Conspiracy of Ravens Page 8

  “There’s no need.” He shifted his weight. His gaze cut to the exit.

  One of the nurses called out. “Mary, are you—”

  “I’m taking care of this!” Mary screeched. “Cover me.”

  Cole’s gaze darkened. His jaw clenched. The shadows pooled in the room, spreading outward from the corners.

  “Cole,” Raven warned.

  He sneered.

  “Don’t.”

  Cole glanced at Raven. His gaze softened. His expression relaxed. “Fine.”

  The nurse pushed a scowling Cole toward the admittance doors without inquiring about his medical card or following proper registration procedure. Raven lifted a hand and finger waved. She found something oddly satisfying with watching a swooning, five-foot-nothing, middle-aged nurse manhandle the mighty Lord of Darkness into submission.

  Raven and Mike sat like two lumps of useless clay. With each loud tick of the second hand on the generic, antiquated clock on the stark waiting room wall, Raven became more and more livid. Her hands shook. At this rate, they’d be here until the morning and well past the critical healing point for shifters. The gunk coating her hair from her brother’s building had ripened, and every few minutes she got a waft of the funk. She smelled like the dumpster outside Dan’s Diner. The busy waiting room held at least ten other patients and their friends and family. Accidents rarely waited for a convenient moment and school nights were no exception. A gentle din of conversation settled over the drafty room, punctuated with sirens and gusts of night air rushing in from the automated emergency doors.

  The other nurse had finished assessing Mike and took his vital signs with bored disinterest, robotic even. Mike still hadn’t been called when Cole re-entered the emergency waiting room wearing a crisp white bandage on his forearm, a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek, and an intense glower threatening severe violence to anyone who dared comment on either.

  Heads snapped in his direction. The sneezing, whining and coughing stopped. The shadows flowed behind him and eased into the room, darkening the corners and entrance. All conversations ceased. Raven’s hands stopped shaking.

  Men stiffened and straightened. Others cowered. Most of the women preened, while others grabbed their children and scurried from the room. For an assassin who counted on stealth and subterfuge, Camhanaich’s presence demanded attention when he wasn’t hiding. Luckily, the late-night patrons of the hospital emergency room seemed too intimidated to approach him.

  Well, except Nurse Martin. In the background, the nurse returned to her desk, settling into her cushioned office chair with a satisfied sigh and a happy wiggle.

  Cole spotted Raven and headed in her direction. His focus trained on her as he moved with deadly grace around the frozen patients. Raven clamped her jaw shut and swallowed. No drooling here. Yet, her body didn’t care one bit what she tried to tell it. Her heart rate still picked up and her cheeks warmed.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Though she barely knew him, she wanted Cole to look at her the way she looked at a travel brochure. The second she laid her contact-covered eyes on him she wanted a piece. But he wasn’t for her. He probably had a complicated relationship with a powerful voodoo priestess who controlled the souls of the dead. She knew the type. Power always attracted more power, and those with lots of it wanted more. Like a drug, the power they possessed was never enough.

  Raven held no illusions regarding her own abilities. Her skills might be a neat trick, but in the supernatural community, she was small potatoes. If Cole even looked her way, it would be fleeting, and for a casual night or two, a blip in a long string of women.

  Sweet Odin, it would almost be worth it.

  Mike whined in her arms and she gave him a squeeze, hugging his furry little body to her own. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

  He shivered.

  If someone didn’t get them soon, she might lose what little self-control she had left. Ogling Cole was a nice reprieve, but barely contained rage simmered under her skin. Not only had her baby brother been hurt, he now faced further injury if he wasn’t treated soon. How could they make him wait? What were they doing? “Maybe Casanova here can pull some strings for us.”

  Cole closed the distance between the doors and where they sat. The room let out a collective sigh when he sat down beside them and the shadows in the room settled.

  “Have fun?” Raven asked.

  “Don’t.” He rubbed at the lipstick smudge on his cheek.

  “Will you survive the vicious attack from the ferocious beast you vanquished for mankind’s collective safety?”

