Who Needs Enemies

“Ten to fifteen, minimum.” Lyle shrugged. “As you noted, he killed four people when he hit that helicopter.”



“I know. I just don’t think it was a deliberate act on his part. Can you please hassle the cops about those tests again?”



He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, coming dangerously close to burning his eyebrows. “Okay, okay.”



“Good.”



In the meantime, I might find out where on Springvale Road the Ibis Hotel was, and see if I could find Numar there. Maybe he could give me some answers.



The rest of the trip was spent in silence. Lyle stared out the side window, every now and again raising the cigarette to his lips and puffing the smoke out the window. It made me think about anger burning so deep it poisoned your thoughts. Made me wonder if perhaps Lyle had slipped beyond love and into the realms of obsession.



The ogres had pinched my parking space yet again, forcing me further up the street. Their roars could be heard clearly over the booming noise of the TV as we approached the house, a combination that was practically deafening. It was a wonder Delilah wasn’t complaining. I glanced toward her place, and saw her car was missing. Maybe she’d given up and headed off to find new souls to hassle.



“Fuck it, Harriet, when are you going to do something about those ogres?” Lyle’s voice held more than a hint of distaste. “They practically live at your place.”



Amusement twitched my lips as I led the way into the house. “Only in the football and cricket seasons.”



“So, what, you get two or three months to yourself?” He snorted. “You need to put your foot down more.”



“I would, but their feet are bigger than mine.”



“This is no laughing matter,” he said sternly. “Your house is in danger of becoming half-way house for the community’s dregs-”



“Hey,” I said, giving him a sharp look. “They’re my friends. I don’t care how pissed off you are at the world at the moment, don’t insult them.”



Lyle held up his hands. “No insult meant.”



Oh yes he had. But I let it slide and made my way down the hall to the living room. Guy greeted us with a grin and raised a can of beer. “It’s Curly’s,” he said. “And I called Kristo about the front door. He’s down the street, choosing a new lock.”



“Tell him I want it installed before Christmas.”



I headed up to the loft. Ceri wouldn’t arrive until night fell, so the large room was shadowed and quiet.



“You do all this yourself?” Lyle stopped in the doorway and looked around.



“Well, with some help from the dregs.” I grabbed my camera and a few memory cards.



“I said I was sorry.” Then he frowned. “You going somewhere?”



“Yeah, I’ve got an appointment I forgot about. Bloody wedding photos.” Why I felt it necessary to lie, I wasn’t entirely sure.



For once, he didn’t seem to detect it. “Reduced to taking wedding photos.” He shook his head, a mix of amusement and disdain in his expression. “That is a sad state of affairs.”



“Hey, it pays the bills, so don’t knock it.” I picked up the wedding sampler book and a couple of my photography business cards from the spare desk just to flesh out the lie. “You want to come?”



“I could think of nothing more boring—except, possibly, listening to the ogres give a blow by blow description of a game two hours after it had finished.”



“Nothing is that boring.” I shoved everything into a carry-all and hoisted it over my shoulder. “I should be back by six.”



It was just before three now, so that gave me just over two and a bit hours to find the Ibis and hopefully get some answers from Numar.



Lyle nodded. “I might go down and cheer on the Dockers. That should piss the ogres right off.”



I grinned. “It certainly will. They hate the interstate sides, and Guy’s bet on Essendon.”



“Should make for an interesting afternoon then. You got any whiskey laying about?”



I hesitated. I really didn’t want him any drunker than he already was, but there was little point in refusing given the hotel was within easy walking distance—it was one of the reasons Guy had purchased the house three doors down from mine. Two suppliers of beer within easy reach was the closest thing to ogre heaven imaginable.



“There’s half a bottle in the cabinet above the laundry sink.”



Lyle nodded. I headed back down the stairs and out to my car.



The Ibis was easy enough to find. It was situated just down from Canterbury Road, and was an L-shaped, glass and concrete affair. It wasn’t exactly pretty, but then, I’d always been a fan of old style architecture rather than new.



I stopped in the car park and made my way inside. Two people manned the reception desk, one female and one male. I headed towards the male, not only because he wasn’t currently helping anyone but because siren magic was gender specific. It worked with the wielder’s sexual orientation. I preferred the opposite sex, so it wouldn’t work on females.



