“Holy shit!”
“He’s here.”
She stared at him, her mouth hanging open, her eyes like saucers. I’d seen Kona shocked speechless more often in the last few days than in the eight years that came before.
“He is so cool looking!” she said, whispering the words.
“Thank you.” His voice was like a cascade.
She smiled. “Sounds cool, too.”
“I have healed the bones in Ohanko’s hand.”
“Ohanko?” she repeated to me.
“Long story. I’ll explain later.”
“Since you have called for medical assistance, he insisted that I not heal his wrist. I have repaired the damage to his blood vessel despite his wishes. We do not want him to die.”
She shook her head. “No, we don’t.”
“You are as dear to him as any person in his life. And I am grateful to you for all that you have done for him over the years. You are a fine friend.”
Kona blinked. Another smile crept over her face. “He’s pretty dear to me, too.”
Namid replied with a nod, apparently satisfied with their exchange. To me, he said, “Tell me what happened with the women.”
I began to tell them both the entire story, from my arrival at Regina Witcombe’s home to Kona’s appearance at my door. The ambulance arrived before I had gotten far, and the EMTs bustled in, their radios crackling. They knelt on either side of me, and one of them examined Kona’s bandage, complimenting her on how good it looked. They couldn’t see Namid, which Kona found amusing.
Once they examined the wound more closely, though, they grew quiet. Eventually, one of them asked if all the blood on my clothes and the floor had come from my wrist. I hesitated. I knew they were asking because, as far as they could tell, the cut shouldn’t have bled so much. Thanks to Namid, my artery was undamaged. But given that I was about to be implicated in Heather’s killing, an unexplained excess of blood might ensure a murder conviction.
I chanced a peek at the runemyste, who seemed to understand. He gave me a wink-something else he had never done before-and suddenly blood was gushing from my wrist once more.
“Geez!” the other EMT said. “It must have started to clot or something, and then . . . Geez!”
The other guy grabbed for the gauze and bandage. “Put this back on, quick!”
They stanched the bleeding, rewrapped my arm and got me on a stretcher. I would have preferred to avoid a hospital stay, but that was no longer a possibility. The EMTs told Kona that they would be taking me to Chandler Regional Medical Center.
“I’ll see you there,” Kona said as they wheeled me outside and to the ambulance.
“Lock up my house, all right?”
She frowned. “I was going to have a garage sale.”
I laughed and waved as they closed the ambulance doors.
The next several hours were a blur. An arterial laceration required surgery and, usually, general anesthesia. I had to argue with the ER surgeon and anesthesiologist for several minutes before I convinced them to numb my arm and give me a mild general to blunt the pain.
Still, by the time I came round again I sensed that hours had passed. I wouldn’t be getting out to my father’s place tonight, nor would I see Billie. Kona was sitting beside my bed in recovery, and, to my surprise, Namid was there as well, standing as still as ice at her shoulder.
“Hey stranger,” Kona said, sitting forward. “How are you feeling?”
“Hung over.”
Namid said nothing.
“He been here the whole time?”
She glanced up at him, scowling. It seemed the novelty of having him around had worn off. “Yep. He won’t leave. And he doesn’t say much. To be perfectly honest, it’s been a little awkward.”
“Welcome to my world. What time is it?”
“A little after eleven.”
I closed my eyes to stop the room from spinning. “Damn.”
A nurse come in, checked my vitals, asked how I was feeling, and told Kona in no uncertain terms that she would have to leave in another five minutes.
Once the nurse was gone, I said, “Namid, I need you to check on my father. I had intended to go out there again tonight, but clearly that’s not happening.”
“You fear for him.”
“Very much.”
“I will go to him now.”
An instant later, he winked out of sight.
Kona exhaled and shook her head. “He is a piece of work, Justis. How do you put up with him? I mean, he’s amazing to look at, and he obviously cares about you a lot. But . . . Wow.”
“I know. Tell me about Heather.”
Her expression grew more guarded. “Are you sure you’re up to this right now?”
“No. But I need to hear it anyway.”
She pulled out her notepad. “Heather Royce, twenty-four. Graduated two years ago from ASU with a degree in Finance. Her parents live in Yuma. As far as we can tell, she’s been working for Regina Witcombe for about a year.”
“Has anyone from the department talked to Witcombe yet?”
“No. Kevin and I will tomorrow.”
“She knows your name, Kona, and she knows that we were partners. You should send Kevin with someone else.”
She frowned. “What do you think she’s going to do to me?”
“I don’t know. I-”
The nurse threw the curtain open and glared at Kona. “You have to go now.”
“She’ll go in a minute.”
“Mister Fearsson, you’ve been-”
“She’ll go in a minute!”
The woman looked from one of us to the other and then withdrew, closing the curtain once more and muttering to herself.
“It’s dangerous for you to go there,” I said, once I was sure the nurse was out of earshot. I kept my voice to a whisper.
“What if I can get her to come to 620?”
“That might be all right. She’d have a lawyer with her, so she probably wouldn’t try anything. And in that case it’s possible that your involvement with the investigation will make her think twice about some of the lies she’s going to have to tell.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. The girl died at Witcombe’s house, right?”
“Yes, but all the blood vanished when Witcombe and Patty cast their spell.”
“Right. Tell me more about Patty.”
I gave her all the background: the ties between the Hesslans and the Fearssons, everything I’d learned about Patty from my online search, and the details of our conversation at the realty office. At one point, the nurse came in again, glowered at us both, and left without saying a word.
As I finished, Namid returned.
“He seems well, Ohanko. He sits outside, asleep in his chair. But I do not believe he is in pain, and I sensed no necromancers or weremancers near him.”
“All right. Thank you.”
He answered with a solemn nod. Then he folded his arms over his broad chest and went still. Apparently, he had no intention of leaving.
After a brief silence, Kona said, “So this Hesslan-Fine woman killed the girl and used her blood for a spell. And Witcombe let it happen. Is that right?”
“Yes. Witcombe called the girl out onto the patio, but I don’t think she knew that Patty intended to kill her. She was pretty upset when it happened.”
“All right, that could help.” She closed her notepad. “I have more questions for you, but I think your nurse’s head is about to explode. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Does Hibbard know about all of this?” I asked before she could leave.
Kona cringed, nodded. “Kind of hard to keep it from him. To be honest, though, he doesn’t seem as giddy as you might think. As much as he’d like to throw you in jail for the rest of your life, I don’t think he believes you’d kill a girl like that.”
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
“I suppose. Get some sleep.”
She let herself out through the curtain, and a moment later my nurse came back to check all my numbers again. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “It’s late, but I can get you something.”
I wasn’t, but I also knew that I hadn’t eaten in hours, and I had lost a lot of blood. “Yes, thank you. And I’m sorry about before. It’s been quite a day, and I needed to tell Detective Shaw as much about it as I could.”