Black Magic Rose Read online

  She’d been practicing tracking the wolves all day, which was probably the reason she hadn’t made any headway in her actual work. To her surprise, the closer she got to the ER, the less she had to try to notice anyone. Energy moved in fits and bursts all across the ground floor.

  Jamieson had left his post. Now sitting at the front desk was one of the volunteers. Mrs. Sheehan looked up from her magazine. “It’s a madhouse in there.” She hitched a thumb toward the ER and turned back to the article.

  The ER no longer looked like a hospital. It now resembled a news scene after a prison riot. Furniture was tossed about. Loose papers floated in the air. Light fixtures dangled back and forth by thin cords. Growls erupted behind curtains. Doctors barked orders at nurses. The pharmacist ran back and forth handing out medication and trying to help where she could.

  The curtain for room one jerked open and the charge nurse, Janet, marched out. “Just hold him like that Jamieson. I’ll get the chain.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sofia’s jaw dropped. Old Mr. Jamieson, whom she was certain had to be in his eighties, sat on the floor with a burly young man at least twice as wide as he trapped between his legs in a scissors hold. He wrenched the man’s arm behind his back and held his head cradled against his chest in a chokehold.

  The young man panted and moaned, rocking as if in some sort of trance.

  Sofia stood at the nurse’s station, watching the nurses and doctors deal with what appeared to be complete chaos. Screaming patients threw equipment and the staff dodged, ducked, and restrained. It was absolute pandemonium.

  Fergus removed a pair of thick winter gloves hanging on hooks above the nurse’s station. “Janet, what’s the report?” He reached beneath the nurse’s desk and slid a box forward.

  “Six victims. Two in tachycardia, two in shock, one subdued with Dilodid, but the effects are wearing off, one still holed up in the ambulance.” The nurse put on a pair of gloves and reached into the box to pull out a long silver chain. “You and Rick take room three. Room one is almost done, though we’ll need someone to sit with him. Then I’ll get room two. Room four should be fine for a few more minutes. But once her body processes the meds, forget it. She ripped the door off the hinges coming in.”

  Screaming, Charlie sailed through the emergency room entrance, where the doors no longer hung. He landed on his back beside Sofia. “Hey! What are you doing down here?” He scrambled to his feet and ran toward the door before she could answer.

  Janet shook her head.

  “He’s doing fine.” Fergus pulled on the gloves and wrapped a length of chain around his hand. “Osgar with him?”

  Janet nodded.

  Fergus handed one end of the chain to Rick. “Let’s get these done. They need to be moved to the Lower Level right away. This department wasn’t built to handle this magnitude of traumas.”

  The three shot off in opposite directions. The ER had gone from a medical unit to a wrestling ring.

  From the nurses station Sofia watched as Janet knelt beside the man in room one. “What’s your name?” Her tone was matter-of-fact and her movements firm, yet gentle. She wrapped the chain around his neck, appearing unfazed by his groans.

  He glared and panted through gritted teeth. His eyes bulged and darted from left to right and back again, never settling on anything.

  Sofia hadn’t ever seen anything like this. She wasn’t accustomed to being with screaming, frightened patients. The ones she’d seen on the units upstairs were calmer, quiet. Someone cried out, a piercing, terrified cry. Sofia’s heart sped. She had to focus on remaining calm, pushing back her fear of what might happen.

  Janet’s fingers went to the man’s wrist, and she remained silent for several seconds. “His pulse is two-twenty. He may not even make it to sunset.” She draped the chains down his back and around his wrists then hogtied him, winding the chain in and around itself in a figure eight.

  “Sofia, come here.” Janet waved her over. “I need your help.”

  Sofia stumbled forward, wanting to help and praying she didn’t lose courage and run. “Is this how you typically care for psych patients?” Sofia knelt down beside the man. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t legal.” She motioned to the chain restraint.

  A metal pan clanged on the floor across the department and skittered past room one as if it had been launched from a cannon. Instruments pelted the nurse’s desk and a feral scream pierced the air. Sofia ducked in time to avoid being hit by an IV pole that had been thrown like a javelin straight into the room.

