Broken Angel Read online

  The EMTs began to carefully maneuver the gurney out of the ambulance. “Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, severe neck trauma, appears to be a class-four hemorrhage. Tons of blood at the scene…we’re not sure how he’s still hanging on. We’ve been applying pressure with lap pads.”

  Mara’s breath caught in her throat as the gurney hit the ground and she saw the full extent of the man’s injuries. He looked as though every bone in his body had been broken. His face was ruined, his arms and legs had been broken, and bones peeked through his torn jeans and shirt. A bag of saline was delivering fluids to the patient through the IV tube that snaked on top of his body, the needle buried in his arm. The EMT holding gauze to the neck wound slipped as he stepped out of the ambulance, his grip on the patient faltered and Mara lunged forward, slapping her hand over the man’s ruined neck. With a sharp intake of breath, both EMTs took a step back and stared at her. Shit. She’d obviously moved too quickly without thinking. Casting around quickly for a distraction, Mara re-focused their attention on the patient.

  “Tell me about the rest of the injuries.” She hopped up on the gurney and straddled the patient in order to maintain a better hold on his neck. The EMTs surged into action, pushing the gurney as quickly as they could through the hospital doors and into the emergency room.

  “Lacerations and abrasions, multiple compound limb fractures, the patient was tacky, so a saline drip was administered in the field.” One of the EMTs shouted as they charged through the ER, nurses and orderlies jumping out of the path of the gurney.

  “The police will send someone over to interview him if he survives. They want his clothes for evidence; a knife was recovered at the scene. A woman who witnessed the attack and called 911 said he was beaten by another male before his throat was slashed. The attacker fled the scene when he heard her.”

  Tendrils of Mara’s fiery hair escaped her bun and whipped in front of her eyes as the gurney zipped through the ER. She shouted at a staff nurse as they passed. “I need OR 2, and page Doctor Stewart; I’m going to need all the help I can get.” The nurse nodded quickly as she ran to the nearest wall phone to carry out the requests. Mara twisted her head around to shout back towards the nurse. “I need as much type O blood delivered to the OR as we can get.”

  Orderlies ran forward, taking control of the gurney from the EMTs as they made their way through the emergency department to OR 2. Looking down at her patient, Mara took a deep breath and slid the edge of her latex glove down past her wrist. With a quick flick of her fingernail she scored her skin, allowing a thin stream of blood to flow onto the patient’s neck wound. She would never have made a conscious choice to become a vampire, but there were a lot of perks to having blood that sealed wounds. She’d been able to save countless patients that had been deemed beyond help. Logically, Mara knew there was no great cosmic balance sheet, but with every person saved she still felt like she was making up for her past.

  Mara mentally shook herself free from the memories that were her first thirty years of life after her turning. She gazed down at her wrist as it sealed itself, the skin knitting together, and the thin red line paling back to match the surrounding tissue. It was as if the cut had never been. She flicked her eyes back to the patient’s neck and sucked in a sharp breath. Blood was still leaking out around her fingers, the wound had improved slightly to her highly focused vampire eyes, but the man was still dying on the gurney beneath her. This shouldn’t be happening. His artery should have repaired itself, leaving the rest of his wounds to be tended by traditional medical care. Mara was frowning down in confusion at the oozing blood as the gurney slammed through the doors of the OR. Alex came rushing out of the scrub room, hands in the air as a surgical nurse came forward to help him into a pair of gloves.

  “What do we have here…and why are you on top of the patient?” he asked as the gloves were snapped onto his hands.

  “This was the easiest way to maintain compression while we were moving. I need you to take over while I scrub in.” Mara cast her eyes around the organized chaos of the OR as nurses scrambled to set up instrument trays and hung IV bags. “I need a central line started, let’s get him going on broad spectrum antibiotics and get some blood into him.”

  Alex leaned into her and whispered into her ear so quietly that only she could pick up the sound of his voice with her highly-tuned hearing. “Why didn’t you give him your blood? This is obviously an arterial dissection…”

  Mara turned to look him dead in the eye. “I did.”

