Chapter 16

With the release forms signed, Seraph was spared the annoyance of having to use a wheelchair while inside the hospital. She stood at the cashier's desk in scrub pants and a paper shirt. It had taken her over an hour to get to this point and she was getting antsy. After checking Seraph's wristband, the woman quickly exited the office-like area behind the large wrap-around desk through a kind of back door. She tried to stay patient. Good lord, what was taking so long?

When the woman finally returned she carried a large blue medical ziplock bag and Seraph all but snatched it from her hands. Grunting something that might have been a 'thank you' or an 'about time', Seraph clutched the bag to her chest with her good arm and walked away.

She needed to go through the bag like she needed air. It hurt to be so close and not take that last step. But privacy was equally important. She needed to be alone to deal with whatever she found... or didn't.

A deserted stairwell provided her the sanctuary she sought. She sat on the stairs and ripped past the seal. Stuffed inside was her jacket, shirt and pants (cut up and ruined), her cell phone (miraculously still working), her boots (dirty and bloodstained) and finally her wallet and keys. That was it.

There was no ring.

Seraph felt her heart stop. No. No, it had to be here. She turned the bag inside out. Shook out her jacket. Her shirt. Dug through her pants’ pockets.

There. Seraph's fingers brushed the metal band and she let out a gasp of breath that sounded a lot like a sob.

The ring glinted dully in the unforgiving florescent lights of the stairwell. She couldn't risk letting it out of her sight again. Taking a deep breath she slipped the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand. It fit perfectly.

Almost immediately she felt better. A weight lifted from her chest and her headache receded to a nearly ignorable level, along with the pain in her shoulder. The fog her concussion cast over her thoughts cleared so quickly that there was no chance that her relief didn’t come from the ring. Careful testing of her shoulder proved that she was still injured, so the ring didn’t heal her exactly, but it certainly pushed back the pain. This type of magic was rare– not to mention costly. Healing magic was the most difficult of magic to master. While middle level healers could be found in every hospital, there were few master healers. Seraph didn't know how many of those could also enchant, which was a completely different field of magic, but she figured there weren't that many.

Seraph was pulled from her thoughts by the ringing of her cell phone. She flipped it open without even checking the display. "Hello?" she answered incredulously.

"Seraph? I’m here. What room are you in?"

"Brad?"

"Was someone else coming to pick you up?" he asked.

"I guess not, but why are you calling me?"

"So I can find you and bring you your clothes?"

"I didn’t have my cell phone until just now."

"Oh. Well, you have it now and I’m in the parking lot. Where are you?"

"Never mind, meet me in the front lobby."

It took her a few minutes to stuff all of her things back in the bag and work her way down to the first floor where she found Brad waiting for her with some of her clothes in his arms. It was clear that he had been woken up for this, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt with his hair unbrushed, but his eyes were alert and he seemed in a good enough mood once he saw her.

"Whoa, look at you! Maybe you should take up a safer sport than bear wrestling, huh?"

"You're never going to drop that, are you?"

"Why would I?" he asked as he handed her clothes. "I didn't know you broke your arm or I would have brought a button down. Also I wasn't going to go through your underwear, so you have to go without."

"That's fine, just give me a minute. Thanks for coming, by the way," she said.

"No problem."

She gave him her bag to hold and ducked into the public restroom by the front doors. Changing her clothing in a stall with one hand was a new and frustrating experience. She ended up not even trying to push her hurt arm through the sleeve, just pulled the shirt over the top of the whole mess. It was warmer at least. Brad hadn't brought her new shoes and she really didn't feel like fighting with her boots, so she just left the paper booties where they were. They wouldn't be fun, but it hadn't snowed today so they would get her to the car– that was good enough.

"Ready now?" Brad asked when she emerged from the bathroom.

"More than, I just want to be home in bed."

