There was nothing to smile about once we got to the hospital.
The Kingussie Sanatorium was a two-story building made entirely of brown stones, and looked like it might crumble at any moment. Inside, the hallways were long and dark, and surprisingly dirty. And not with the kind of dirt you could just clean up, but with grime that looked like it had become part of the walls centuries earlier. Cracked florescent lights, which had probably been added to the ancient structure with the advent of electricity, flickered ominously. Even though it was daylight outside, inside, it might as well have been midnight.
I was relieved to get out of the creepy hallway and into Jo’s room, but only until I saw her. She was lying still, her skin sallow and her cheeks sunken in like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Long, bloody scabs bisected her face. I wasn’t prepared for her to look so bad so quickly. And I definitely wasn’t prepared to see that she was tied down to the bed with wide restraints.
“She kept trying to scratch out her eyes,” her mother explained to us tearfully from the corner. “They finally had to sedate her. She was going wild. All the kids are.”
“How did it happen?” I asked.
“I was hoping you could tell me, Maren,” Mrs. Dougall said through sniffs. “Weren’t you with her? Why aren’t you sick?”
I wondered if I had gotten more than the date rape drug at Anders’ party. Maybe Graham’s antidote had saved me from two horrible fates.
“I was, but she left pretty early to go see her grandmother,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Dougall’s face twisted with confusion. I wondered if lack of sleep and worrying about Jo had made her a little loopy.
“She got a text that her grandmother had a stroke,” I reminded her. “She came to the hospital to see her?”
“Her gran is fine,” Mrs. Dougall said slowly. “We didn’t text her. We found her this morning, lying on the front lawn. When we woke her up, she attacked us. The ambulance workers had to chase her out of a tree.”
I didn’t know what to say; I couldn’t explain it. Had I imagined Jo getting the text? Was that part of my drug hallucination?
“Where’s her phone?” I asked, wanting to prove myself not crazy as much as I wanted to help any investigation find out who had set up Jo.
“We don’t know,” Mrs. Dougall replied. “It’s missing.”
And not by coincidence, I thought grimly.
Twenty-eight other partygoers were in the hospital with the same symptoms. There were originally twenty-nine, but one boy struggled against the staff so fiercely, he bit his tongue in half and drowned in his own blood. Since then, all the patients had been strapped down and sedated.
Gavin excused himself and left me with Mrs. Dougall.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my eyes suddenly swimming in tears. “I didn’t mean to abandon her. I thought . . .”
“Of course you didn’t, dear,” she said, crossing the room and wrapping me in her arms. “It’s not your fault. The police will find out what happened, don’t worry.”
But it was hard not to worry, and even harder not to blame myself. If only I hadn’t let her go. If only I had insisted on going with her . . .
I sat down next to Jo’s bed. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. Her face was a mess. I reached down to squeeze her hand, to let her know I was there. Her skin was ice cold.
I kept Mrs. Dougall company, tried to keep the mood light and my outlook optimistic, but it was hard with Jo lying next to us, looking like she was knocking at death’s door. And my good-friend guilt didn’t make it any easier. I didn’t know if I felt worse that Jo was hospitalized or that I wasn’t.
Stuart arrived to visit Jo, looking healthy but worried. I was glad he was unharmed, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder why. How was he spared? And what happened to him after I left for the bathroom? I never came back, but he never seemed to go looking for me, either. What did he think happened to me? Where had he been?
He wasn’t my guardian, of course. I shouldn’t have expected him to be, or think less of him because he wasn’t. Why couldn’t he have saved Jo, though, like Graham had saved me?
Gavin reappeared in the doorway.
“I promised your gran I’d get you back before dinner,” he apologized.
I stood up, probably too quickly. I was ashamed at how badly I wanted to leave, to be out of the world’s most depressing hospital.
“Say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton for me,” Mrs. Dougall said as we hugged good-bye. “I promise I’ll call you if we hear anything.
The cool outside air helped clear the dank and dust out of my head. As we walked across the parking lot to Gavin’s car, he told me what he’d learned.
“The early toxicology reports are totally clean. Nothing is showing up in the bloodstream of the kids. No drugs, no poison, no substances of any kind,” he said.
“How did you see the toxicology reports?” I asked.
He tossed me a smile that made my heart leap. “Charm will get you far in this world.”
“I know,” I answered. “But how did you get to see them?”
He stopped walking. “You don’t think I’m charming?” he asked. He looked crestfallen, but I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just playing with me.
“I’m sure you could be,” I said. “I just haven’t seen it yet.”