  “Call Osgar,” Dr. O’Rourke yelled. “Stat.” He ran past them into room two, drawing the curtain behind him and barking orders. “Let’s get him on the table. Get the straps. We’ll secure him and move him down.”

  “Osgar! Osgar!” The secretary yelled toward the open door.

  “This guy’s not a psych patient. None of them are. They just think they’re going crazy. Stay with him. Yell if anything weird happens,” Janet said. Then she and Jamieson ran from the room, Janet giving orders and Jamieson running toward the open doors of the ambulance.

  “Osgar! Osgar!” The secretary leaned over the desk toward the door, yelling even louder than before.

  “Betty! He’s outside and busy. Stop yelling.” Janet swatted at the secretary before darting into room two.

  A woman cried in room five. “What’s happening to my son?” She tried to lean past the technician in the doorway.

  “We’re taking care of him, ma’am. Let me help you. What’s your name?” He guided her back to a chair.

  “Melanie. Melanie Andrews. That’s Michael, my youngest boy. He’s sixteen.” Her voice cracked.

  Michael screamed, a sound the likes of which Sofia had never heard. It was a cry of pain, of agony. She looked down at the man she’d been told to stay with. His breathing quickened, every breath a shorter, faster pant than the one before. She rubbed his arm. “It’s going to be fine. They’ll take good care of you here.” Though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed herself. She’d never heard of a hospital where they restrained the patients quite like this.

  Sofia forced herself to focus on room two, to try to sense what was happening behind the curtain.

  Dragomir hadn’t been kidding. Wolves were obvious. There was no doubt about it. They were entirely different from him. Tracking him was like monitoring a phantom, difficult at best. His energy seemed to fade and disappear, then reappear elsewhere. Sofia had stumbled several times trying to keep track of him.

  But the wolves were another story. Their energy never faded. Instead a constant stream of busy life flowed from one wolf to the other literally connecting each of them with one another. And if emotions or excitement were involved, the energy raged.

  As easily as she could see the secretary standing at the desk, she felt four different werewolf energies in room two. Each individual current coursed into the next, merging together and focusing in one direction, for one cause.

  “Get his shirt off and find the bite. The least we can do is ease the pain,” Dr. O’Rourke said.

  “Aye, doctor.” The sound of shredding clothes followed.

  “It’s here, on his waist. Let’s get the jeans off,” another voice said, and the shredding continued.

  A tortured scream ripped through the air.

  “Michael, look at me,” Dr. O’Rourke ordered. “Look at me, son. We’re going to help you. Pay attention to my voice.”

  The four energies flowed together, and the young man’s screaming quieted to whimpers. Soft murmurs escaped from behind the curtain. Sofia strained to understand the words, but it was useless. She couldn’t comprehend the low chanting.

  Coming through the doors from the ambulance, Osgar wrestled with another panting and grunting man. “Get the straps. We’ll bring him down after we secure him.” He tumbled to the floor with the man, rolled over, and grabbed the man’s arm to keep him from pulling a nearby stretcher down on top of them.

  “We need more help in
here,” a nurse yelled from room five. “Call the floors. They need to send someone down.”

  Melanie Andrews stood on a gurney screeching. Her blond hair was a wild mess above her contorted face. She breathed with an open mouth, groaning with each exhale. Her body hunched forward as though she was about to launch herself off the table.

  “Sure thing,” Betty called.

  Sofia scooted further into the room dragging her panting patient with her, but keeping her attention focused on the open doorway. She did a double take when she found Betty, her desktop computer, and phone all under the desk.

  The secretary smiled at her. “Oh, this job gets a little hairy sometimes. I’m better able to get my work done down here.” She held the phone on her shoulder, fixed the headband holding her hair back, and smiled. “It’s been crazy around here lately. But that just makes the time pass quickly.” She held up a finger to her lips. “Ruth? Yeah, it’s Betty…”

  The man on the floor with Osgar growled. “Get off me!” His deep voice held an almost demonic tone.