She went through the bag, taking out her things and stuffing them into her pockets, as they walked to the car. He had managed to get a close spot since the parking lot was mostly empty at this time of night. Seraph tossed her scrubs into the back and settled gratefully into passenger's seat while Brad cranked the heat. Despite the painkillers she had been given before she left and whatever the ring was doing for her– her arm was starting to throb along with her head. Brad carefully pulled out into the lack of traffic on the highway and headed home.

"You know, you have the worst luck I have ever seen in a person outside of a sitcom. I wouldn't be surprised to hear about you getting hit by lightning next. Has your life always been this interesting, or is this new?"

"Please, I don't want to talk about it." Seraph turned her head to stare out the window. The last thing she wanted to do was try and come up with good explanations about all of the shit that was happening to her. Understanding that this wasn't the best time for questions, Brad drove in silence. Normally Seraph would have been happy with this, but the silence gave her time to dwell and she found herself with the strange urge to fill the void with chatter. "Hey Brad," she said, not turning to him. "Tell me about yourself."

"What? Why?"

"It's too quiet and we don't get a chance to talk a lot, I hardly know you." A pause. "Come on, I'm not asking for your biography. I just want something to take my mind off my arm."

"Okay, fine," he said. "Um. What do you want to know?"

"I don't know... Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Yeah, three brothers and a sister. I'm right in the middle with two older brothers and a younger sister and brother."

"Wow."

"Yeah. We lived on a ranch. I think my parents had us so they would have someone to do all the chores. I was always having to feed something, chickens, llamas, dogs, whatever."

"Llamas?"

"If you're going to make fun of me, I won't tell you anymore."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't find llamas funny at all, I swear." Seraph raised her good hand in a pseudo boy-scout salute. "I've never heard you talk about them, you're not close?"

"Not like you and Gabe. My family is very orthodox in their worship of Jehovah and they didn't approve of me being seeing Patrick. I don't talk to them a lot."

"Wait, you're dating Patrick?"

"Um, yeah, you didn't know?"

"I thought he was just a friend. Now I just feel kinda stupid."

Brad just laughed. "Well, neither one of us is big on PDAs. I'm sure you would have figured it out if we had made out in front of you," Brad offered, still snickering.

"I guess. Still, this seems like it's coming out of left field. I've been living with you for over a month, you would think I would have noticed that. I guess I've been... really caught up in my own shit." Which was more than true. With a curse invading her mind, being attacked by magic monsters at every turn, having a long list of injuries that never seemed to get better, Seraph guessed she was lucky that she noticed her brother even had a roommate. "Your family's not talking to you because you're dating Patrick?"

Brad shifted uncomfortably, probably embarrassed over his extremist roots. It was impossible to deny Christianity's status as the predominate faith in this country or influence on the nation's history– manifest destiny, anyone? These days, however, separation of church and state wasn't just an ideal, it was a stringently enforced law. Gods had a tendency to manipulate their followers through politics whenever they had a chance, manipulations that ultimately led to wars and a lot of innocent people dead. To say nobody needed another world war or holocaust would be a gross understatement. The American government had taken those lessons to heart and politicians weren't allowed to have an allegiance to any one particular god. Fanatical religions, monotheistic or otherwise, had been out of vogue for a long time. Hatred for minorities of any kind wasn't gone by any stretch, but it was certainly rare that a modern church would publicly condemn them. This wasn't true for the whole world, but it was true for Seraph's experience in it.

"My family's faith has always been important to them," Brad said finally.

"And you? How do you feel about it?"

"I... mostly don't think about it."

"Fair enough," Seraph said.

Personally, she had never really had all that much use for gods. They were quick to pass down commands, but impossible to pin down for answers. What little they did pass down tended to conflict with other religions, if it didn't outright conflict with their own older doctrine. It couldn't all be true, so how could you trust any of it? Particularly when the gods in question tended to think the best way to settle the dispute was by throwing an army of followers at it. Seraph suspected gods told mortals what they thought mortals needed to know, and kept the rest to themselves. They might be powerful allies, but they still had their own agenda.

"Also," Brad said, "my family was never really all that close. Patrick was the straw that broke the camel's back for my parents. I do still talk to my siblings, just not a lot."

