"This is the only way in and out, and I've been here without a break for hours. I'm sure." She looks more closely at me. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? You look pale."
I snort. "I'm always pale. Thanks, anyway." I walk back to my mother's room and sit next to her bed, ignoring the files the man left. I caress her hand, my thumb running over the mark on her wrist. "What's going on, Mom? What did you do?"
The hospital room feels like it's closing in on me. I can smell his cologne lingering, as if he's still here, lurking, spying, waiting to pounce. I've shut my mind down for now. There's no space in my attention to consider the existence of vampires and demons. To entertain the possibility that my mother is under a curse that will entrap her soul for all eternity and kill her body.
When Tom comes in to check on her, he studies me thoughtfully. "You should get some rest, honey. We'll take good care of her."
I've been up for two days. He's right, I should sleep, but I don't know how. "What if something happens?"
"She looks stable, but we'll call if anything changes. I'm on duty all night, so I'll keep an eye out. Rest. You're no good to her if you get sick."
I nod and grab my bag. My eyes fall to the scroll and folder. I haven't looked at them yet, and I'm not ready to, but I don't want anyone else gaining access to whatever they contain, so I shove them in my bag, lean over and kiss my mom on the forehead, and then quickly leave the room.
I can't wait to escape the hospital, and when a winter storm greets me, I smile. I might freeze to death on the way home, but I love snow. I love the way the world looks when it's covered in white powder. Magical.
The sun has already set and the street lamps cast long shadows over the snowy sidewalks. My breath is white as I exhale, and I round my shoulders and hug myself to preserve what little warmth I have.
While walking through the parking lot to the sidewalk, someone calls my name. I turn and see Fen standing by a black and silver motorcycle. He's already straddling it. "You'll catch your death out here," he says.
I shrug. "It's not so bad." Though I can barely feel my toes or my nose anymore, but whatever.
"Get on," he says, looking at the seat behind him. "I've got an extra helmet."
"Um. I can't. I don't live far. I'll be fine walking." I can feel the hives lurking under my skin at the thought of being on a motorcycle. That's even worse than a car. I take a deep breath.
He cocks his head, but instead of arguing, he takes his trench coat off and hands it to me. "If you insist on walking, at least wear appropriate clothing."
"You're wearing a t-shirt," I say. "That's less than what I'm wearing."
He chuckles. "I'm used to the cold. We get much worse where I'm from. Wear it."
I want to argue, to hand it back to him, but honestly, I'm freezing, and he's already starting his motorcycle. "Be safe, Ari."
Before I can thank him or say goodbye, he's gone. I look down at the trench coat and then pull it on. It's warmed by his body heat and smells like him, a musky woodsy scent that makes me think of tall trees and wind. I luxuriate in the thick wool as it falls to my feet, bringing warmth back into my body.
The walk home is a lot more pleasant now that I'm not freezing to death. I'm lost in thought, enjoying the feeling of the snow crunching under my feet as I walk the familiar path home, when something makes me stop.
It's not a sound. Not really. More that sense of impending doom. Someone is following me again. Is it the man from the hospital? The... I can't even bring myself to call him what I saw him to be. I just need to keep calm and get home. I'll be safe there.
Maybe it's just my imagination playing tricks on me. I haven't slept in so long, I'm probably starting to hallucinate or something. Maybe it's nothing.
But as I walk past the alley next to my apartment unit, someone grabs me and pulls me into the shadows.
I try to scream but a hand covers my mouth. "This will go better for you if you stop fighting."
I bite the hand and hear the man curse, but he doesn't let go. My eyes search around frantically for a way out, for a weapon, for anything. But all I see are two more people dressed in black approaching me. Winter masks cover their faces, and I know they are here for me.
One of them pulls out a needle.
Why not a gun? I slump in my attackers arms and slam the heel of my shoe into his knee. His grip loosens, and I spin in his arms and bring my knee up to make contact with his groin. He slumps over in pain, but it doesn't stop him from pulling me back.
I'm waiting for the others to attack me, but they are distracted by something else. No, someone else.
The two in black are thrown aside like dolls, and I feel the needle jab into my neck just as my eyes lock onto the person who attacked them.