Hank jerked the wheel hard, sending the Land Cruiser up on two wheels. I was thrown forward, my seat belt catching hard across my chest, my head colliding with the window. My vision clouded, and loud noises seemed to descend on me from every direction. Crunching, shattering, piercing noises that exploded in my ears.
I thought I heard Hank growl something—Damn fallen angels! — but then I was flying.
No, not flying. Tumbling. Over and over.
I didn’t remember landing, but when my mind registered again, I was on my back. Not inside the Land Cruiser, somewhere else. Dirt. Leaves. Sharp rocks biting into my skin.
Cold, pain, hard. Cold, pain, hard. My brain couldn’t move beyond three chanted words. I saw them slide across my vision.
“Nora!” Hank yelled, his voice sounding far away.
I was sure my eyes were open, but I couldn’t make out any one object. Bright light I couldn’t see past stretched from one edge of my vision to the other. I attempted to rise. The directions I gave my muscles were clear, but there was a breach somewhere along the lines; I couldn’t move.
Hands grasped my ankles first, then my wrists. My body glided through the leaves and dirt, making a strange rustling noise. I licked my lips, trying to call out to Hank, but when my mouth opened, the wrong words came out.
Cold, pain, hard. Cold, pain, hard.
I wanted to rattle myself out of the stupor. No! I screamed inside my head. No, no, no!
Patch! Help! Patch, Patch, Patch!
“Cold, pain, hard,” I muttered incoherently.
Before I could correct myself, it was too late. My mouth was stitched closed. As were my eyes.
Solid hands grasped my shoulders, shaking me.
“Can you hear me, Nora? Don’t try to get up. Stay on your back. I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
My eyes popped open. Trees swayed overhead. Sunlight spilled through their branches, casting strange shadows that altered the world from light to dark, and back again.
Hank Millar bent over me. His face was cut up, blood trickling down, blood smearing his cheeks, blood matting his hair. His lips were moving, but it hurt too much to make sense of his words.
I turned away. Cold, pain, hard.
I woke in a hospital, my bed behind a white cotton curtain. The room was peacefully, yet strangely, quiet. My toes and fingers tingled, and my head might as well have been strewn with cobwebs. Drugs, I mildly noted.
A different face leaned over mine. Dr. Howlett smiled, but not enough to show teeth.
“You took a frightful hit, young lady. Plenty of bruising, but nothing’s broken. I had the nurses give you ibuprofen, and I’ll give you a prescription before you go. You’re going to feel tender for a few days. Considering the circumstances, I’d say you should count your blessings.”
“Hank?” I managed to ask, my lips paper-dry.
Dr. Howlett shook his head, rumbling a short laugh. “You’re going to hate hearing this, but he pulled through without a scratch. Hardly seems fair.”
Through the haze, I tried to reason. Something wasn’t right. And then my memory opened. “No. He was cut up. He was bleeding badly.”
“You’re mistaken. Hank came in wearing more of your blood than his own. You got the worst of it by far.”
“But I saw him—”
“Hank Millar is in pristine shape,” he cut me off. “And once your stitches fall out, you will be too. As soon as the nurses finish checking these bandages, you’ll be good to go.”
Underneath it all, I knew I should panic. There were too many questions, too few answers. Cold, pain, hard. Cold, pain, hard.
The glow of taillights. The crash. The ravine.
“This will help,” Dr. Howlett said, surprising me with a prick to my arm. Fluid streamed from the needle into my blood with nothing more than a faint sting.
“But I just regained consciousness,” I murmured, a pleasant chemical exhaustion washing through me. “How can I be okay already? I don’t feel right.”
“You’ll make a faster recovery at home.” He chuckled. “Here you’ll have nurses poking and prodding you all night.”
All night? “It’s already evening? But it was just noon. Before Hank — health class — I never had lunch.”
“It’s been a rough day,” Dr. Howlett said, nodding complacently. Under the layers of drugs, I wanted to scream. Instead a mere sigh escaped.
I laid a hand on my stomach. “I feel funny.”
“MRI confirmed you don’t have internal bleeding. Take it easy for the next few days, and you’ll be up and running in no time.” He gave my shoulder a playful squeeze. “But I can’t promise you’ll feel like climbing into another car any time soon.”
Somewhere in the middle of the fog, I remembered my mom. “Is Hank with my mom? Is she okay? Can I see her? Does she know about the car crash?”
“Your mom is making a very speedy recovery,” he assured me. “She’s still in ICU and can’t have visitors, but she should be moved to her own room by morning. You can come back and see her then.” He leaned down, as though to make me his coconspirator. “Between us, if it weren’t for the red tape, I’d let you sneak in to see her now. She had a pretty nasty concussion, and while there was memory loss at first, considering her condition when Hank first brought her in, I think it’s safe to say she’ll pull a one-eighty.” He patted my cheek. “Luck must run in the family.”
“Luck,” I repeated lethargically.
But I had an alarming feeling stirring inside me, indicating that luck had nothing to do with either of our recoveries.
And maybe not our accidents, either.
CHAPTER 26
AFTER DR. HOWLETT GAVE ME CLEARANCE TO leave, I rode the elevator down to the main lobby. On the way, I dialed Vee. I didn’t have a ride home, and I hoped it was still early enough that her mom would let her rescue a stranded friend.
The elevator eased to a stop, and the doors glided open. My phone clattered at my feet.
“Hello, Nora,” Hank said, standing directly in front of me.
Three counts passed before I summoned my voice. “Going up?” I asked, hoping I sounded calm.
“Actually, I was looking for you.”
“I’m in a hurry,” I said apologetically, scooping up my phone.
“I thought you might need a ride home. I had one of my boys bring over a rental from the dealership.”
“Thanks, but I’ve already called a friend.”
His smile was plastic. “At least let me see you to the doors.”
“I need to stop by the restrooms first,” I hedged. “Please don’t wait. Really, I’m fine. I’m sure Marcie is anxious to see you.”
“Your mother would want me to see you home safely.”
His eyes were bloodshot, his whole expression weary, but I didn’t for one moment think it was from his role as the grieving boyfriend. Dr. Howlett could insist all he wanted that Hank had arrived at the hospital unscathed, but I knew the truth. He’d come out of the crash worse than I had. Worse, even, than the crash warranted.
His face had resembled pulverized meat, and while his Nephilim blood had cured him almost instantly, I’d known from the moment he’d shaken me out of unconsciousness, and I’d taken that first blurry look at him, that something had happened to him after I blacked out. He could deny it up and down, but his condition had resembled being mauled by tigers.
He was haggard and exhausted because he’d battled a group of fallen angels today. At least, that was my current working theory. As I traced my way back through the events, it was the only explanation that made sense. Damn fallen angels! Weren’t those the words Hank had sworn viciously a fraction of a moment before the crash? He clearly hadn’t planned on running into them … so what had he planned to happen?