  Osgar wrapped a length of chain around the man’s neck, across his chest, and around his knees. “Damn that burns.” He stood up and blew on the palm of his hand. Blisters oozed and the skin peeled.

  A pair of gloves flew over the desk. “Use these,” Betty yelled from her cubby.

  “Thanks, Betty.” Osgar grimaced and slid the gloves on.

  “What’s your name?” Sofia asked the patient on the floor beside her.

  “Ollie.” He managed to answer. His teeth chattered and his body shook. “What’s wrong with me?” Sweat poured down his face and neck. His short salt-and-pepper hair matted to his head.

  “I don’t know.” Sofia wiped her sleeve across his face. “I’ll get a nurse.”

  “No. Don’t leave me.” He glanced back at Sofia. The pupils of his wide brown eyes constricted to pinpricks. The fear in his voice frightened Sofia. He was a big, rugged man, yet his voice cracked and his jaw quivered.

  “I won’t.” She reached up for a towel and settled back behind him, dabbing his face and neck. “What happened to all of you?”

  “We were taking a break out behind the barn. Two wolves came—” His teeth chattered, and he groaned when his body jerked into a giant cramp.

  Sofia rubbed his arm. He tensed with such force she couldn’t comfort him.

  The spasm lasted about half a minute, though it seemed like an hour. When it ended Ollie gasped and choked. Sofia worked her fingers under the chain around his neck, trying to wiggle a little breathing room for him.

  “I ain’t seen a pack of wolves around in twenty years.” He coughed. “Water. Can you give me a drink?”

  “Yes, of course.” Sofia grabbed a cup from the counter around the tiny sink behind them. She cradled Ollie’s head as she held the cup for him. Just a few sips were all he took. “Were you bitten?”

  “Yeah. All of us.” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t think rabies took hold so fast.” He panted.

  Poor guy. Even Sofia knew they didn’t have rabies. This was something far worse and with no known cure or vaccination.

  She wet the towel in her hand with the remaining water and pressed it to his forehead.

  Convulsions gripped him again, only this time, they didn’t let up. He remained cramped for several minutes at a time, getting only a few seconds of relief between each attack. His eyes remained wide. His breathing stopped and started in short fits. Sofia rested her hand on his chest. His heart pounded so fast she thought he might have a heart attack.

  “Janet! Janet!” Sofia yelled, not willing to leave Ollie alone to suffer.

  Ollie screamed a low guttural roar. His body contorted, head twisting back to stare at her, a look of raw terror. He curled back his lips and his face changed. His body thrashed against the chains that bound him. Right in front of her Sofia watched him begin to morph into a wolf.

  Trapped in the damn little room, she scooted as far away as possible.

  Ollie’s body stiffened, veins bulging in his neck, muscles constricting over bone. He howled. The chains around his feet came loose, and he jerked into a seated position, spinning toward Sofia, eyes fixed on her. He twisted his body, wriggling his shoulders and banging his hands back and forth against the chains until the metal slid down his chest.

  His head jerked back and he howled at the ceiling. When he lowered his chin and his gaze returned to Sofia’s, his face was anything but human. His jaw had elongated to a snout. Fur covered his face. And drool dripped from his snapping jaws. He lurched forward.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Again, on your ass.” Dragomir yanked Ollie from the room, securing the silver chain around him and clamping a padlock into place. The noises Ollie made alternated between grunts and bloodcurdling screams. “Osgar, take this one.”

  Osgar and Jamieson gathered the new werewolf onto a stretcher and wheeled him into the elevator.

  Dragomir helped Sofia to her feet.

  “For your information, I put myself on the floor to help him.” She pointed toward the elevator. “Ollie.” Her eyes filled and she turned away. “He was afraid,” she whispered.

  “Naturally.” Dragomir tossed his gloves onto the stretcher and retrieved her shoe from underneath, holding it for her to slip into. “The idea is to stay off your ass and keep your shoes on your feet. You never know when you’re going to need them.” He stepped aside to allow Sofia to pass. “Did you practice?”

