I didn’t know who to call. Didn’t know who to trust to help me think through this problem. I remembered what Occam had said, the odd quote-sounding thing.“The urge to shift and to hunt waxes strong three days out, abides the three days of, and wanes three days after. Nine nights of pleasure and nine days of hell.”So I couldn’t talk to Rick, Occam, or Paka, who had been odd for three days and would be useless starting about now. Not JoJo, who was busy with research and being lead agent during the three days of the full moon. Not T. Laine, who was dealing with the people at LuseCo. That left Tandy. Or someone higher up. LaLa, at Spook School? Or... Soul?
As I sat in the cooling C10, the enginetinging, my cell rang again and the number was JoJo’s. “Ingram,” I said.
“How fast can you get to UTMC?” she asked. “They’ve begun advanced life support on two patients, and there’s something wrong with them.”
Wrong? Other than needing advanced life support? CPR?I thought. But I didn’t say that. It might come out as sarcasm and levity, which seemed offensive in the face of a catastrophe I couldn’t understand or explain. I didn’t ask what waswrongwith the patients. In a single set of well-choreographed moves, I pulled onto the road and gunned the engine, putting my emergency light in the windshield and flipping the switch on the siren. “God willing and the creek don’t rise, ETA of twenty.”
“Be safe.” The call ended.
***
I parked in front of the paranormal unit at UTMC and pulled on a clean uni from the pack I had taken from the supply closet at HQ, clipping my badge and ID to the front. I hadn’t been wearing a gun for long, but I suddenly felt naked without it. I crossed the parking area, heading straight to the press, all camped out outside, cameras, mics, foldable chairs, and bodies that tried to block my way with all of the above as I tried to get up the steps to the doors. They shouted questions I couldn’t answer. I had been taught not to engage, not to react.
“What’s going on? Can you tell us what’s happening inside?”
“Did one of the patients die?”
“Who died?”
“Why is PsyLED involved? Is there a magic attack on the city?”
“Is it true that witch coven terrorist groups have attacked the city and planted bombs in the hospital and at city offices?”
“Do we have a biological terrorist event in Knoxville?”
That was a new one, and I almost reacted to it. Instead I said, “No comment. No comment. No comment. Excuse me. No comment.”
The guards just inside the entrance were off-duty sheriff’s deputies, armed with guns and attitude. They stepped out and eased the media people aside, opening a pathway to the entrance for me, and suddenly I was on the other side of the doors and safe inside. “Thanks, y’all,” I said.
“No problem, ma’am,” the man said.
“I don’t guess you know, or will tell us, what’s going on?” the woman deputy said, making it a question.
“Sorry. The call said to get over here, that something was wrong. I hope I’ll know more on the way out.”
“Yeah,” she said. “No one tells the county people anything. We’uns are always totally outta the loop.”
At the church-speak, my head swiveled around fast. The name on her badge was Hollar, an old church name. “Hollar? God’s Cloud?”
Her eyes widened, and I took her in, freckled face, brown hair, short but built sturdy. “A generation back,” she said. “My mama, Carla, got away in the middle of the night. She was pregnant with me. May Ree Hollar,” she said, looking at my ID and offering her hand. “Good to meet you’un, Miz Ingram.”
“Nell,” I said. “You too.” I shook hands with May Ree.
“Chris Skeeter,” the man said. “No church affiliation. And people call me Skeeter.”
“Thanks for getting me in here,” I said. “I’ll say what I can on the way out.”
“Appreciate it,” May Ree said. “And any precautions...?”
“Unis have been helpful. You got any?”
“Not a one,” May Ree said. I tossed her my keys, reciting the plate number, model, and make. “It’s my POV, an ugly C10 pickup. Open the door, but be careful as the side pockets are my evidence compartments. My backup weapon is locked in a case behind the driver’s seat, just so you know. Unis are behind the passenger seat. Take one each. Lock up when you’re done.”
“Blessed be,” May Ree said.
Which sounded Wiccan, but I said back, “Hospitality and safety.”
She grinned at me and headed outside, into the dying sunset.
