Idle Hands Ch. 04

He snorted at his timorousness. Wasn't he the son of Merihem herself? One of the eight Dukes and Duchesses of the Pit? A demon who had escaped and eluded all of God's agents for decades here on Earth? He would respect the Dark One. But he would not fear him. When he came before him, with Althea's blood red and dripping from his hands, the Lord of the Pit would raise him above all others. He would...

The pleasant fantasy was interrupted, his ear snagging on a stray thread of sound. Frowning, he replayed the file.

"...some sort of seizure outside her home. Witnesses called the EMTs and they brought her here. She's in our ICU. Dr. Marafi has been running tests on her, but she doesn't seem to have found a cause for her illness."

"Dr. Marafi..." he breathed. "What an...unusual...name." He smiled, an expression which would make most humans quail. He sat up and pulled the laptop closer to him.

It took some time, not being familiar with the spelling of the name. But in less than ten minutes he knew where Althea Carpenter's body was hiding.

"The University of Chicago Medical Center," he said. "Not the north side, Fontein, you stupid, ignorant fuck. The south side." He leaned forward and pushed a button on his desk.

"Yes, Mr. Kincaid?" a voice immediately answered.

"Bring the car around," he said. "I am going out."

"Yes, sir." The brisk efficiency in his lackey's voice would have warmed Kincaid's heart, if he had one.

Althea Carpenter, you bitch.

You are mine.

*****

They all gathered together, in the hallway in front of the door, as the last light bled from a late May sky. Alex and Maria, Jeremy and Sarah, Joshua and Rachel. Except for Jeremy, who was still in the clothes he had worn at the cookout, they were dressed in their best. In expensive skirts and dark suits and sober ties.

Althea looked at them from Rachel's eyes, spoke with Rachel's voice. And yet there was not a one of them who did not pause in awe, to hear that voice, deep and dark and rich and impossibly clear, emerging like a trumpet-call from Rachel's lips.

"Aside from Rachel, none of you know me. You are risking not only your lives, but your very souls, to rescue a woman whom you have never truly met. For all you know, I could be merely a figment of Rachel's imagination, a personality made up out of clouds and moonbeams.

"Your faith in us humbles me.

"Thank you."

Rachel spoke next. "All right. As we agreed. Jeremy drives. Sarah beside him, Josh and I behind them in the cab. Alex and Maria in the trailer. Try not to get knocked about too much back there," she said to the last pair. "Once we park, Jeremy will stay behind with the motor running. If he sees any sign of trouble, he'll send Sarah a text.

"The rest of us will go into the hospital through the front door. Not the E.R. side. There will be too much traffic there on a holiday weekend. Thanks to our recon mission this afternoon, Alex and Maria and I know where Althea's body is. Don't initiate any conversations, don't make eye contact. Walk like you own the place and hopefully no one will care enough to ask us what the hell we're doing.

"Ready? All right.

"Let's go."

*****

Yasna Marafi sat in Althea Carpenter's room. She held one of her fragile hands in her own, confused by the degree by which she had become bound to this woman in the last few weeks. She should have left hours ago, but tonight some indefinable impulse compelled her to stay.

It was unnatural, she knew. A small part of her was aware her preoccupation with Althea and her mysterious malady was verging on, and perhaps had already crossed the line into, obsession. She had been warned about the dangers of 'Nightingale Syndrome.' When a nurse or doctor became infatuated with his or her patients. But despite all the cautionary tales, she could think of little else than the light on Althea's lovely face, the sculpted beauty of her body, the faint, fleeting fragrance of her in her nostrils, which gave birth to sinful urges she thought had long since been forever extinguished.

How long until her work began to suffer? How long until she made some indefensible mistake, leading to the death of one of her other patients?

But still she sat, bound to the woman who lay in a sleep as still as death. She knew no joy but that of seeing her. Had no hope but that of hearing her voice. Knew no desire but that of her arms rising, to take her in their embrace...

A soft murmur in the hallway, then the door eased open.

"Oh, Christ," a soft voice said. "She's here."

Her head jerked around and her eyes widened, unable to believe what she saw.

"What the hell are you doing here again?" she demanded. She placed her body between the five men and women who entered the room and Althea's sleeping form. She recognized three of them from earlier in the day; the ones she had caught making love in Althea's room; the attractive older woman, the lovely Latina, and the well-built young man with his jutting beak of a nose. Two were unfamiliar; a tall, slim young woman with brown hair and small breasts, and an older, sandy-haired man, who wore an air of calm competence.

