Feuds Page 19

  “Yes, we do need to talk,” he agreed. “Come into my study, where we can be alone.” He glanced down the hall with a wry smile, and Davis saw Fia’s form darting around the corner, away from her hiding spot. She couldn’t help smiling, even though her entire body was trembling from adrenaline and fatigue. “I’m not angry,” her father began as he settled into the leather wingback chair opposite his desk. “It’s clear that you’re a victim in this.”

  “Dad,” Davis said, cutting him off. “This isn’t about Cole. I mean, I need to talk to you about something else.” His eyes narrowed at the familiarity with which she uttered Cole’s name, but she forged ahead anyway. “People are disappearing,” she started, allowing the words to tumble out, hoping they made sense. “Dying. There’s a disease, Narxis. Parson Abel is covering it up.” She glanced at her father’s face for a reaction; he was staring at her, eyes wide, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “There are Prior bodies lining the Slants, I can show you—”

  “You went into the Slants?” Splotches of red appeared on his neck and cheeks.

  “Dad, I can take you there! I can show you I’m telling the truth. It’s a disease, it’s spreading fast, and Parson is making up rumors, blaming the Imps and dumping the bodies. And…” She trailed off, looking at her hands, which were damp and clasped tightly in her lap. She whispered the last part. She could hardly bring herself to say it aloud. “I might have the disease. I think I have Narxis.”

  “What?” Her father was on his feet again. He kneaded his jaw with his right hand, clearly struggling to keep calm. “Davis, these are serious allegations—”

  “I know. But I’ve seen it.”

  He sighed, rubbing his forehead. “That’s another issue. The idea of you wandering over there by yourself—but it must have been that boy. We’ll deal with that later. What you’re saying now—you feel ill?”

  “I think it might be Narxis,” she said again. “I’ve been dizzy. Weaker. Nauseated. Tom Worsley said it’s contagious, and some of the ballerinas have been missing—”

  “Tom Worsley? Who…? Never mind. If what you’re saying is true—if Parson’s really covering up some sort of … epidemic … I’ve got to expose him. I have to do something.”

  “I can take you to the bodies,” Davis said, leaning forward. She was growing more animated, her words tumbling out faster. This was how she’d hoped he’d react. This was exactly what she’d hoped for.

  But he whirled on her. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” he said firmly. “You’re sure as hell not going back into the Slants. I don’t know how you got involved with these people, Davis, but it’s only brought this family pain.” Davis reeled back as if she’d been slapped, but her dad continued, barely noticing. “No. What you need is to stay safe. You need medical attention if you’re not feeling well. We’ll go now.” He jabbed his left palm with his right index finger for emphasis. “We’ll get you to the best doctors. Then I’ll worry about the rest, with Parson.”

  “But Dad, I already have a plan—”

  “Davis!” He raised his voice, was practically yelling at her. He almost never yelled; it caught her off guard. “It is up to me to make these decisions, not you.”

  “But—”

  “No!” He leaned toward her, his face growing red. “You will listen to me. I know what’s best for you. My decision is final. I will escort you to the car. Frank will follow with a bag for you.”

  “You’re not even letting me pack my own stuff?” Davis heard herself matching his tone and pitch, and it was an unfamiliar feeling. They were outright fighting; his voice was loud and her face was streaked with tears.

  “No. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until I’m certain you’re safe.”

  Just then, the door to the study inched open. Terri’s head poked around the corner, looking ashen.

  “What’s all this?” she asked. “Robert, why are you arguing? Fia’s frightened.”

  “Please take Fia to her room, Terri,” he responded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Davis and I are headed to the hospital.” Terri drew in a breath, and her eyes widened in alarm. “She’s fine,” her father reassured Terri. “We just have to visit a doctor. But everything will be okay.”

  He didn’t sound convincing to Davis, but Terri just nodded, moving farther into the room. “Davis, sweetheart,” she started, moving toward Davis as if to hug her. Instinctively, Davis took a step back. What if she was contagious?