  Alex gave a low whistle and raised his eyebrow. He reached down and took over compression as Mara slid off the gurney as carefully as she could to avoid jostling the patient. As she hurried back to the scrub room she heard Alex shouting instructions to the surgical team while he got ready to operate.

  As Mara scrubbed, she looked through the window above the sink at the operating theatre beyond. The opening strains of “Passive” by A Perfect Circle sounded throughout the room. Mara smiled. They both liked listening to rock and alternative during surgery. Good thing he’d picked one of her favourite albums, ‘cause this surgery was going to be a doozy. She hit the nozzle on the sink with the back of her hand to shut off the water, and turned towards the scrub nurse who held out an operating gown. Mara stepped forward and slid her arms into the gown. She took a deep breath as it was fastened around her.

  Mara never lost patients. She’d always had the option of dropping just enough of her blood into any injury if the traditional surgical approach wasn’t working. Having been in the field for the past few centuries Mara and Alex were both exceptional doctors, but this time they were flying without a safety net. The scrub nurse tied on Mara’s surgical mask and snapped on her gloves. With that, she bumped open the OR door with her hip and headed in to do battle with death alongside her closest friend.

  “Where are we?” Mara asked as she took her position across the operating table from Alex.

  He glanced up at her over his surgical mask, his confusion at the patient’s reaction to her blood still evident. “I’ve repaired the carotid. Working on the rest of the damage to the neck. Do you want to get started on the breaks? I’ve cauterized as many bleeders as I could, given the timeframe, but there’s a lot of damage. This guy shouldn’t be alive.”

  Mara nodded as she began to examine the patient’s extremities, searching out the worst damage. “I know.”

  They worked for hours on the patient, mostly in silence. They had done this so often that they moved like a well-oiled machine, only occasionally stopping to consult each other on what surgical technique would be best in a given scenario. They switched out periodically as though they were heading out for bathroom and drink breaks like the rest of the surgical staff.

  On his last trip, Alex stopped in front of each of the staff in the room and made slight adjustments to their memory of the events in the OR. As he finished with the last surgical nurse he turned back towards Mara, his eyes still glowing with the swirling gold colour that appeared with the use of their hypnotic abilities. As she gazed at him the gold bled out, his eyes returning to their natural hue. Moving as a unit, the entire surgical staff put down whatever they were holding and left the operating room. They’d soon find themselves talking and laughing over a water-cooler, having little memory of the surgery they’d just assisted on, and would chalk it up to fatigue after having worked for eight hours straight on one patient. Mara and Alex stood and stared at each other in silence for a moment, the only noises in the room were the beeping of the heart monitor and the hiss of the respirator. The stress of this surgery had truly taken its toll on both of them. They were excellent surgeons, but with their blood as a back-up plan, they’d never truly felt the weight of life and death pressing down on them as it had over the past several hours.

  “Well, that takes care of that.” Alex said, suddenly breaking the silence, as he stripped off his gloves, cracked his neck, and stretched his arms above his head.

  Mara blew out a breath and yanke
d off her surgical mask. “This guy must have the constitution of an ox when he’s not being sliced and diced. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

  Alex walked over and untied the ribbons on Mara’s gown, allowing her to ball it up and toss it in the biohazard bin. “Wanna get mine?” he asked.

  Mara spun him around and worked on the ties as she pondered the patient. “Why do you think our blood didn’t work on him? I saw you give it a go too…guessing you had about as much luck as I did?”

  Alex slid off his gown and turned to face her. “It didn’t do much.” He trailed off as Mara leaned over to look down at the patient’s ruined face.

  “We’re going to have to get Dr. Parker from plastics to take care of his face once he’s out of the woods.” She murmured as she reached down to trail a finger over his crooked nose. “I wonder what he looks like.”