  “Please, stop.”

  “Did the night nurse give you some healing? Sexual healing?” She waggled her eyebrows. Hmm. Making fun of Cole made her feel better and eased some of the fury vibrating her bones.

  He turned his glower on Raven.

  She mock-flinched. “We were worried.”

  He grunted. “How do you stand these human centers of disease?”

  “They save lives here, and their services are covered under our provincial health care. Not everyone can wave a magical wand and heal all their wounds.”

  The scowl eased from his face, replaced with a slow spreading smile. He leaned in. “It’s been called magical before, but I don’t know if I can claim healing capabilities.”

  Heat infused her face. She refused to look away from the deep depths of his intense gaze. “Just...”

  “Shut up and hold your brother’s clothes?”

  She pressed her lips together.

  Cole’s face scrunched up. “What’s that smell?”

  “Me, unfortunately.”

  His gaze travelled up her body and lingered. “I prefer when you smell of the rain.”

  “I’ll try to keep a bottle of that handy in the future.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s the tar-like gunk from the building you threw me against. It’s still in my hair.”

  A couple of patients in the waiting room turned to her with wide eyes.

  A smile crept along Cole’s face, like the memory warmed the cold recesses of the big bad fae lord’s heart.

  “And sweat,” she added. Lots and lots of sweat. Her skin itched from the dried perspiration, and her legs ached. She’d worked out more in the last twenty-four hours than she had all last month. She’d suffer a two, if not three, day burn from this exertion. She ran her hand through Mike’s patchy fur, smoothing the orange fuzz down.

  Cole continued to watch her, and she fought the urge to squirm in her seat.

  “So...” she started.

  His eyebrows rose.

  “Tell me about yourself.” She cringed. Really? Did she honestly ask the Lord of Darkness to talk about himself? Next, she’d ask him what he was thinking.

  Mike whined and shoved his snout under his paws.

  Cole cringed. “Aren’t you a PI? Why not search me on the internet or one of your databases?”

  She pursed her lips. “That would undoubtedly lead me to hordes of fanfiction and smut based articles.” Not that she was opposed to either. Hmm. Come to think of it. That wasn’t such a bad plan. She’d have to wait for her next night shift off and she had excellent source material sitting next to her to help fuel her imagination. “Access to information doesn’t necessarily lead to true facts.”

  “There’s textbooks.”

  “Look at you. So sure of yourself. You’re probably not even worth a bold font or index listing.”

  Shadows pooled around them. “I’m sure you can find a chapter or two on the Shadow Realm, as I’m sure I warrant at least a brief mention in its history.”

  “So, you’re not going to tell me about yourself?” Geez. Tough crowd.

  “No.”

  “No?” She ran her hands through Mike’s fur again. “Would it ruin your man of mystery image?”

  Cole shrugged but didn’t look away. Instead, the smile continued to slowly grow, and he leaned closer. Voluntarily. “I’d rather discuss you. Tell me, Rayray, why do your cheeks turn rosy every
time I’m near?”

  A male nurse walked through the receiving doors. “Crawford? Mike Crawford?”

  “Here!” Raven sprang to her feet, holding her brother close to her chest.

  Cole chuckled and shook his head.

  The tall nurse had broad shoulders and wore his scrubs a little on the snug side. Dark bags under his eyes and a day’s worth of stubble suggested he’d been on shift for a while. His nametag read, “Jordan.” His gaze travelled over their group before pivoting back toward the way he came. “Follow me.”

  Mary batted her eyelashes and waved at Cole as they passed. The mighty Lord of Darkness grumbled. He’d effectively distracted Raven from an unseemly and unproductive outburst in the waiting room, though, so bonus points for him.

  Nurse Jordan led them to an examination room and retook Mike’s vitals. His dark brows furrowed. “Have you been through this before?”

  “A broken limb?”

  He nodded.

  “Not my brother, no.” Her mother, father and Juni on the other hand, many times. Not something she wished to repeat any time soon, especially not with Mike, yet she had a feeling she’d be back with Juni in the future.

