the upper half of his head wrapped in a neat bandage, one eye slightly puffed but still glinting with that unkillable spark. A drip was in an arm, a machine measuring the dosage beeping to itself. When he saw them, there was a look of obvious relief.

‘Well,’ he rasped, voice roughened by the impact and whatever they’d given him to dull the pain, ‘ain’t I lucky to get visitors? What’s up, Laik, you disappointed to see me kicking so you can’t rob my watch?’

Laik smirked, lowering Pepper into a chair beside the bed. ‘Hardly. I wanted to see what it took for you to miss all the drama. How bad is it? Or was it just your ego that got broke?’

Reese moved past them both and poured a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table, handing it to Swan. ‘Doctor says you’ll live,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately.’

‘Tragic,’ Swan muttered, taking a sip. He handed the cup to her and winced as he leaned back.

‘Just glad it wasn’t worse,’ Laik flatly added, making it known if he wanted a follow-up then he’d be disappointed.

‘Talking of worse, you look a state.’

‘Yep. All kinds of pretty. Might get a couple of new scars if I’m lucky.’

When Swan finally looked Pepper’s way, his grin faltered. The woman sat quietly. Her face was pale in the sterile light, and she hadn’t said a thing since they’d entered. In fact, she seemed a world away.

‘You alright, kid?’

She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

Reese crossed her arms, putting her weight against the counter. ‘You took a hit. Shock’ll do that. Give it time.’

They all waited.

‘What do you both remember about the crash?’ Pepper put to them all.

‘Him shooting. Barging me into the barrier.’ Laik leaned on the chair back for support, wincing.

‘And then?’

‘Horus, uh . . . getting the better of me.’

Pepper folded her hands together.

‘And Quinn?’

‘Nothing really. I heard them scrapping but I was pretty out of it.’

‘Same,’ Swan added, ‘busy sleeping. Why?’

‘I saw it,’ she said finally, the words brittle. ‘I was on the grass. I couldn’t move, it was hard to breathe – but I saw everything. Quinn and Horus.’ Her voice wavered slightly. ‘She . . . she wasn’t herself. The things she did . . . I don’t even know how to describe it. It wasn’t fighting. It was something else. Like she’d pulled the night into her hands and just – bent it. Swallowed everything in black and was just . . . everywhere one minute, nowhere the next . . . vanishing. And the fire was . . . was just . . . moving. Horus, he – he couldn’t hit her, he had this – this knife and he always missed. She was, like, toying with him, I’m sure of it.’

‘I think that’s the concussion talking.’ Reese glanced at Laik with concern, but his eyes stayed on Pepper. She became defensive when she noticed.

‘No. Have you never seen Quinn like that? Is that not a normal thing?’

‘I don’t know what that actually is, you’re not making much sense . . .’ Reese looked just as confused as concerned.

‘What are you trying to say?’ Laik’s words firmed.

Pepper wrapped her arms around herself, the movement small, uncertain.

‘She frightens me,’ Pepper whispered. ‘She really does.’

Laik shifted forward. ‘I don’t doubt you. I don’t know what you saw, or think you saw. I’m not judging,’ he said quietly. ‘But she did save our lives. We should focus on that for the time being.’

‘I know what I saw, Laik.’

‘I get that.’ He looked to Reese who seemed to have most of the answers. ‘Which room is Quinn in? I’ll go and say hello.’

Reese was cautious. ‘She’s not. She wasn’t treated down here. Medics said she refused help, went straight upstairs. Presumably back to her floor.’

Swan exhaled through his nose. ‘So, she’s walking around, after all that?’

‘Apparently.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘I guess.’

The room fell quiet, save for the faint rhythmic beep of the equipment by Swan’s bed – steady, insistent, like a clock counting down to something none of them wanted to face. Swan’s eyes shifted in realisation before he asked.

‘What happened to Horus?’