  “Terri.” Her father sounded tired. “We’re okay in here. Can you get Fia?” Sure enough, Fia’s diminutive form had wriggled its way around Terri and into the room. Fia stared up at Davis with plaintive eyes, and Davis gave her what she hoped was a comforting grin. Every part of her wanted to reach out and wrap her sister in her arms, but she knew she couldn’t. She steeled herself, keeping away. If Narxis was real, it wasn’t worth the risk. Fia had to stay healthy and safe. Her father got on his DirecTalk and paged one of his security men. Fia gave Davis a little wave, then allowed herself to be led from the room. Davis collapsed back in her own leather chair, overwhelmed by fatigue. She felt as if she couldn’t stand up ever again.

  She didn’t have to; a moment later, her father watched as James, one of his security personnel, hoisted Davis’s arms around his shoulders and carried her to the elevator and down to the car park and into the waiting car. Her father would immediately follow, he’d said. Davis didn’t care anymore. Every step she took toward the car was a step away from Cole. She just had to regain her strength, and then she’d figure something out.

  * * *

  The hospital suite was large and luxurious, nearly twice the size of her bedroom at home and located on an upper floor, high above the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an astounding view of Columbus, its buildings rising impressively in the distance. Davis could barely make out the river and the Slants. It felt like it was on another continent. The suite was more akin to a hotel than a hospital, with a plush carpet and a real bed with a down comforter instead of the standard hospital beds she was familiar with from the time she had visited Fia long ago.

  Still, it was frightening. It was an atmosphere of germs and disease.

  She knew her father had pulled out all the stops to make sure she was comfortable, but somehow it made her feel worse, knowing this sort of luxury wasn’t available to everyone. She paced like a caged animal. For the past several hours, physicians had let themselves in and out of her room every few minutes to run tests and check her vitals. Still, no one could tell her exactly what her condition was—exactly how bad. She had to do something. She was supposed to go meet Cole. Her father had just stepped out for a meeting with Frank. This was the moment; she might not have another chance.

  “Miss Morrow?” A pretty young nurse just a few years older than Davis and clad in a skirt suit entered the room. She wouldn’t have known the girl was a nurse at all if it weren’t for the stethoscope dangling from her neck. All the nurses wore plainclothes now, rather than the scrubs they’d still worn when Fia was in the hospital as a toddler. The nurse smiled in a friendly way, and Davis forced herself to return the smile. She had to act normal—she couldn’t put anyone on high alert. “Do you mind lying in the bed? This is the last of it for the evening; then we’ll let you get some rest.”

  “For the evening,” Davis repeated. “So I’m staying here all night?”

  The nurse looked surprised. “Well, yes. Didn’t the doctor tell you? You’re being held for observation.” Davis tried hard to conceal her panic. She forced herself to nod calmly and smile back at the nurse.

  “Right,” Davis said, climbing back atop the bed and allowing the nurse to tape a thin, circular monitor to the space just above her heart. “Of course, I knew that.” As the nurse bent over her, squinting at the digital monitor taped to her chest, her laminated ID badge—affixed to the lower pocket of her green scrubs shirt—knocked against Davis’s leg. The nurse went on checking the readings, pausing to make notes in her digi
tal tablet. Davis wasn’t sure yet how the ID would come in handy, but when the nurse was squinting at her tablet, she shifted her hand slightly to the left and unclipped the ID badge, sliding it under her thigh, where it burned like a brand until the nurse left the room, oblivious to what Davis had done.

  Davis waited five minutes to make absolutely certain no one was coming back. Then she edged the ID from under her leg and clipped it onto her own shirt, hoping desperately no one would notice the name. Her dad and Frank would be back soon—probably in fifteen or twenty minutes. It was a small window, and it was by no means safe, but she had to go for it. Davis tiptoed silently to the door, adjusting the badge so it was visible but not prominent. She eased the door open and scanned the hall. The secretary’s desk was fully staffed, but Davis knew there were two glassed-in offices with computers just a few yards farther down the hall, between their station and the guest elevators.