  As she stared down at him Mara couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that she needed to find out who this man was. She’d always cared about the health and welfare of her patients, but beyond knowing their name and exchanging some basic post-op pleasantries during recovery, she’d never needed to know who they were beyond the information in their charts. She didn’t know where this need was coming from, but instead of fighting it, she slowly brought her wrist up to her mouth, unsheathed her fangs, and bit into her wrist.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Alex’s voice broke through from behind her.

  “I just need to find out who he is,” she said. The entire moment felt like a dream; her own voice sounded like it was coming from far away.

  Mara pulled her wrist away from her mouth, the blood ran freely for a moment, warm and dark against the ivory of her skin. The wounds closed up quickly as she knew they would. Reaching forward with her free hand she ran her fingers in the blood and began to spread it lightly over her patient’s mangled face. She held her breath and waited. It took longer than usual, but before her eyes, the patient’s skin soaked up the thin layer of blood, sucking it in through his pores.

  “It’s working.” She breathed. The black and purple bruising began to fade out slowly, as the cuts she and Alex had stitched knitted together and faded out, leaving only the neat lines of black stitches behind. Reaching down, Mara quickly snapped his nose back into place, wincing at the crunching noise. Alex came up the opposite side of the table and bit into his own wrist, drawing more blood to finish healing the patient’s face.

  As the swelling came down and the crushed bones of his cheeks and jaw mended, Mara’s eyes grew wide. This was a face she recognized — with the defined jaw line, the five o’clock shadow, and the sharp cheekbones. His hair was matted with blood, but she knew it would be light brown, and if he opened his eyes, they’d be a magnetic hazel. This patient was going to be a problem.

  “Alex,” she said, unable to tear her eyes away from the unconscious form on the table. “We need to get him out of the hospital.”

  “Why the hell would we do that?” Alex asked, baffled.

  “Because this is Bataryal, the fallen angel I helped, and when he wakes up he’s going to heal so fast we won’t be able to scrub enough memories to keep this quiet.”

  Chapter Four

  Keir

  The cool night wind whipped against his face as he stood staring at the glass doors of the hospital emergency bay. Keir clenched and unclenched his jaw in anger and frustration. Fuck. He balled his fists and his knuckles popped under the pressure. He’d been so close to killing Bataryal that if that forsaken human hadn’t gotten in his way, he’d have been able to finish the job. The coppery tang of blood had been in the air and the light had been fading from Bataryal’s eyes. Keir cracked his neck as he took a few steps closer to the hospital. As he passed the cheery little potted plants that lined the sidewalk, the flowers wilted and turned black, melting into a rotted heap. The evil that pulsed out of his body in waves was enough to make any living thing wary of getting too close.

  Keir felt his blood boil at the thought of having to start from scratch on this kill; that is, if you could call the black sludge that ran through his veins ‘blood.’ The balance between light and dark had been restored. There was no way he could walk into that hospital and take care of the job in full view of the humans within. He whipped out his phone to send a text message off to Nyx, his pretty little assistant. Satan’s sister was such a trip to watch as she worked. Looking like she’d just stepped off the runways of Paris, she could tear a man to shreds in less than five minutes without breaking a nail. No conscience, no guilt, no remorse. Keir’s lips twitched in a smile as he punched in his message. He’d need her services in order to draw the others out of hiding. They’d been holed up in The Advocate for days now, and the no-violence spell that came with its safe-haven status meant that Keir would be writhing in pain on the floor if he tried anything within its walls.

  A voice broke through his dark musings. “Hey, you! What are you doing standing there? This is an emergency department. Front door’s around the other side of the building.”

  Keir shifted his eyes towards the approaching security guard, a sinister smile playing across his face. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t realize I couldn’t stand here.”

  The rotund guard huffed and puffed as he finally came up to stand before Keir. His round face was florid and beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. “No problem, son. You’d better move on though. Ambulances come tearing in here pretty quick. Wouldn’t want to see you get hit.”

  “Thank you for your concern.”

  Keir remained rooted to the spot as the security guard looked at him awkwardly, as though unsure of how to press the issue of his departure.

  “You should move on now. I have to keep this entryway clear,” he said, his eyes darting up to meet Keir’s. He sucked in a strangled yelp as their eyes met. Keir smiled and reached out to touch the guard on the shoulder.