He greeted me with a smile warm enough to touch his brown eyes. “Welcome to the Ibis. How may I help you?”



I returned his smile, and backed it with a touch of siren magic. “I’m here to see Numar Boyd—could you tell me if he’s still staying here or not?”



“Just let me check.” He did some typing and, after a moment, met my gaze again, “According to our records, he was supposed to have left yesterday, but extended his stay at the last moment. Would you like me to ring him and inform him you’re here?”



I applied a little more magical influence. I knew well enough he wasn’t supposed to give me the information I was about to ask for. “Could you actually just tell me his room number?”



He frowned, so I hit him a little harder with siren mojo. He blinked and glanced down at the screen. “It’s room four-thirteen.”



“Oh, brilliant.” I hesitated. “And a key?”



He produced one immediately. “There’s nothing else I can do for you?”



“No. Thanks.” I gave him another smile and headed for the lifts, but didn’t actually release him until the doors were closing behind me.



There was a ‘do-not-disturb’ sign hanging on room four-thirteen’s door. I ignored it and knocked. There was no response, so I knocked again. Silence continued to greet me. I shoved the key in the lock and opened the door—and was knocked backward by the stench of alcohol and vomit. I swore softly and hurried inside.



Numar was sprawled on the bed, half undressed and on his side, his skin pale, with vomit covering the pillows and floor around him. I ran around the bed, avoiding the stinking puddles as best I could, then leaned over and pressed two fingers against his neck. He had a pulse, but it was as irregular as his breathing.



I swore again, then grabbed the phone and called for an ambulance. I made a second call to the front desk to let them know what was happening and, thankfully, it didn’t take too long for either the management or the ambulance to arrive. Numar was quickly whisked off to hospital. I gathered his wallet and some fresh clothes then followed, and spent the next hour anxiously pacing the waiting area, hoping like hell he was going to be okay. Eventually, a nurse appeared and I took a half-step towards her.



“Harri Phillecky?” Her gaze met mine, one eyebrow raised in query.



I nodded. “Is Numar okay?”



“He will be, but we’re keeping him overnight, just to be sure.”



Relief slithered through me. I didn’t know Numar all that well, but he’d seemed a decent enough bloke the few times we’d met. I knew Keale thought the world of him. “Is he awake? Can I talk to him?”



She hesitated, and glanced at her watch. “If you’re quick. We’re hoping to transfer him to a bed in the next five or ten minutes, and he'll need to rest after that.”



“That would be great, thanks.”



She nodded and led the way past several curtained off cubicles before stopping at one and pushing the curtain aside. “Remember, you can’t stay too long.”



“I won’t,” I said, and went in.



Numar was wearing a blue hospital gown and sitting upright, and looked even more washed out than he had when I’d found him. Although he—like most dragons—was on the skinny side, his face looked almost emaciated, as if he’d been drained of almost all his bodily fluids.



“Harri,” he said, voice on the raw side, “I’m told you were the one who found me.”



“Yeah, and stinking mess you were, too.” I propped myself on the end of the bed and dumped his fresh clothes beside me. “What the hell did you and Keale do last night?”



He scrapped a hand through still matted hair, a touch of confusion crossing his pale features. “I don’t really know. Drink, obviously, but I can’t tell you where or when because it’s all a blur. Hell, I can’t even tell you what I was doing before I met him.”



Which suggested he’d been drinking before they’d met. I thought you were supposed to fly home yesterday?”



“Yeah, I was.” He gave me a grin that was little more than a ghost of its usual self. “But I met a stunning blonde with the most beautiful blue eyes in the bar the night before, and we hooked up.”



“Was she also at the conference?”



He shrugged. “Don’t think so. She was just at the bar having a drink and I decided to chance my luck. Couldn’t believe it when she all but fell into my arms.”



I smiled. “Meaning women don’t usually fall so readily into your arms?”



“Well, not women who looked that classy.” He grimaced. “Unfortunately, I only know her first name—Mandy—and forgot to ask for her phone number when she left at ten past eight this morning, so unless she’s downstairs again, there won’t be a repeat performance.”



I snorted softly. “You almost died of alcohol poisoning, and you’re worried about a repeat performance with a blonde?”