  She didn’t have time to think. She squared her shoulders and walked down the hall, hoping none of the secretaries had been working when she’d checked in. Clearing their desk area, she eased open the door to one of the offices and slid inside. She sat at the single computer—it looked like it was an office belonging to one of the cardiac residents, judging by the paperwork, envelopes, and other paraphernalia spread in a mess alongside the computer. Davis’s back prickled; she didn’t like not being able to see who walked by. But then, it meant they couldn’t see her either. She tapped the front of the computer screen, and the monitor lit up. The words ID NUMBER and PASSWORD flashed insistently against the screen.

  Davis panicked. She fumbled for the stolen badge, hoping desperately. There was an employee ID listed beneath the blond girl’s picture: 02157FLEET87. Davis typed it in. PASSWORD would be more difficult. Taking a wild guess, she typed in “Mount Columbus Guest,” a phrase that was scrawled in pen on a notepad amid the clutter. The screen flashed once, then went dark. Trembling, Davis hoped she hadn’t somehow triggered an alarm. Then the welcome screen flashed on, and she could again breathe easily. Kind of.

  Davis didn’t know what she was looking for, not at all.

  Seeing a tab for “patients,” she clicked. She typed in Emilie’s name, and her friend’s information flashed across the screen. Davis scanned it quickly, her anxiety levels ratcheting all the while. Emilie had died. Somehow she had known it all along, but this was the first time she was officially facing the fact. She forced herself to read on. Emilie’s cause of death was listed as “unknown.” But her time of death was clearly stated as being forty-eight hours after she’d been brought in. Davis clicked off that screen and repeated the process with Caitlyn’s information. Caitlyn had been dead within twenty-four hours of showing symptoms.

  Davis’s mind raced. If she had Narxis, she should be dead right now, too. She must have been exposed to Narxis days ago, via Caitlyn, and had definitely begun feeling faint shortly thereafter. None of it added up. She typed in her own name. A small part of her didn’t want to. Part of her didn’t want to know. Her records flashed on-screen and there, in bold letters, flashed a large error message. Davis’s heart stopped.

  It was worse than being diagnosed with Narxis. It was worse than anything.

  ERROR, the message read, in twenty-four-point font across the wide screen, obscuring the other fields. NOT FULLY A PRIOR.

  Davis read it slowly three more times, stunned. Its meaning failed to compute. What could it mean? Was she an Imp? But that was impossible. She pushed back from the computer desk, terrified. There was a small scrawl of a signature in the corner of the intake, there where it was scanned on the screen. “L.E.,” a set of initials, likely from the nurse who’d signed her in. That was all. The initials, the error, her fear. The letters seemed to flash brighter and larger until she could swear they were leaping from the screen and taking up the entire room, wrapping themselves around her neck and squeezing.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Davis hadn’t heard the door open.

  “You’re not allowed to be in here.” The grip on her arm was firm, but she barely felt it. She didn’t resist as the nurse led her back to her room, practically shoving her into the bed as she left to confer with the staff outside the door.

  NOT FULLY A PRIOR.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was seared over everything else in her brain until nothing mattered anymore. It was the only thing she could think about, the only thing that really mattered.

  No.

  Cole mattered. She had to pull herself together.

  Davis heard the sound of raised voices in the hall, some of them male, and shortly thereafter, her father burst in.

  “Davis! I can’t understand what you’re thinking,” he said, dismayed. “How could you assume it was okay to tamper with the staff computers? You have your own tablet right here if you need to check your e-mail.”

  “I wanted to know what was wrong with me,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze. Her dad’s expression softened and he moved next to her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

  “We’ll know soon,” he assured her. “Just be patient. This … this Narxis you’re certain you have. It’s just speculation. It could easily be a product of your overactive imagination. You probably just have a cold; maybe you’re run-down from the stress.…” He kept on going, but Davis tuned him out. She had no idea whether she had Narxis. But what was in her file was almost worse. She tuned back in to hear him say, “… Just in case, I’m putting two of my guys outside your room. I’m just not certain I can trust you right now, Davis. Maybe I shouldn’t have given you so many liberties growing up. I think you’ll agree when I say that this is for your own good.”