"How long have you been together?"

"Three years last month."

"Wow, that's great." Of course it also brought to mind that it had been just about that long since the last time Seraph had been on a date. It wasn't hard to find like-minded women in the marines, but that didn't mean it was easy to have a relationship with one while on duty. Easier than trying to date now, certainly, but at the time it hardly seemed worth the effort. Seraph thought back, her last relationship had been with Maggie, at the time another corporal. It had been good while it lasted, but it had ended abruptly when Seraph had been transferred overseas.

It was time to change the conversation to something less depressing.

"Llamas. Really?"

"What did I tell you?" Brad said both annoyed and amused. "I should–"

Whatever revenge Brad would have chosen to threaten or inflict would remain a mystery as the voice chose that moment to come to her with another vision. This time it was different– the jewel was out of its display instead it sat in a small box on a table in what might have been a run down office, but had decorations layered over the poorly kept room. Seraph was given no explanation for this change, the voice only demanded its recovery. You must retrieve the Rose of the Queen... Quickly... You must...

Seraph knew she was in trouble when she came back to herself. The car was pulled over on the side of the road and Brad was on his cell, telling whoever was on the other end to come quick. Twisting in her seat, Seraph snatched the phone away from him and closed it, but not before hearing a man's voice saying that an officer was on the way.

"Shit! What did you tell them?" Seraph demanded.

"Jesus, what the hell just happened to you? Are you all right?"

"What did you tell them!?" Seraph screamed.

"I said that something magical was attacking you! Oh my god, your eyes were glowing."

The sound of a siren coming closer drove Seraph from the car. She popped open the door and was running down the street before Brad figured out what was happening. She heard him scramble out of his car and scream after her but she didn't look back.

Seraph ran as fast as she could, as far as she could, deep into the freezing night. Away from the sirens and friends that would help her by locking her in a cage. She turned down a dark alley and the sirens passed behind her. She couldn't hear Brad behind her– either he hadn't followed her or had stopped to flag down the cops, but she couldn't stop moving. They wouldn't stop looking for her.

She made another turn onto another deserted street. This late at night there was no one out on the streets, which meant no crowd for her to blend into and disappear. Distance would be the only shield she had– while the police had to search for her in every direction as well as the way she had originally fled, she would pick a route and fly right out of their radius.

While her beaten body wasn't happy with her, this wasn't the first time she'd had a forced march while injured. She focused her mind solely on taking the next step and fell into the rhythm she had first learned in boot camp.

The uneven sidewalks cut into the bottom of her feet as the booties did nothing to protect them. But the silence they gave her in return let her hear cars coming with enough time to hide. At first there were cop cars among those she dodged, but as she covered more time and distance they became fewer. After almost an hour of walking there were few cars still on the road and no people.

Seraph leaned against the side of a building to rest. She was shivering non-stop and sweating, not good signs. On top of that, her feet were completely numb. Looking around, she saw that she had run into the warehouse district and she was alone. This was a worst-case scenario and she had no idea what to do now. Maybe Gabe would have an idea, or at least a friendly word. Reaching into her pocket for her cell phone– a shiver like a ghostly finger ran down her back, the rose was moving and it was close. Very close. She had thought that she had been running without direction, but now she saw that she had been heading straight for the rose without even realizing it.

Further down the service road, not more than ten minutes from where she stopped, was an abandoned warehouse. It's windows and doors were boarded up and there were no lights lit on the outside. Circling the building, Seraph was confused. This place didn't match her vision at all. Turning a corner, Seraph almost ran right into a massive guard standing next to the only door that wasn't boarded up.

"I think you might be lost," the man said with a voice strangely soft.

Seraph took a step back to get a better look at the guy. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses despite the night, he had biceps the width of his head, and no neck, with part of a tattoo just visible above the collar of his shirt. A utility belt held his gun as well as a flashlight. He was dressed like security, but he sure didn't look like someone you wanted to meet in a dark alley. Or behind an abandoned warehouse.

