ONE FINAL SPRITZ OF HAIR SPRAY and her long auburn hair lay perfect. A light foundation with a hint of blush, and lip gloss applied just right…Cassidy stepped back from the vanity mirror in her bathroom and gave herself an approving smile. It wasn’t every day she got invited to a major event by one of the most powerful men in Tampa, and she wanted to look her best.
Fifteen minutes. Will Mr. Gray come to the door? No, probably not. He has people for that. Or, will the car simply stay parked at the curb until I deign to appear?
Silly thoughts like that had flipped through her brain all morning. She applied a second layer of antiperspirant, against the heat she told herself, but knew deep down that she was coating herself against the beehive of nerves buzzing around in her stomach.
What am I so nervous about? Alexander Gray is just a man. I’ve been asked out before. So, really, there is nothing to be nervous about.
The doorbell chimed. She ran to the door, patted her clothes and hair one last time, took a deep breath and opened it. Mr. Gray stood on her doorstep, one hand in his pocket, his other poised to ring again.
“Good morning, Ms. Sinclair.” Alexander’s beguiling smile brightened her morning. “You look lovely. Are you ready?”
“Uhhh…yeah.” Cassidy stammered, “Just…let me get my purse and notebook.” She found it difficult to focus as she grabbed her bag and stepped outside. She turned to close the door, but stopped when Mr. Gray cleared his throat.
“It would be a shame to ruin your beautiful ensemble by showing up to the event barefoot, my dear.”
She expected to hear a sneer or some other condescension embedded in his tone, but she detected nothing. For everyone else, she got a sense of the emotions behind their words, but not with Alexander Gray. Ever since she caught that unguarded view into his fury when they first met, his emotions seemed blank.
“Duh. I’ll be right back.” She raced into her room and slipped into the conservative, yet sexy, black heels. With a final glance in the mirror—why am I blushing?—she headed out the door.
The limo ride to the hospital seemed to be over in an instant. Mr. Gray spent the ride on his cell phone making sure all was in order for the ceremony. He mentioned something about a package being in place, but she lost interest in the conversation when the façade of St. Matthew’s hove into view.
Elegant Spanish archways, porticos and old stone marked the turn of the century construction. It looked more like an upscale hotel than the oldest hospital in the south. Not big by modern standards, it towered over Cassidy’s life like the Empire State Building. An overflow of news vans, taxis and limos spoiled the quaint image.
Her heart dropped into her stomach when Gray’s living room on wheels drove under the great stone archway and glided to a halt opposite the red carpet that led to the front doors. She’d made that same drive two years ago under much different circumstances, and hadn’t been back since.
Seeing the place up close, the memories popped into sharp focus. The dread that had governed her prior visit closed in upon her. She had to get out, get some fresh air. Hand trembling, she pulled on the handle, but the door didn’t open. She pulled again, harder, with similar results.
Why won’t you open? The limo’s tight walls edged closer. Can’t breathe.
The door slid open and a white-gloved hand reach in to her. She grabbed on and let it pull her to safety.
Out in the open, she sucked in the sweet taste of Tampa, filling her lungs with its hot moist flavor. With it came a renewed purpose.
I can do this. Get the story and get out.
Distant clouds threatened rain, but over St. Matthew’s the sun beat down on the media horde outside the shade of the covered walkway. They lined the red carpet. Jostling, butting shoulders, inching forward, they vied for position to get a clean pic or to shout their questions. The big guys, well-known reporters and local royalty, waited inside for the man of the hour to arrive and the tour to start.
“Come, my dear,” Alexander offered his arm and led her through the gauntlet accompanied by the digital chchk of hundreds of cameras. Cassidy marched by Alexander’s side, eyes downcast, matching her step to his.
“Smile and wave.”
Not wanting to disappoint him or seem unappreciative, she painted on a broad smile, held her head high, and waved to the crowd. She looked everywhere except at those doors. With each step, though, they got closer. Her resolved flaked around the edges and her steps faltered until she felt a tug from Mr. Gray that pulled her forward.
I’m okay. I need to do this.
The doors whispered open at their approach. A blast of cold air escaped the confines of the hospital and charged up her spine.