  “But you know what to expect?” Nurse Jordan asked. His dark skin shone under the bright fluorescent lights.

  Raven nodded. All shifters did, even though she was technically different than the rest of the family.

  “As a nurse, I’m unable to legally obtain consent from the patient so the ERP—“

  “ERP?”

  “Emergency Room Physician.” He took a breath and continued. “Anyway, the ERP will obtain consent once he arrives, but I’ll go through the gist of it now while we’re waiting and start the IV. We’ll sedate Mike, set the break in the animal form, and then your brother will attempt to shift after we pull the IV from him.” His glanced at the clothes Cole clutched. “You brought something familiar with his human scent. Good. With any luck, the transformation will accelerate the healing process and maintain bone alignment.”

  She waited. No one in her family claimed to have good luck.

  The nurse took another deep breath. “If the bones move too much during the shift, we’ll have to reset the break, again, once Mike is in human form.”

  She nodded. She’d heard this before.

  “There is a small chance, the bones might shift too much and the injury will result in permanent disfigurement and possibly future transformational hindrance.”

  In other words, difficulty or inability to shift again.

  “And there’s also a chance Mike may get trapped in the transformation, especially now that we’re drawing close to critical injury time. It’s good that he has family and his own clothes here. It will help. He should be fine. Have you signed the waiver?”

  She had and knew from experience once the doctor arrived they’d video Mike giving his consent as much as a man in a fox’s body could. She ran a hand down his patchy fur again.

  “Okay, well, your doctor tonight will be Dr. Fleming.”

  Her head snapped up. Fleming? Her heart hammered in her chest. No. It couldn’t be. Her mouth grew dry. There had to be other Flemings in the Lower Mainland working as doctors. It couldn’t be...

  Two knocks preceded the door swinging open to the examination room. A classically handsome man in his mid-thirties, with thick brown hair and light brown eyes walked in. Despite having a straight nose, it appeared perpetually turned up at the end as if he constantly looked down on others. A white lab coat partially covered his mint green scrubs, and his white sneakers shone under the harsh fluorescent lights. He either buffed them after every shift or they came straight from the box.

  Doctor Robert Fleming. If she required urgent care and the only options for a medical professional was this guy, Dr. Lecter or Dr. Jekyll, she’d choose one of the others. Sure, she might end up with no skin or someone else’s body parts, but she’d rather those possible outcomes to spending any time with Robert. The idea of placing herself in a vulnerable position with him near sent shivers along her skin. He’d already proven himself unworthy of her trust.

  “Robert?” She stiffened in her seat. She’d planned on looking like an absolute smoke show the first time she saw her ex post break-up, not like a sweaty, dumpster-diving drowned rat. Her jeans stuck her to legs with some unflattering bunching going on near her crotch and thighs and her ripped shirt was drenched with sweat and covered in fox fur. Her scraped hands ached to reach out and throttle the doctor.

  Mike growled.

  Robert halted. His hands gripped the clipboard and he scanned the forms instead of meeting her glare. His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

  The douche-canoe had actually done it. He’d finished med school after declaring bankruptcy and left Raven to scramble and clean up after him. Anger flashed through her veins. He’d achieved his dreams, and she...and she...

  Well, she hadn’t.

  Cole perked up from his resting place leaning against the wall. His hoodie did little to hide his large, imposing frame and his dark jeans emphasized the strength of his thighs and made Raven drool. Despite his “civilian” wardrobe and casual stance, he continued to radiate lethal purpose. The shadows pulled in around him.

  “Well, this is...” Robert’s voice trailed off.

  Unexpected? Awkward? Unpleasant?

  “A routine procedure. Hardly something requiring my specialist expertise.” He finally looked up from the clipboard and his gaze swept the room, somehow still managing to avoid direct eye contact.

  Why was he an expert in shifter medicine? He had no supernatural abilities that she knew of, besides being an epic loser, maybe. Was there even such a thing as a specialist in Emergency? Didn’t they all have the same training?