"I might be," Seraph said, backing up a step. "I think I'll just move along then." Getting into a fight with this guy right now would be new kinds of stupid. Clearly this item was guarded too. Damn it. Seraph found herself really missing her axe.

"No, I must insist that you stay. This is a dangerous place to wander around by yourself. I'm sure my employer would let you use the phone." While Seraph could hear him clearly, it seemed as if his voice never rose above a softly sibilant whisper. He remained in the same stance he had been in when she found him– feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped in front, back straight and shoulders relaxed– the picture of a guard at ease. She managed another step back with no reaction from him before she had to stop. Just like before, the voice wasn't going to let her leave without getting what she had come for.

She had no weapons and was only still standing by virtue of being too tired to find a place to lie down. Seraph looked at the guard and met him in square in his ridiculously-sunglassed-eyes. She had taken on a freaking werebear thing barehanded– a human guard with a speech impediment was nothing compared to that.

"Yeah, I could use a phone," she said.

The guard smiled and opened the door, standing to the side so she could go through first. As she passed him, he reached out and took hold of her good arm. It was a hold designed to guide and control, the same way someone would escort a prisoner in handcuffs or a captive already cowed into submission. Seraph struggled with herself not to tense under the touch.

It was poorly lit inside the warehouse, but not so dark that Seraph couldn't see. Most of it was simply one large open space. In the middle of the room were two sections of stadium seating, three levels tall, that formed quarter circles around an empty circular space. The floor was covered with a large steel plate that was ringed with razor wire. It didn’t take a genius to figure out bad things went down in this place.

Across the space was a staircase, if the rickety death trap could be called that, that led up to a office that would have been on the second floor if there had been anything under it but steel support columns. Seraph walked up the steps in front of the guard, who had let go of her now that there was nowhere she could go but forward. At the top of the steps he stopped and reached around her to knock on the door. He waited several long moments as if anticipating a response before his breath hitched and he opened the door. Before taking her first look at whatever was inside, Seraph had a second to wonder if there really had been no answer, or if she had missed something.

The door opened to the room from her vision only this time it was not empty. A woman sat at a desk at the far side of the room. She had just hung up the phone when the guard opened the door. Sitting back in her chair the woman regarded Seraph with a smile that came nowhere near her eyes. There was an Asian cast to her features, magnified by the oriental cut of the dress she wore. She was thin, which might have given the impression of frailty if it wasn't for the predatory gleam in her eyes. A thick mane of black hair framed her face and bled into the black of her outfit. She was gorgeous and completely out of place in an abandoned warehouse.

The room itself made a lot more sense to Seraph now that she was seeing it outside of her vision. It really was an old run down office that someone, the woman or more likely an employee of hers, had filled with expensive furniture. The small space had been transformed into a cross between an office and a living room, with a large black lacquered desk with matching filing cabinets dominating one wall. The rose was there, behind the woman and inside the wall. If Seraph had to guess, she would say there was a wall safe behind the one landscape painting that adorned the wall. The middle of the room focused on a very low coffee table. Pillows on the floor indicated where someone should sit on the ground. The gray concrete walls were mostly hidden behind oriental screens, and plush rugs almost covered the dirty tile floor. There were windows on the wall that looked out and down at the rest of the warehouse, doubtless for a supervisor to keep tabs on employees, but curtains now covered them. It didn’t matter– Seraph had seen enough of the warehouse coming up. Everything was oriental in theme and style, not that Seraph had the first idea which of the Asian countries the décor came from. With dark colors and a lot of black, edged in gold and silver, Seraph thought the room just this side of being tasteless.

It gave her the creeps and so did the woman who owned it.

Seraph wiped the cold sweat from her forehead with her shirtsleeve. She felt the presence of the guard behind her but she was reluctant to step into the room. The smile remained in place as the woman gracefully rose from her seat and extended her hand as if in welcome.

"Ms. Hunter, you're still alive. How wonderful," she said. "I was beginning to wonder if you would make it this far."

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