The older woman gave a huff of exasperation, but kept her voice low. "What we're doing is rescuing Althea. And you can either come along or stay here."

"Rescuing her? From what?" She tried to find her bearings, taking refuge in her own authority. "And you're not taking her anywhere without my permission."

The woman gave a dismissive hand-flip, as if her protests were all but meaningless. "From death. Or a fate even worse." She shook her head in aggravation. "I don't have time to explain. Something evil is stalking Althea. If we leave her here, she'll die. Horribly. And there's nothing you can do but die trying to protect her."

"No!" she whispered fiercely. She didn't want to draw attention, but she interposed her body between Althea and the newcomers. "I won't let you take her from me!"

The woman raked her hand through her shoulder-length hair and turned to her companions. "Damn it, we don't have time for this! God knows when Kincaid will figure out where Althea is. When he does, he'll come here and kill her!"

"You could try telling her the truth," the older man suggested mildly. At his side, the Latina woman nodded.

"Truth is your friend, Mistress," she said.

"Wait? What?" Yasna floundered, the import of their words finally sinking in. "Someone wants to hurt Althea?"

"God-damn mother-fucking cock-sucking hell," the woman, whose name, Yasna suddenly remembered, was Rachel, muttered viciously. "Right," she said, wheeling towards Yasna again. "This is the truth, and I don't give a good God-damn if you believe it or not, because this is the best explanation you're going to get. She," she said, pointing to Althea's body, "Isn't human. She is a succubus, the immortal offspring of a human and one of the Fallen, angels who refused to fight for God during the War in Heaven. Her soul was ripped out of her body and put into mine. There is a demon who knows she is incapacitated and is probably looking for her body right fucking now, so would you please let us get her out of this hospital, back to my house, and help me stuff her soul back into her body before the demon-spawn finds us and makes us all horribly and irretrievably dead?"

"Oh." Yasna blinked. The well-oiled mind which had lifted her from obscurity to chief of surgeons at one of the premier medical facilities in the United States turned over, rejecting some possibilities, accepting others. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"

"What?"

"I know she isn't human. I figured it out last night, after the lab called me and accused me of screwing around with the blood samples I sent them. She also has some very interesting bacteria colonizing at the base of her spine. And when you take into account the mutations in her vertebrae, it doesn't take a genius to figure out something strange is going on."

"Maybe not," the younger woman said. "But it does take a special kind of mind to recognize the truth, even when it is jumping up and down and yelling in your face." She slanted a quick look at the woman Yasna realized must be her mother. "We've got to take her with us, Mom. We can't leave her to Kincaid's mercy."

"Which is nonexistent," Rachel agreed. She turned back to Yasna. "Right. You might even be useful. None of us are doctors. Though Alex has had first-aid training." The young man waved at her cheerfully. "Can you help us get her ready to leave? And maybe run interference for us if someone makes trouble?"

"Of course I can." She bent to ease the catheters that fed Althea out of her arm, her fingers swift and sure. As she wrapped the area in a pressure bandage, she looked over her shoulder. "You said you're going to put her consciousness back in her body? And she's in your body now?"

"Well, we're going to give it a damn good try," Rachel said. "Josh. Alex. Don't just stand there. Get the bed ready to go out the door." Sharp as a scalpel, that one, Yasna thought. And as dangerous to a foolish hand. The two men dropped to the floor, making sure the wheels were free from any inconvenient obstructions. "And yes, she's in my body."

Yasna bit her lip as she removed the last of the sensors from Althea's skin. "Can I...can I talk to her?" she asked, her skin burning as blood flooded her face.

Rachel looked like she was about to make a sharp reply, then hesitated. The impatient look faded from her eyes, replaced by an expression of infinite tenderness. "Yasna," Rachel's voice said. But it was not Rachel. The deep, ringing tones struck a chord in her body, making her feel as if she were a huge bell chiming out the hours. She opened her arms and took Yasna into her embrace.

"My sweet child, my healer," she murmured, her breath stirring her hair. Even this gentle touch made her knees weak. "Come with us. You will find your place within our circle, and we will give you the happiness you deserve."