  She swiped at her cheeks then squared her shoulders and stepped from the room, looking both ways like she was preparing to cross a street. “Yes. All day on the wolves.” She straightened her blouse and dusted off her pants. Half her hair fell around her shoulders with the rest still trapped in a very loose bunch at her neck. She tugged the fastener free and let the rest fall in black waves sending that floral scent wafting.

  Dragomir quietly inhaled. Lilacs? No. Berries—yes. But what is that damn flower?

  “Though it didn’t require much effort today.” She looked around, eyes wide, head shaking.

  The Emergency Room was quiet, and though it didn’t appear to be able to handle more patients any time soon, Dragomir was certain they’d see another round like this one before dawn.

  “I imagine not. Jankin has asked that you attend the debriefing on this afternoon’s events.” Dragomir motioned toward the open elevator where Ollie lay on a stretcher flanked by Osgar and Jamieson.

  Sofia sighed. Dragomir knew she’d only been asked to attend one other meeting. That was her first introduction to The Board. And she’d been very clear about never wanting to be invited again. Dragomir understood how meeting with them wasn’t the most relaxing or welcoming experience.

  They didn’t trust anyone until you’d proven your loyalty and even then they reserved judgment for a few hundred years. Then there was the little issue of the power contained in the room when they were all assembled.

  It didn’t bother Dragomir and never had. By the time he’d attended his first meeting with The Board, he’d been a master for several hundred years and was closely aligned with Jankin, thus they accepted him fairly quickly. He’d heard newer, weaker vampires describe it like being forced to sit in a high voltage room with live wires sparking.

  Dragomir nudged her forward.

  “I thought we had other things to practice tonight.” She stepped into the elevator.

  “We do.” Dragomir pressed the button marked “LL” and down they went.

  “Hmm. So you’d rather spend a night alone with the dead guy than go to a board meeting. Interesting,” Osgar commented, staring straight ahead.

  Sofia tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Be quiet.” She glanced at the wolf strapped to the gurney. He twisted and howled. Sofia flinched and her breath caught.

  “Don’t worry, Sofia. He can’t get loose.” Jamieson yanked a strap.

  She nodded. “I know.” Her words were merely a breathy acknowledgement, barely concealing her emotions.

  Still in the throes
of changing, Ollie’s face was partially morphed and his hands and feet had turned to claws. In a few hours he’d be a fully developed werewolf with little to no self-control and more than slightly terrifying.

  Sofia reached over and rubbed his arm. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Ollie.” Then she swiped her sleeve across his sweaty brow.

  “Sofia, once he gets through tonight it will get easier,” Osgar explained, handing her a handkerchief.

  She nodded and dabbed Ollie’s forehead.

  “I gave that to you for these.” Osgar brushed his fingers over her cheek and wiped away the tears running from her eyes.

  Dragomir clenched his jaw. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from removing Osgar’s hand and not just from Sofia’s face. The sudden desire to rip Osgar’s arm from his shoulder was almost too much to bear.

  Sofia wiped the back of her hand over her cheeks. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  “The first change is always the worst. They fight it. It’s instinct and fear, but once he’s done it and found he’ll live through it, he’ll be able to do it faster and with less pain.” Osgar patted Ollie’s back.

  Dragomir had seen hundreds of humans change, knew it hurt, but never thought much of it. It was part of the process, like becoming a vampire, which hurt like hell and lasted longer than the wolf transformation. This guy would be physically fine in a few hours. Vampires took a full twenty-four hours to change, and if you’d been bitten just before dawn it could take another eight to twelve hours depending on the time of year. New vampires always rose in the dark.

  Would Sofia have shown this much concern for a “dead guy?”

  Before the elevator doors opened to reveal an awaiting medical crew, Osgar and Jamieson began chanting. The low hum was meant to calm and guide a wolf through the transformation. Janet, Meg, and Dr. O’Rourke’s voices filtered into the elevator, and the five wolves escorted Ollie down the hall to the room where he’d spend the rest of the night and most of the next couple weeks.