“I guess you haven’t been around me enough, then,” he said with a smile.
Is it possible to be around him enough? I thought. My stomach was full of tiny champagne bubbles.
He opened the car door for me, just as he had in my grandparents’ driveway. It made me feel grown-up and special and almost like we were on a date.
“The High Council knew something might happen in this area; that’s why I was assigned here,” he said as he drove me home. “But they didn’t know what. I guess we do now.”
The High Council. My mom’s letter had been addressed to the High Council. I guess they received reports from agents around the world. I kept quiet, hoping he would keep talking. He did.
“It looks like a faction of jinn demons are testing a new kind of killing, a chemical warfare that poisons the population.”
“Killing?” I thought of Jo. “Will everyone who’s infected die?”
He nodded. “Unless we get an antidote out here quickly, I’m afraid so.”
Antidote. The scrambled ribbon message from my mom’s journal flashed in my brain. Get antidote from Magnificat.
“What’s Magnificat?” I blurted out.
“How do you know that name?”
“I read it in some of my mom’s stuff,” I said. “What is it?”
“It’s a place. Well, more than one place, actually. Magnificat is a safe haven for humans working with angels. There’s one hidden in every major city.”
“Where’s the nearest Magnificat to us?” I asked.
“London. Why?”
“I think my mom was working on this project when she died,” I said quietly. I didn’t know if he would be upset I hadn’t told him earlier, but for Jo’s sake, I felt like I had to tell him now. “She left behind some details . . .”
“Go on.” His face darkened.
“I found an encrypted note that spells out, ‘Get antidote from Magnificat.’” I got excited, realizing we could save Jo and the others—Gavin and me, working together. “She must have meant an antidote for this poisoning program!”
“Hold on a minute,” he said. “Have you shown this stuff to anyone else?”
“No,” I lied. No need to incriminate Hunter just yet.
“What you found is very sensitive, very dangerous information, Maren. You need to be careful.”
“I know,” I said. “But—”
“But nothing,” he interrupted. “I need to go report in with my village. I’ll tell them what you told me, and see what they think is best. In the meantime, I want you to stay home. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Where would I go?” I huffed. I wasn’t used to being bossed around, especially by someone who looked my age. I knew he was technically older than me, but still . . .
I sulked until we pulled up to my grandparents’ house. He parked by the mailbox, and when he turned to me, his expression was unexpectedly soft. He leaned over, crossing the middle of the car and stopping just inches from my face. “If you don’t mind,” he whispered, his voice drawing me even closer, “I’d like to sit outside your window tonight.”
I would have been less shocked if he said he wanted to make out with me. “Why?” I asked, holding my breath, hoping he would try to kiss me.
He pulled away. “I just . . . I just want to make sure you’re safe . . . until we figure out what’s going on.”
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“What?” He feigned innocence.
“You’re serious,” I answered. “You, Mr. I’m-Not-a-Babysitter, are volunteering to be my personal night watchman? What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch.” He tried to look all business, but his eyes said he wasn’t thinking about business at all. There was a hot energy coming off him again—and it was pointed at me. He stammered, “It’s just . . . Well, you do have the information from your mum. Someone should at least protect that.”
I pretended to be hurt. “What about me?”
“I thought you didn’t need protecting,” he said.
“I don’t,” I replied. After breaking my heart and leaving me without warning, he wasn’t getting an all-access roof pass without working for it.
“Please,” he sighed. I was glad I was able to shake him up a little, since he seemed to have no problem messing with my emotions. “For once, can you just try to not be so difficult . . .”
“That’s your idea of convincing me to let you sit outside my window all night? Some sweet-talker.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they seemed bluer than ever before. “Maren,” he pleaded softly, “I would really like to make sure you’re safe tonight. Please.” He slid his strong hand over mine. The heat between us was so intense, my heart threatened to jump out of my chest. It was all I could do to sit still.
“All right,” I exhaled. I didn’t dare move my hand. I didn’t dare move anything. I wanted so badly for him to kiss me, but he just sat there, staring at me. I couldn’t take my eyes off his beautiful lips. I wanted to dive into them. I’d never wanted to do anything as badly as I wanted to kiss him. But there was no way I was going to make the first move.
Please, I silently willed him, just move your head the tiniest bit toward me. I’ll meet you in the middle. I want to kiss you. I want you to want me too!
His gaze bore into me, but he sat completely motionless. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to break the tension before my body turned traitor and I made a fool of myself.
I slipped my hand from under his and swiveled to unlock the car door, turning away from the passion that threatened to suffocate me. I wasn’t going to give in that easily. Not if he wasn’t going to say something first.