"Mom?" A girl's voice said urgently. "I just got a text from Jeremy. He says that a guy just pulled into the parking lot in a huge-ass SUV and ran into the hospital. He..." she swallowed and her voice was tight with fear. "Jeremy says he matches your description of Kincaid."

Yasna found herself loosed from Rachel's arms. "Oh, Christ," she muttered. "Now we're in deep shit." She closed her eyes, her mind obviously sorting possibilities. "All right," she said, opening her eyes and fixing Yasna with a piercing look. "He'll go to the front desk first to find out what room she's in. It's past visiting hours, so they'll refuse him entry at first, right?"

"Well, they'll try at least," Yasna agreed. Behind them, the young woman held the door open and the men maneuvered the bed out of the room. Walking quickly but unhurriedly, they pushed the bed down the hall towards the bank of elevators. Yasna followed them, picking up her purse and her black medical bag on her way out the door.

"Let's just hope they don't try too hard," Rachel muttered. "I don't want anyone to die on our account." Her eyes lit with black humor. "Especially us."

"Dr. Marafi?" came a hesitant question. Yasna turned to see one of the nurses looking at them, confusion in her eyes. "What's going on?"

"Keep going," she murmured to Rachel. "I'll handle this." She peeled away from the group to approach the nurse.

"We finally know a bit more about this case, Theresa," she said, her lips curved in a professional smile. "I was right. She was poisoned. Very subtly. These people," she waved a hand at the retreating forms, "are with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"The FBI?"

"Right. Ms. Carpenter is a witness in an important court case. They're taking her into protective custody."

"But..." the nurse's voice faltered, then firmed. "Shouldn't we see some ID? And there are procedures before we release a patient."

"I've already verified their identities," she said, her voice brisk and competent. Inside her head, she was cursing the woman's commitment to her duty, and the hours she had spent drilling that very attitude into her staff. "And a paper trail would just alert those who wish her harm that we are aware of them."

She caught Theresa's eyes, speaking quickly. In the distance, she heard the chime of an elevator. "Spread the word. If anyone besides a member of the hospital staff comes here to ask about Ms. Carpenter, tell them she has been transferred to another facility for additional tests. Play dumb. And if you can, call the police. Anyone who comes looking for her is going to be very dangerous." She paused, wondering if she should say more, then shook her head. "I have to go. Be safe, and may Allah protect you."

She turned and walked towards the elevators. By the time she reached them, she was nearly running.

*****

The ride down to the ground floor was quiet and tense, the atmosphere charged with fear. When the doors slid open, Rachel helped them guide the bed out of the elevator, then held up her hand, bidding them to silence and stillness.

"He knows me," she said softly. "And Josh, from some of the functions we've attended together. He might even have seen Alex in the courtroom last week. Sarah. Go around the corner and tell me if you see anyone."

The young woman was back in seconds, shaking her head. "Empty, Mom."

"All right. Nice and steady. Sarah, go hold the outside doors open."

For the rest of her life, Yasna remembered the moments which followed. The cool air of the hospital, smelling as always, of old flowers and antiseptic. The click of their heels echoing back off the walls, the slight squeak of one wobbling wheel as they pushed Althea's bed down the corridor. The acid taste of fear in her mouth.

As they exited the building, a truck with a small U-Haul trailer attachment pulled up to the curb. As soon as it had screeched to a halt, a young man jumped out and heaved up the door of the trailer.

"Hurry," Josh said. He and Alex lifted the bed, letting the legs collapse as they slid it into the bed of the trailer. Alex and Maria scrambled in, and the young man pulled down the door and bolted it closed with a bang.

"Oh, fuck," Sarah said. She was looking back towards the building they had just left. "Mom? Is that him?"

They all whirled to face the hospital. Through the glass doors, at the end of the hall, a figure was standing, looking at them. It was much too far away for Yasna to make out any details about his face or expression, but she still received an impression of vicious, soulless hate. The sort of hate which would see the whole world drowned in death and blood and merely consider it a satisfactory start.

"Yes," Rachel said. "That's him." Her voice seemed oddly serene, but Yasna could see how pale her face was. "Into the truck. Jeremy, it is not possible to drive too fast. Do you understand me?"

Suddenly released from their immobility, the five of them dashed for the doors of the truck. Yasna found herself jammed into the front seat between and Jeremy and Josh. Rachel and her daughter were in the back seat.

"Go," Sarah chanted, almost moaning with fear. "Go, go, go!"