  The nurse frowned.

  “Nurse Jordan here will get you one of the many, fine, generalist doctors at Burnaby General to assist you.”

  “There’s no such thing as a—” the nurse started.

  The dark look Robert cast him stopped the words from tumbling out.

  Raven didn’t need Nurse Jordan to finish his sentence. Understanding hit her like a two-ton brick. She was right—all emergency doctors had the same training. Robert was no more or less qualified to reduce a bone than any other emergency room physician. He was attempting to run away while still coming across as superior. She knew reassigning a doctor would take time, too much time. They still had to videotape Mike’s consent, sedate him and call a respiratory therapist to manage his airway while he was under sedation.

  The longer they waited, the more difficult the transition would be for her baby brother. He already approached the critical point for seeking “standard” medical attention. After twelve hours, magical assistance was required, and as an elective procedure, basic medical insurance wouldn’t cover the expense. No one in Raven’s family could afford the extravagant procedure, and Mike might never shift again, or regain full use of his arm.

  There was a chance Robert knew nothing of this time factor despite his bullshit “specialist expertise” claim, or maybe he missed the time of injury or the red stamp on the form reading, “TIME SENSITIVE,” when he scanned Mike’s medical forms. There was a chance he just wanted to save both of them an awkward encounter. Or he was just a coward and couldn’t, or wouldn’t, face her.

  There was a chance he wasn’t a complete dickwad, but Raven doubted it. Robert wanted her to beg.

  Every cell in her body vibrated with anger, demanding to be rid of his presence, or lash out. Under any other circumstances, she’d applaud Robert’s cowardice and revel in the glow of his quick retreat.

  Not tonight.

  Not when her brother’s health counted on Robert’s assistance. She’d grovel for him to stay if she had to.

  Odin’s saggy ball sack! She had to. They couldn’t wait for a new doctor, and setting the bones herself had other medical implications, mainly a giant messed up debacle.

  Raven swallowed her rising stomach contents and straightened i
n her seat. She bit down so hard, she tasted blood. It was going to be okay. It had to be okay. Do this for Mike. With a deep breath, she flashed a tight smile to Cole and gathered Mike in her arms to stand up. “Robert.”

  Cole’s gaze flicked between her and Dr. Douche. He moved so smooth and fast she didn’t see him take a step. One moment he stood by the wall, and the next, he loomed over her ex.

  Robert blinked.

  “You will heal this shifter, and you will do it now.” The shadows gathered around Cole.

  Robert’s hands tightened on the clipboard again as he held it to his chest like some sort of body armour. His jaw clenched.

  She knew the look. Robert was pissed.

  “I don’t know who you think you are,” Robert started. “But you have no power over me.”

  Cole took a step to stand in front of Raven. She couldn’t see Cole’s face, but she could see Robert’s when she leaned to the side to peer around Cole’s hulking body. The normally healthy colour in her ex’s cheeks drained. He lost his pissy face. Whatever Robert saw in Cole’s expression scared him. The room dimmed.

  “You’re mistaken,” Cole said.

  The shadows lurking in the corners of the room shot forward and slammed the door to the examination room shut. The lights flickered.

  Robert jumped.

  The strands of shadow lengthened and snapped around the doctor’s wrists.

  “Cole...”

  Another band of gray snaked up and wound around Robert’s neck.

  Raven tugged on Cole’s uninjured arm. “You can’t hurt him.”

  Cole shrugged her off. “No. I can’t kill him. There’s a distinction. The important question is whether the doctor understands the significance of the difference.”

  The band around Robert’s neck tightened. The doctor’s eyes bulged.

  “You will heal this shifter and you will do it now,” Cole repeated. “If you call security, you’ll never live to see them arrive. If you refuse, you won’t leave the hospital breathing.”

  Well, then.

  Robert trembled.

  As worried as Raven was that the police would somehow barge into the room at any moment and arrest them all, seeing Robert this scared was very, very satisfying.