CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Delgado woke all at once,snapping painfully into full consciousness.The chair squeaked as he bolted upright, the knifehilt in his hand.
The long, trailing psychic scream came again, loaded with despair and pain.Someone in the infirmary was having another nightmare.
Rowan was already out of bed, and by the look on her face, still half asleep.She hit the door at a run, bare feet shushing over hardwood; he was right behind her—so close a long strand of her hair brushed his cheek before he matched his pace to hers.She ran down the hall and took a sharp right.He had time to admire the clean economy of her stride before she took another right and bolted into the infirmary, slowing only slightly.
The young boy sitting on the bed was blank-eyed and white-faced, his mouth open.He inhaled to scream again; Rowan skidded to a stop right next to him.Two other patients were beginning to sit up and reach for their bedside tables, and another two lay sedated and sleeping soundly.
Rowan grabbed the boy’s hand.His inhale stopped, and for one long breathless second Delgado waited, ready to move if the boy exploded into motion.
The kid was only eleven, but he was wiry and terror would give him strength.Last time he’d had a nightmare like this he’d almost clocked Rowan a good one; would have, if Del hadn’t grabbed his arm.
Then the child exhaled, his eyelids drooping.“Rowan?”he slurred.
“It’s me.”There was no trace of sleep or impatience in her voice.There never was, when she was working with the wounded.“Just relax, Bobby.I’m here.”
“It’s sodark,” the boy whimpered, his face crumpling.Delgado scanned the infirmary.He was glad his room was so close to this ward, used for the most critical cases.It was the only place Rowan actually seemed content.
“It’s Rowan,” a thin woman with a bandaged head whispered to the other conscious patient, a stocky man with incredible sideburns who was hooked up to an IV.“Go back to sleep.”
“Hard to sleep with all the ruckus,” the man growled back.“Hey, Del.”
“How’s it going, Boomer?”Delgado answered.Boom had been shot in the gut by a Sigma team in Las Vegas.
“Shitty,” Boomer replied, prompt and decisive.
“Watch your language.”Eleanor, sharply.“There’re kids here.”
“It’s all right,” Rowan said softly, almost crooning.“I’m here, Bobby.Tell me about it.What happened?”
Del supposed she’d had a lot of practice dealing with terror at the mental hospital.
“They’ve heard worse,” Boomer said.
“Let her work, Boomer,” Eleanor chided him.
“It’s so d-dark,” Bobby said.“There’s a spider hanging from a helicopter.The helicopter looks funny.Then they’re inside the house, and it’s dark.”
The tension in Delgado’s shoulders eased.He scanned the infirmary one more time and decided nobody was lurking between the beds.He was dragging up a chair for Rowan when the night nurse Emily arrived, holding a mug of coffee.She saw them and stopped, her mouth rounding into a softOof surprise.
“We heard him,” Del told her.“It’s all right.Everyone’s okay.”Where the hell were you, dilettante?You’re always off doing something else when you should be paying attention on your shift.Wish we had more medical personnel so we could put you on the kitchen roster.You deserve it.
“I just went for coffee,” she whispered.“Everyone was sleeping.”
“It’s okay.”Coffee my ass.Were you playing grabsies with that lanky guy from Eric’s team again?You should have been at your post.
“Christ, I’d need coffee too,” Boomer growled.Eleanor shushed him again.The Sigs had captured her team and almost washed her with Zed before another team could get to her.Following a short, vicious firefight, Eleanor had been the only one of her squad left alive.
“Bobby,” Rowan said, “I’d like to help you, the way I did before.May I?”
The little boy, shivering, gazed up at her with open adoration.
Delgado knew the feeling.You wouldn’t know that he saw his family murdered right in front of him, barely escaped the Sigs, got caught again, and then got scooped up by us during transport.It’s a wonder he doesn’t havemorenightmares.A cool finger touched his nape.Rowan didn’t take the chair he dragged up to the bedside, but she might later.
“Oh, sure.”Bobby perked up a little, a tentative gaptooth smile showing.“Like you did when I got here?”
“Just like that, kiddo.Feels like it was years ago, doesn’t it?”Rowan eased herself down so she was sitting on the bed, still holding Bobby’s hand.The boy curled down against his pillows, nestling into the covers.The IV taped to the back of his other hand would dispense another shot of antibiotic in twenty minutes or so, dealing with the infection from his weeks of wandering through city streets.His broken arm was still sealed in a cast.“I’ll tell you a story, too, if you’re awake afterward.”