"I'm going!" Jeremy shouted, sounding almost as scared as she. With a lurch, he put the vehicle in gear and the truck pulled away from the curb, slowly gaining speed, hampered by the trailer and the narrow, constricted aisles of the parking lot.

Yasna looked in the side mirror, and felt her blood run cold. Far faster than a human could run, the figure was blazing down the hall. It did not pause when it reached the doors. Instead, it raised its hand, and they blewapart in a hail of shattered glass and twisted metal. Still accelerating, the figure pursued them across the parking lot, even as the remnants of the doors pelted down on to the roof of the truck. A huge chunk crashed down on the windshield on the passenger side, starring the glass and making Yasna flinch in fright.

"Jeremy?" Rachel's voice was tight.

"Gotta get out of here," he muttered tensely, turning a corner and accelerating towards the exit onto 58^th Street. "Once I get out of this damn maze and onto the expressway, we can lose him. I don't care if he is a demon. There's no way the bastard can run eighty miles an hour.

"Can he, Rachel?"

"No," came her voice from behind. "Forty miles an hour tops." A pause. "Well, maybe sixty. But only for short stretches."

"Oh, God," Sarah's voice choked out from behind them. "Here he comes!"

The demonic form behind them was rapidly catching up, its legs and feet a churning blur, taking impossible long steps. Jeremy finally maneuvered the bulky truck out of the parking lot and stomped on the gas, making the vehicle leap forward. But Kincaid cut the corner, using the angle to close the distance even more.

"Rachel, call Alex and Maria," he bit out. Yasna could see his eyes flickering from the dashboard to the rapidly approaching intersection to the side mirror, judging distance and speed. "Tell them it's going to get bumpy back there."

His hand hovered over the turn signal, then turned it on, signaling a left-hand turn. "No cars coming," he muttered, eying the T-intersection ahead. "Thank God." Yasna chewed her lip. Kincaid was only yards behind them, a clawlike hand reaching for the rear bumper. Just when Yasna thought they must brake or blow through the intersection and into Washington Park, Jeremy hauled the wheel around to the left, banking the truck and its burden in a long, looping turn that brought them up onto the curb for several heart-stopping moments before they settled on the street again.

"Ha!" Jeremy howled, his face fierce with glee. "Take that, you stupid bastard!" A new glance in the mirror showed her that Kincaid had fallen behind by several hundred feet.

"What?" Rachel asked, shoving her phone into her purse.

"Turned on my signal, showing that I was going to go left. He thought I was lying, so he was cheating to the right. I caught him off balance. Double-crossed him, and went left anyway. Takes a while to slow down when you're going that fast," Jeremy chortled, taking another left onto Cottage Grove Avenue.

"Don't get cocky, kid," Joshua warned. "He's coming again, faster than ever. And he looks pissed." He leaned forward and opened the glove compartment. Yasna's eyes widened as she saw the slim, deadly form of a handgun resting there, as mindless and vicious as a rattlesnake. Josh picked it up, looked it over, and rolled down the window.

"How far to the expressway?" Rachel asked from behind them.

"Two miles, maybe three," Jeremy gritted through his teeth. He jerked the wheel sharply to the right, trying to deke the pursuing demon. "But the way he's coming, he's going to catch us by the time we hit 63^rd Street. Dammit!"

"Calm down, Jeremy," Josh said. Yasna could not believe how he could sound so serene. "Slide over to the left a bit, so when he catches us, he'll be on my side."

"I don't suppose those are silver bullets in there, are they, Dad?" Despite the choking fear, Yasna laughed hysterically at the joke, as did Josh and Rachel.

"Sorry, Pumpkin," he replied. A broad grin flashed across his face, making him suddenly, unexpectedly handsome in Yasna's eyes. "I think I left them in my other jacket," he said to more giggles.

"Here he comes," Jeremy said. At the last moment he jerked the wheel to the left. From behind came a lurch, as if a heavy weight had landed on the trailer.

"God, he's fucking huge," Josh said. Yasna agreed helplessly. The monster behind them was at least eight feet tall, and in the strobing glare of the passing streetlights, his skin looked dark and slimy, as if he were covered in corrosive acid. He drew pack one massive fist and punched through the wall of the trailer, then began to peel strips of metal away, as if he were some sort of horrible burrowing insect. Shouts and scream reached their ears from inside the trailer, then were lost in the howling wind.