Everyone in the car nodded silently because that was the understatement of the century.
Pulling into the parking garage of the hospital, I vaguely wondered what the staff would think of us. We hadn’t been to this hospital before. No one had changed, so we all wore blood on us somewhere since we had checked the pulses of the dead men, even when it was obvious they were goners. I fumbled inside a side compartment, hoping…yes, there were some moist toilettes there. Most of the cars at our house had them since Nikki and Beth always seemed to have sticky hands.
We hopped out of the car, and I took a few and passed the package along to Daniil first since his face had blood splattered all over it and more disturbing things in his hair from when Ember had blown away the last guy.
He blinked at me, and I muttered, “Your face. The nurses will think you need help if they see you like that.” Our clothes couldn’t be helped. I had a streak of blood on each pant leg Ember had touched, but we could at least clean our skin. Thankfully, my boots were black so nothing I had stepped in would show too bad.
He nodded mutely, pulling a few out and handing it off to Eva as the other vehicles pulled up next to us. And so the moist toilettes were passed to each individual that got out of the cars, all of us cleaning ourselves the best we could without a mirror as we walked toward the stairs, not even going to the elevator since our group was too big. We dumped the now rust colored moist toilettes in the trashcan by the steel door and made our way up the stairs.
I glanced back and turned back around, walking next to Daniil. This was one hell of a group. Everyone looked scary as hell, rightly so, with almost all of them trained killers and half the group with mobster to their name. I was betting the receptionist was going to hit the ‘oh shit’ button.
I was right.
About ten cops showed up immediately after we entered the hospital, following us as we made our way through the hallways to the waiting room where the freaked out nurse had pointed a finger toward. It surprised me the cops were already here. I figured it would take at least five minutes for them to arrive. I tried to look as harmless as possible, but it didn’t help much. Only a heavy dose of miracle would help our group.
And then, I saw why we already had ten cops on us as we rounded a corner to a large open sterile area with seats spread all over, only two of them occupied—one with an old man and the other with a teenage boy. They both looked freaked. As did the other five cops—new ones—who were already standing against the walls of the waiting area.
They all stared at the lone man who paced back and forth from one wall to the other, his muscles bulging on his bare torso, his arms crossed, his black cargos riding low on his waist, and his black army boots pounding against the floor. His face was turned down toward the ground, his red-streaked black hair dangling around his face, hiding his features. It didn’t help much that he had blood all over his hands, forearms, chest, and stomach, stalking the floor like a caged lion.
Grigori.
Our group stopped in our tracks, everyone bumping into each other. I got an elbow in my back, but ignored it, wondering where I could sit that would be farthest away from him. I wasn’t the only one with that idea because, suddenly, a portion of our group darted away before I could and took all the chairs that seemed like a safe distance.
Daniil leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I need to speak with my son. Stay with Roman and Zane while I do.”
I sighed and stayed close to Roman and Zane, as he said. The three of us waited for Grigori to pass in his stalk before we darted behind him to chairs against the wall in the middle of the room, facing outward, giving us a fine view of everyone. The ten cops added their numbers to the other five, standing around the square room, taking us all in, looking dazed and frightened.
Their faces became even more comical when Daniil stopped right in front of his son, halting Grigori’s stalk, standing toe-to-toe with him. The cops’ gazes darted back and forth, obviously seeing the uncanny resemblance. They actually placed their hands on their guns.
Jesus. That was so not what we needed right now.
Grigori wouldn’t look up at his father, even as Daniil started talking to him. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could hear the deep, soothing tone he was using. I really wanted to hear what he was saying, especially because, after a few minutes, Grigori’s shoulders lowered a fraction. That would be useful information to have if he ever got this way again when his father wasn’t around. His father kept talking to him, even as his eyes darted around the room, lifting an arm and snapping his fingers at one of his bodyguards, motioning for him to come over. The bodyguard seriously looked like that was the last place he wanted to be, but he stood and walked over, Daniil only breaking his hushed words with his son to order the guy to give him his shirt.
The shirt came off quicker than I have seen anyone undress before. Luckily, he had a white undershirt on underneath, even if it was a little sweat soaked. After the bodyguard had left them, Daniil started speaking to his son again, grabbing his hand, and making him take the shirt. I was kind of surprised he didn’t actually put it on him since he had fingered it like he was going to, rolling it up and even stretching the neck, but he didn’t.
Sharply, Grigori’s chest expanded, and he nodded, putting the shirt on. His father placed his arm around his shoulders and guided him our way. I tensed. I didn’t want him over here right now. I glanced around and saw there were only a few remaining seats in the place and only two next to each other directly beside Roman.
Fuck.
Roman didn’t look bothered with him coming over, but his face was so damn carefully blank I knew it was an act. He stood from his chair and moved down, allowing for Daniil to sit directly next to me and taking the position of comfort on Grigori’s other side.
Daniil held my hand softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand while he continued speaking reassuring words to his oldest son. The cops had taken their hands off their guns, seeing that Grigori’s clone was actually calming him and not making the situation worse. My heart rate was going crazy from the drugs, and I started tapping my toe and fidgeting as silence descended on our group.
I asked Zane, “You’re sure the drugs aren’t harmful to the babies?”
He nodded efficiently. “Yes. They took care to make sure those weren’t.”
Daniil paused in his talk to glance in my direction. “I’ve confirmed with the doctor too. Our babies are fine.”
I blinked. “When did you have time to do that?”
He smirked a little. “I have my ways.”
Yes. Yes, he did.
For the next hour, people in our group kept popping out of their seats to wander around, the juice in their systems not letting them relax, only to sit back down and start fidgeting like I was. The cops’ eyes were still wary, watching our group that looked like a macabre act on crack. They didn’t stop anyone’s trekking, though. They just stood there as if they could actually keep this group contained. I stifled a giggle at that thought and jumped out my seat for a little energy release of my own.
Two hours later, Dr. Benedict entered the room, staring down at a chart. She wore scrubs and didn’t look at all tired even though the color of her clothes drained her naturally pale skin even more. The room stilled, and she flipped a sheet and kept reading, asking into the quiet, “Is there a…Grigori Kozar here?”