  “Don’t you worry about my eyes, now. They’re red; it’s a medical condition.”

  A shaking began in the guard’s body that reverberated up through Keir’s arm. “But they weren’t red before,” the guard whispered.

  Keir sighed. “No, I guess they weren’t, were they?” He took a step closer to the guard. “You humans. You’re all so…fragile.”

  The guard swallowed hard; Keir could see his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “Hu..hu..humans?”

  “Yes.” Keir hissed. “Humans.” Reaching forward, he grabbed the pudgy guard under the chin and, with one violent jerk, snapped his neck. Keir closed his eyes and tipped his head back as the thrill of the kill coursed through him. Opening his eyes, he released his hold on the guard’s chin, his body crumpling to the ground at Keir’s feet, his head thumping as it connected with the concrete. Keir stared down at the discarded corpse. Something was off. Suddenly, he felt as though someone were trying to light a spark inside his brain. Keir twitched and shook his head violently but the feeling only became more intense, like an insect was trying to burrow its way into his head. Doubling over, he clutched at both sides of his head, his face twisted in a mask of pain. Voices started to ring out in his mind, hammering at him from the inside — a man and a woman. They were relentless.

  “Why did you do this?” The man’s voice asked, despair lacing every word.

  “I love you. You must stop.” The woman’s voice pleaded.

  It went on and on as Keir fell to his knees on the pavement. “STOP IT! STOP IT!” He screamed as he rocked back and forth, the voices continued like whispers from beyond the grave. He was losing his mind; Keir was convinced of it. He felt warmth on his cheek. Cracking his eyes open, he saw droplets of blood on the drive beneath him. Fury raced through him as he realized he was crying tears of blood. “STOP!” He cried out one last time. Suddenly, everything became quiet and still. The pressure in his head vanished, taking the ghostly whispers with it. Keir slowly unclasped his ears and stumbled to his feet. What the fuck was that?

  Breathing hard, he stared back down at the body befor
e him, steeling his mind. He felt the familiar coldness sneak back through his body, lodging somewhere near his black heart. His breathing slowed; the frantic scrambling in his brain stopped. He stood once again cold and calculated. Raising his eyes back to the hospital where his elusive quarry lay, he cracked his neck and sneered. No great loss, he’d take care of this loose end another day. Keir held his hands out to his sides, palms up and closed his eyes to concentrate. He hated travelling this way, it felt like being pulled inside out, and when you arrived at the other end of your journey you felt like hammered shit, but it really was the fastest way of getting from point A to point B. In his mind’s eye he focused on the place he wanted to go, picturing it in as much detail as he could. He felt a vibration begin in his body, as otherworldly energy coalesced, and uttered one phrase.

  “In absentia luci, tenebrae vincunt.” In the absence of light, darkness prevails.

  As the last word fell from his lips he was enveloped in a black fog that seeped out from his pores. The cloying mist reeked of death and decay as it settled around his body, making him disappear into a shadow state, his corporeal form turning into another element of the fog. The mist suddenly collapsed in upon itself like a dying star, leaving the pavement as empty as the soul of the man who’d been standing there.

  Chapter Five

  Yetarel

  “Where the hell is he?” Yetarel grumbled as he looked down and thumbed the buttons on his phone to make sure it was on and working. He’d been compulsively eyeing his phone every fifteen minutes for the past several hours, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. Samael had been doing the same thing, furtively glancing down at his lap every half hour or so, presumably checking the phone usually rested on his knee. Baliel and Azazel had been less obvious, opting to leave their phones sitting on the table beside their beers, glancing down each time they grabbed their mugs. Everyone was on edge. It was safe to say they were quietly shitting a collective brick. Newbie vampire Sergei was clearly having a hard time keeping it together. He fidgeted and bounced his knee as he nursed a pitcher of AB positive, his movements so fast and erratic they kept disappearing into a blur. The band kicked off another lively folk tune and everyone at the table sighed loudly.