“You can sit up there if you want.” I shrugged. “But don’t go peeking in my room or anything.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a sly grin.
Damn!
I couldn’t sleep. The wind screamed around my attic room—an otherworldly wailing that spoke of demons and my mother’s death. Loose shingles rattled against each other with a concrete scraping that made my skin crawl. I imagined a corpse trying to climb out of its coffin. The gale tormented me, not just because I was scared, but because I knew Gavin was right outside, keeping watch on the roof.
Thoughts of him consumed me. Can he be blown off? Is it too chilly? Do angels even get cold? I remembered the warmth of his chest and doubted it.
To calm myself, I rubbed my hands over my new pajamas; I’d been wearing his shirt to bed every night since he’d left it. The fabric still held his scent: a delicious, heady smell like the first spring breeze of the season. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the wind as a gentle thing, not the invisible, deadly force that beat outside.
Something banged overhead and then thumped away like a lopsided coconut. What is going on out there? Did something happen? What if Anders came back for me? I bolted upright.
Gavin was standing at the end of my bed. He put a finger to his lips, silencing the yelp that revved in my throat.
“What are you doing in here?” I croaked.
“Making sure you’re all right,” he whispered. “Your heart was beating a bit wildly there.” I was embarrassed, remembering he could hear it.
“It’s the wind,” I confessed. “Kind of sounds like screaming. I’m not a fan.”
“Och, the wind can’t hurt you.”
“Says the guy who can fly,” I answered. “It’s not the wind as much as the things it carries: large tree trunks, flying cows, demons . . .”
He shook his head. “We’ll be having none of those tonight.”
“Can you maybe make the wind stop, then?” I hoped.
“Sorry, I don’t control the weather.” He smiled, not helping my heart rate one bit.
“What can you control?” I demanded.
“Apparently, not my wardrobe,” he mused. “That’s my shirt you’re wearing!”
I gathered the collar in one hand. “No, it’s not.”
“Aye, it is. You pinched it!” His playful familiarity made my bones turn to liquid. I sunk into the mattress a bit.
“If by ‘pinched’ you mean ‘stole,’ no, I didn’t,” I protested. “You left it here.”
“So we’re agreed, it is mine.”
I shrugged in response. I couldn’t believe he was in my room, in the dark. I was glad I had locked my bedroom door. No adult, no matter how laid back, would let a hot guy inside a girl’s room in the middle of the night. The idea of breaking everyone’s rules started my blood flowing again.
“Now, young lady,” Gavin interrupted my fantasy. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”
I found his old-fashioned terms terribly romantic. I didn’t want him to leave. “I can’t,” I assured him. “I’ve tried.”
A shutter slammed against the side of the house, and I jumped. Between the storm outside and Gavin inside, I was wound up.
“Shhhh, it’s all right,” he soothed. “The way that heart of yours is pounding, I can see why you’re having trouble falling asleep.” He took a few steps closer to the bed. “Is there anything I can do?” The things that came to my mind were a far cry from sleeping . . . “Did your mum have a special trick?” he asked.
“My mom?” I faltered.
“To help you fall back asleep,” he explained. The mention of my mom was as good as a cold shower. Guilt, loneliness, and grief bullied all other emotions away.
Did Mom do something to help me sleep? If she did, why can’t I remember it? Am I that terrible of a daughter, or was she just too involved in her work?
“She wasn’t really touchy-feely.” I blinked back tears.
“Well, when I was a wee angel first on earth, and none too happy about it, one of the elder female angels used to stroke my hair to help calm me down,” he replied. “Worked every time. I could . . .” He motioned to me. “No funny business, of course. This is strictly professional.”
I couldn’t suppress a giggle.
“What?” His eyes widened in defense.
“When you first told me you were an angel, and I said angels helped people sleep, you were all offended, and now, you’re actually . . .” I smiled in spite of myself.
“I don’t have to.” He raised his hands.
“No, please,” I said. “I . . . want you to.”
He sat next to me, resting his back against the worn headboard. Instinctively, I laid my head on his shoulder. He cradled me into his arm. With his free hand, he caressed my temple with short, soft strokes. My body molded into his like we were two halves always meant to make a whole: my knee tucked against his thigh, my arm draped across his stomach, my cheek resting in the swell of his chest. Heaven.
I willed myself to stay awake so I wouldn’t miss a minute of the divine closeness, but the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his heart, and the tender massaging hypnotized me. Serenity engulfed me and I slipped into the deepest, sweetest sleep of my short life.