Aside from the people, the lobby looked identical to the frozen image in her mind. Same white marble floor and spoiled cream colored walls. Same low, black leather and metal chairs and tables. Same seasonal collection of silk flowers sprouting from faux onyx vases.
How dare this place not change!
Even the nurses seemed the same. Cassidy recognized the one behind the counter—stern face, uncaring eyes, hair flipped back, starched white uniform. A modern day Nurse Ratched. But she knew better, knew it was all a big act put on for the circus that invaded the head nurse’s territory.
Alongside her host, Cassidy ignored the mumbled discussion that buzzed around her as the tour began, but maintained the presence of mind to respond with an inane nod or vapid smile when addressed directly. For the most part, she kept her head down and focused on the shoes of the person ahead of her, stopping and starting when they did.
No landmarks marred the linoleum, just one anonymous square after another. She could almost imagine herself walking through Home Depot or the mall. Almost. When she hit five hundred, she stopped counting.
What? Her empty stomach turned summersaults. Did someone say second floor? The shoes ahead of her climbed the stairs. She had to do the same.
A wave of grief hammered into Cassidy. Oh God. I thought I could do this, thought I was past the worst. She turned around, but Mr. Gray tightened his grip.
“Please, I need to go,” Cassidy whispered, trying to peel back the fingers around her arm.
“No. Stay. It will be over soon and my driver will take you wherever you want to go.”
“But…”
Mr. Gray faced her. Did she just imagine that? Did his eyes flash black?
“You WILL see this through.”
The clamp on her bicep hurt, but she didn’t want to make a scene and prolong her time in this awful place, so she stopped struggling and let herself be guided through the halls.
Maybe they won’t tour the whole floor. Maybe the new area is just outside the stairwell.
At the top of the stairs, Cassidy risked a glance. The Mayor walked ahead of her, talking over his shoulder to Mr. Gray who listened and nodded. She realized it was the Mayor’s sycophantic mumbles she’d tried to tune out for the whole tour. Figures.
“Ah, Stephen,” Mr. Gray spoke up, “Allow me to introduce the lovely Ms. Cassidy Sinclair. She works for the Weekly.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Sinclair.” Mayor Stephen Green aimed his best vote-getting smile at Cassidy and stuck out his hand. “I’m a big fan of your publication.”
She shook his hand and felt his lie through the contact. “Likewise, Mr. Mayor.”
Obligatory action completed, he turned back to Mr. Gray. “Alexander, I’ve been meaning to…”
The Mayor’s words drifted into the background clutter.
Down the hall, beyond the Mayor’s bobbing head, she hoped to see some sort of temporary seating area, a place for the speeches and the blue ribbon cutting. But there was nothing like that, only walls and halls…five of them. Eyes down again, aimed at the Mayor’s feet, she named each one as they passed its entryway and prayed the procession would stop before she called the fourth.
Radiology. Oncology. The names rattled off the top of her head without hesitation.
Cardiology. Cassidy felt cold, freezing, and so alone. Her entire being wanted to stop, turn around and sprint in the other direction, but Gray drove her forward with the rest of the media herd.
The Mayor stopped midway to the next hall. Cassidy had to put on the brakes or end up in his back pocket. Mr. Gray released the vice-grip that held her in thrall to clasp hands with Hernst Borgash, the Director of St. Matthew’s, who promised that the ceremony wouldn’t be disturbed.
Rubbing some feeling back into her arm, she spied the makeshift presentation area set up by the last wing. Neat rows of multi-colored plastic chairs and a portable lectern occupied all the available space in the north end juncture. Above the new wing, a freshly painted sign in large blue letters named it Neurology. Below that, a large blue ribbon with a giant bow stretched across the entranceway.
Platitudes exchanged, the men humphed, grumphed, patted each other on the back and moved on.
Don’t look. Walk past. Ignore it.
Cassidy listened to her own advice. Head down, she followed the Mayor until the linoleum pattern to her right opened into a darkened hallway. Her feet quit moving and she raised her head.
Blah-gray doors stood silent sentinels at the end of the short hall. Above them “BURN –NIT” proclaimed the purpose of the room beyond in faded, blood-red letters. The “U” had lost its grip and fallen away from its brothers and sisters.