  “Dad, no!” The words escaped her before she could think about their implication.

  “It’s not up for debate,” her dad said. “And it shouldn’t matter anyway, since you’re just resting. It only matters if you planned to sneak around again. I want you to think about what it is you need so badly, Davis. If it’s that boy…” He swallowed hard. “It’s not acceptable. I won’t have it. You’ll stay right here, under my watch, until you’re better.” With that, he left the room, and through the open doorway, Davis could see two hulking men guarding the only entrance to the room. They were two of her father’s best, most trusted men. She was trapped. There was no way out.

  Davis glanced out of her window as the sun’s evening rays filtered inside, casting a purple-and-pink hue across the room. She blinked hard, trying not to cry. What would Cole think when she didn’t show up? Would he be afraid she was in trouble? Or that she was angry, and had given up on him? She hated to think of him worrying. She hated the thought, too, that she might not know where to find him if she ever did get out of this hospital-turned-prison. She had to get him a sign. But how? Davis racked her brain. She scanned the horizon for clues—for anything that could help her. And then she saw it: the steeple to St. Aloysius Church, one of the most beautiful remnants of Old Columbus. Her favorite refuge. But there was only one way there.

  Before she could think about it—before she could doubt her gut for even a second—Davis pushed open the window, allowing a rush of cold air into the hospital room. She reached outside, pushing it as far as it could go in order to widen the gap. It wasn’t much—the hospital likely wanted to take precautions against this very thing—but it was far enough for her to wriggle through. And so Davis pushed her lithe form through her only slim exit to the outside world. She stood finally, breathless, to balance on the outside ledge. Then she started climbing, her only footholds the decorative brick detailing, the closest balcony nearly four stories below.

  16

  COLE

  He got to the carousel fifteen minutes early. It felt like fifty. Finally, after an interminable wait, his DirecTalk sounded, letting him know it was 7:15, the time they’d designated to meet. But she was nowhere. Cole slipped inside the elephant car, then jumped out again a second later when he realized she might not see him in there, and if she didn’t see him, s
he might leave, and their moment would be lost.

  He felt jumpy. Every nerve was firing. It was the kind of anxiety that only her presence could ease, and every second in her absence amplified it times a million. Cole sat on the elevated platform that held the carousel horses and carriages. He let himself put his head in his hands for just a second; he took a long breath, but the second he let it out, the anxiety was back. It felt like something was wrong.

  He didn’t want to think that way. He told himself he was just being paranoid. She’d get there any second. But what if the motie had harassed her? What if someone had seen her and prevented her from coming over to the Slants? Should they have met somewhere else? Cole groaned. They definitely should have met elsewhere, somewhere safer for her. The Slants were remote, but if someone recognized her as a Prior …

  Cole heard a branch crack.

  “Davis?” He whirled around, looking for the source of the sound. “Is that you?” He kept his voice low. Another crack rang out. It may as well have been gunfire for how it sounded against the silence of the carousel. Another crack, closer.

  Hands were everywhere. On his shoulders, his wrists, the back of his shirt. They weren’t hers—gentle. They were rough, confident, strong. He fought to wriggle from their grasp.

  “Cole Everett. You’re coming with us.” A policeman came into view in his periphery as the officer pulled Cole’s hands behind his back. Confusion gave way to panic, and Cole struggled with every muscle in his body, but the cop held him.

  “What is this? What’s going on?” Cole shouted. He struggled. He pulled one arm free, and the cop swore. He wouldn’t go down without trying. Cole swiveled partway, throwing a desperate punch that connected with a cop’s nose. The cop cried out and released him, and Cole turned, intending to run—but a second cop was on him, pinning him to the ground. Cole twisted, kneeing the cop in the stomach. His heart thudded and his entire body pulsed with adrenaline. He struggled on the ground against the second cop. They were now engaged in a sort of wrestling match, and Cole was surprised by how well the guy fought.