Within seven minutes of the call, the town was overrun with law enforcement. But in that seven minutes, the Midnighters worked hard. Teacher was positioned with his (perfectly legal, he assured them) shotgun pointing at the invaders, who were sort of walked into a close formation by Quinn. He found it was like moving department store dummies, too, but they were quite a bit heavier.
The Rev put the guns and telephones in a heap in the pawnshop parking area. Bobo and Teacher stood guard. Diederik was sent into Fiji’s house to keep out of sight, since he had no official existence. Sylvester simply stayed in Gas N Go, Madonna and Grady stayed in their trailer, Chuy and Joe in their shop. Manfred, who’d poked his head out just in time to see Fiji take action, closed his front curtains and laid low. The hotel people were all out on the sidewalk, craning and marveling.
Fiji released the imported gunmen from her spell just at the right moment as the police arrived. They all swung around belligerently, confused and angry at having been disarmed and corralled, which they didn’t remember at all. The police asked Teacher and Bobo to put down their weapons, which they did gladly and with every appearance of being glad the police were there to take over the bad guys . . . one of whom was unwise enough to take a swing at Deputy Garcia. She cuffed him in the blink of an eye.
As the police got the situation sorted out, and EMTs began to work on Olivia and Fiji, who was unconscious, Lemuel slept the sleep of the dead. Diederik sat in The Inquiring Mind looking out the window as his dad had ordered him to do. The boy was distraught at the sight of Fiji and Olivia being strapped onto gurneys and lifted into the ambulances. But he could see Quinn was not in handcuffs and the police were listening to him, so Diederik knew at least that part of it would be all right.
“If Olivia’d gotten shot at night,” Quinn said to Bobo very quietly, “we could have just carried her downstairs to Lemuel.”
Bobo looked a little shocked. “Do you think that’s what she’d have wanted?”
Quinn nodded. “I think so. If she gets through this, we’d better ask her.”
“She just has to recover,” Bobo said. “And Feej has to be okay. She just has to.”
“I’ve seen this before. I think she’s exhausted from using such big magic,” Quinn said, trying to sound reassuring. “And she’s never killed anyone before, I’m sure. That’ll take it out of you.”
But Bobo, after he’d been accepted as one of the good guys, sat on the front steps of the pawnshop and stared into a future too bleak to endure.
He tried three times to get into his truck and go to Davy to be with the Midnight wounded, but the police wouldn’t let him. They had too many questions to ask.
30
Fiji woke up in the hospital, shivering and bewildered. I killed someone. That was the first thing she remembered.
He’d been gray-haired and mean-looking, the pleasure and triumph of shooting Olivia still stretching his lips into a smile.
That had sent Fiji off the deep end. It almost didn’t matter that he was about to shoot Fiji, too. She’d unleashed death at him. It hadn’t been a real spell, but sheer will. As she lay in the pale green hospital room all by herself, she wondered where the power had come from. As best as Fiji could remember, she’d simply had a clear, consuming, conviction that this man must die for what he had done to Olivia.
And he had died, but not quickly. His face had turned blue and his mouth had foamed, and he’d screamed with a dreadful catch, as though finding the air for screaming was a struggle. Then he’d kind of rattled deep in his throat. That had been that.
A girl in scrubs came in and bent over to look at Fiji. “How do you feel, Miss Cavanaugh?” she said.
“Cold,” Fiji said through trembling lips.
“I’ll get you another blanket.”
Fiji nodded, and soon felt deft hands spreading another blanket over her. She was so grateful she could have cried.
“Is that better?” the girl asked.
“Yes, thanks. How is my friend?”
“Your friend?”
“The woman brought in same time as me. Been shot.”
“She’s in surgery, but don’t worry about her. She’s got a good doctor working on her. She’s in good hands.”
This was not real information. She was being soothed. Fiji expected that next the nurse would offer to pray with her. “I need something a little more specific than that,” she said, but her voice was too weak to have authority.
“Now that you’re awake, a doctor’s going to come talk with you,” the nurse said. “She’ll be here in just a minute.”