Please…no.
In the crowd, she focused on the blue pinstripe down the back of the Mayor’s jacket while he walked and schmoozed the media reps, extolling the virtues of St. Matthew’s.
Don’t stop. Stick with the group. Get out of here.
She watched each and every one of those people ignore that hall. It wasn’t bright. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t alive. They didn’t even look down there, opting instead for the warmth and safety of the light. As they strolled by, oohing and aahing over the shiny new paint job and gleaming floors of the other wings, Cassidy flipped her private glances at those doors. She willed her feet to follow the mob of reporters and cameramen, but stopped and let the crowd pass her by.
She licked her top lip, bit down on the bottom. Heart jumping and pounding and twisting, her body remembered. She’d trod this path before, two years ago. Time is a harsh mistress. It sank its claws deep into Cassidy’s brain, ripped out the buried memories, dusted them off and served them fresh and raw.
She hugged herself tight, tried to control the quake that savaged her limbs, and shuffled into the isolated hallway. Thirteen steps from the hallway to the doors. She’d paced it off a thousand times that night.
Thirteen steps, turn, thirteen steps, turn.
Cassidy counted them again, sucking in a tiny breath with each tentative footfall. The acrid smell of cleanser and sulfur clung to the walls and the linoleum.
Not again.
Thirteen steps. Hands clenched, arms rigid, she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold metal door.
Turn around. Just go.
Pings from the monitors of that long ago night ricocheted inside her skull. She’d stood in this very spot with her forehead pressed against this same cold door and listened to the rustling and frantic scuffing of comfortable shoes from the other side while her little one screamed.
Those bastards wouldn’t let Cassidy in. A trained and experienced EMT and they wouldn’t let her in to tend and comfort her own child—said she was too close and wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Sobs burst from her as she slid to the floor against the peeled-paint wall; her legs no longer willing to bear her weight.
She knew what was coming as the memories replayed. Dreaded it, but welcomed the end to this revisited slice of hell. Silence. No movement, no machines, nothing. When she was here last, she was on her feet and peering through the small window when all went still. That’s when the doctor turned to her and, with a slight dip and shake of her head, destroyed Cassidy’s world.
The agony she thought secured in the depths of her heart flared up, boiled over, and left her a puddle of emotion to stagnate on the floor.
Slumped in the corner for who knew how long, she eventually stopped sobbing. Spent and numb, she clutched her knees to her chest.
Someone grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet.
“I told you,” Gray spat the words into her ear, “Not to leave my side.”
“But I-”
Down the hall, the speeches continued. With his back to the rest of the hospital, Gray shook her. Black streaks zigzagged across his eyes, but they flashed and disappeared so quickly that Cassidy wondered if she really saw them. The burning hatred he communicated through his fingertips told her the real story.
“You can feel that, can’t you, my disdain for your kind?”
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to register.
Feel it? How could he know?
“Yes,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I see it in your face, in the way you look at me now.” He traced her jaw line and bared his teeth in a cruel mockery of a smile.
“How did you like the tour?” His tone was offhand, casual, like he was talking to an old high school buddy. “Bring back memories for you?”
“You son of a bitch.” Realization lent Cassidy strength. She yanked one arm free. “You set me up.”
He sneered and checked his watch. “Come, my dear, time to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She tried to jerk her other arm free, but he held on.
Gray’s fingers chilled, sent an icy sensation into her arm. Cassidy tried to pull away, but her arm failed to respond. The cold spread quickly, jetting through her veins until she felt numb.
She wanted to scream, to run away, to kick this asshole in the nuts, anything, but her body refused her commands.
“Shall we?” Gray held out his arm like he was escorting her to a gala.
Her traitorous arm wrapped gently around his.
“Oh, stop scowling and smile.”
Cassidy’s lips curved. Stop that! Her mind fought off the frigid grasp of his control, desperately hanging on to her small bastion of rebellion.
Gray led them down the stairs and out the front door at a pace that suggested some urgent matter elsewhere. She railed at her limbs, pleaded with them to stop, but she matched him stride for stride.
