Shasta dozed, hovering just under the edge of consciousness; he could hear the daily movement of the hospital around him but it only drifted in and out of his dreams instead of waking him up. The tube had been removed from his throat and he was breathing on his own, but he’d lost his voice as a result of the intubation, and he spent the majority of his time sleeping. In his dreams he waited for Shiki to find him, but each time he woke up to the sterile white hospital room without having seen any sign of his friend.
Part of him registered the door opening but he assumed it was the nurse coming to check on him again. She seemed to have taken a liking to him—or at least decided he needed mothering—and often checked in on him even when she didn’t need to. He’d learned her name was Leila and she was married with two children and one grandchild; and her visits at least livened up his boring stay. He’d tried to tell her that he wasn’t Jones—by writing it when he found he couldn’t speak—but his hands shook so badly he could only produce vague scratches. He was so weak it made him angry but he forced himself to wait; he was steadily regaining his strength and then he could tell them who he really was.
He slipped a little deeper into sleep, dreaming of his house in the between world. In his dream he knew that someone had broken in, bypassing the security spells he had in place without setting them off. He stood in front of the half-open door, hesitating on going inside; something warned him that going in would be a bad idea. He looked around, glancing back over his shoulder more than once, then took a deep breath and walked up the steps to ease open the door.
There was blood on the floor in front of the door, leading in a haphazard trail into the living room. He stared at it, nearly panting for breath, then took a few hesitant steps inside. He half-expected the door to slam shut behind him but it remained open, letting in the dusky sunlight. When he glanced back he saw dust motes dancing in its narrow beam. Trying to slow down his breathing and ease the sharp pain in his chest, he kept walking into the living room.
Shiki sat slumped on the couch, his chin down on his chest and his eyes closed; his arms dangled limply between his spread legs. He was barely breathing, the rise and fall of his chest only noticeable when Shasta watched him closely for a few moments. A big part of Shasta urged him to go over there and help Shiki, but he forced himself to stay where he was, wary.
It didn’t take long before he couldn’t take it anymore and carefully made his way over to Shiki. Reaching out with one trembling hand, he gently touched Shiki’s shoulder, his fear spiking as he felt the coolness of the flesh under Shiki’s shirt. He took a deep breath and moved his hand up to press the tips of his fingers to Shiki’s cheek.
Shiki’s eyes opened so suddenly that Shasta leaped back, his breath escaping him in a strangled squeak. The noise made Shiki smile slightly, though Shasta barely noticed; his attention was on Shiki’s left eye, where the white iris had become streaked with the red of blood. Shasta went down on his knees and cupped Shiki’s face in both hands, examining him for other injuries.
“I don’t have a lot of time.” Shiki’s voice was hoarse and jagged with his uneven breathing. “Where are you?”
“I got shot, I’m in hospital. What happened?”
“You got—” Shiki tensed, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. When he opened them again his left eye had gone completely red, as though the pupil was floating in a pool of blood. “You’re here, you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Shiki, what happened?”
“We went to get Jones’s daughter, Emily. I think they were expecting us. There was some sort of alarm. Jones left with the girl, but Drae and I can’t get out.” Under Shasta’s hands the feeling of skin began to fade and he realized he could see the back of the couch right through Shiki’s body. “Help, Shasta.”
“I’m coming. Just hold on.” Shasta saw Shiki smile, then the other man faded away, leaving him alone in the living room. He remained kneeling there for a long moment, then shoved himself to his feet and headed for the door.
Halfway there, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. He had enough time to register that it was a woman, then she shoved him hard. He fell back and kept falling, through the hardwood floor and down into the earth, until he jerked awake in his hospital bed. Fighting to breathe through the pain in his chest, he looked around and saw her sitting in the chair beside his bed, her smile causing her mismatched eyes—one sky-blue and one grey—to crinkle up at the corners.
“Hello, Shasta,” she said. “Long time no see.”
He couldn’t tell her to go fuck herself, so he contented himself with raising one shaky hand and extending his middle finger. The gesture only made her laugh and she reached out to pat his head like he was a child again—just like she had when he actually was a child.
“I missed you too. You look a lot like your mom, you know. Though of course you’ve got the Lockwood eyes.” She tapped her cheekbone beside her own right eye and grinned again. “Imagine my surprise when I get a report that a man named Jones has come in with a gunshot wound—though really, Jones is a damn common name—and I find you instead.” She reached out to lift up the dogtags Leila had put back around his neck, leaning in to read the stamped lettering. “Except I’ve seen these tags before and they do actually belong to the man I’m looking for. What an interesting coincidence.”
No coincidences, he mouthed at her, parroting words she’d often told him when she came to visit.
“No, there aren’t.” She dropped the tags back on his chest. “You’re a message and I’m pretty sure I know who’s sending it. How is my favourite demoness?”
He shrugged, not even trying to mouth anything in response.
“Well, tell her I miss her. We could have done such great things together.” She pushed herself to her feet with all the grace of a leopard. “Take my advice, Shasta, and back out now. I don’t want to have to kill you. After all, we’re family.” She leaned down to kiss his cheek and walked out of the room, giving a cheery wave to Leila the nurse on the way by.
“Friend of yours?” Leila asked, coming to fluff up his pillow. “I’m glad to see you get a visitor.”
Hoping his fear-heightened breathing could be passed off as the strain from his injury, Shasta mustered a smile and nodded. Through the use of a few motions he got Leila to bring him pad and paper—though she expressed uncertainty that he would be able to write any better than he did last time—and with painstaking effort wrote ‘My phone?’ The words scrawled all over the page, worse than those of a child just learning to write, but Leila managed to understand them though she gave him a pitying smile that made him want to smack her, no matter how nice she had been to him.
“You can’t even talk yet. Are you planning to text someone?”
Tired already, he just shook his head and flicked the pad of paper with his finger. She frowned slightly at him, then shrugged and got up to get his phone out of the box containing the belongings he had come in with. Her expression was disapproving as she handed him the phone but he ignored her and pressed the 1 key. The phone dialled out and he let it ring four times before hanging up again and fumbling the phone over to the table beside him.
“You’re a strange one,” Leila told him. “I have to do my rounds but I’ll come spend some time with you at dinner if you like.”
Smiling, Shasta nodded, knowing full well that by dinnertime he would be long gone. He watched her walk out of the room, half-closing the door behind her, then settled back and closed his eyes to wait for his ride to show up.
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