While they were inside, the clouds had moved in. The promise of a downpour drove off all but the most desperate reporters. They eyed Gray and Cassidy’s march down the red carpet. Some snapped pictures, while others finished their cigarettes.
Gray’s hired goon opened the limo’s back door. The interior was dark, a gaping black maw that would suck Cassidy into the oblivion found in Gray’s touch.
I can’t let this happen, can’t go in there. Terror ate at her. Her heart should have been beating out of her chest, but its pace remained normal, untroubled. A single tear escaped and rolled down the curvature of her forced smile.
Surprised, Gray gave her an appreciative look. “I knew you were strong.” He caressed the moisture away with a brush of his knuckles. “I will enjoy this…relationship.”
Cassidy’s lips trembled.
“Get in the car.” Alexander commanded through a tight smile as he watched the reactions of the reporters. She bent down, setting one foot in the car.
Cassidy focused her will, fighting against Gray’s near-absolute control.
A photographer jumped out of line and shot a close-up. The flash went off, slashing Gray across the eyes. His control slipped.
“No.” Cassidy pulled free and fell to the ground. Warmth and, more importantly, control rushed back into her system. Weak, she crawled a few feet away and opened her mouth to scream.
Gray’s whisper cut her off. “You scream, you die. Right here and now.”
Cassidy didn’t doubt he’d kill her. He reached out a hand, presumably to help her up, but she knew it was only for show.
“Last chance. Get in.”
“I will not.” Cassidy spoke through clenched teeth.
“Ms. Sinclair, I am sorry you are not feeling well.” Gray’s raised voice carried to everyone in the vicinity. “Please contact my secretary to reschedule your exclusive interview.” He leaned down so only she could hear. “Say hello to the Knights for me…if you live long enough.”
The Knights? How? Why? Her head pounded with all the disjointed information.
Gray brought his hand to his mouth and coughed into his fist. It sounded odd, like a word in some foreign, guttural language. When he opened his hand, a small black fly with bright green wings took flight. Slow at first, it increased speed as it righted its course and flew toward the hospital.
The limo’s back door slammed behind Gray and his driver peeled out.
What just happened?
Seated on the red carpet, Cassidy felt wrung out. The ordeal in the hospital shredded her emotions and Gray’s crazy puppet-master act left her physically weak. Her limbs shook and she wanted to sit there and cry.
He drove off and left me. Just like that. Why?
One of the reporters came over to check, but Cassidy waved him off. She needed space, and a drink. Yes, a huge drink and a long swim.
What’s with that fly thing?
She looked toward the hospital, searched for the fly. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to see anything so small, but she could. Clearly. It prowled along the edge of the front door.
A nervous flutter kicked up in her gut, but quickly transformed into a mounting fear that snaked through her intestines, growing stronger. With dread certainty, she knew if that fly got inside, something terrible would happen.
Desperation powered her legs. She surged to her feet and ran toward the doors. If they didn’t open, it couldn’t get in and she’d squish the little pest.
Within her first three steps, the door opened. It flew in.
Cassidy stopped and backed up a step. Everything seemed normal. The hospital didn’t blow up when it got inside.
I’m going crazy. She turned around and walked to the end of the red carpet. Something clattered to the pavement behind her. Cassidy spun in time to see the reporter at the base of the stairs that led up to the entrance drop to the ground. Others rushed to the reporter’s side, but when they got close, they too collapsed.
The hospital doors whooshed and the head nurse staggered forward, mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. All color bled from her skin, leaving it gray and lifeless. Hands, twisted and bent, pawed the air as she stumbled down the steps.
Too stunned to move, Cassidy watched the jerky movements of the nurse’s arms slow, stop and hang limp. She fell forward, skull bouncing off the flagstones. A crimson pool spread around her head like a dirty halo.
Cassidy had to do something, couldn’t just stand there and watch this horror movie unfold, but the bodies of those who got close to the building hadn’t moved.
What if I walk in there and the same thing happens to me? The question locked her in place. On the other hand, can I live with myself if people die because I choose not to act?
She knew the answer. Two years ago she buried herself alongside her daughter, giving up on the wonder life had to offer. Until she met the Knights, she hadn’t missed it.
Her legs wobbled as she took her first step toward the hospital doors.