The voices eventually died down, but I knew Barbie was still here. I had a good guess why she and Saul were suddenly being so quiet, and soon, the occasional barely suppressed gasp from the bedroom next door confirmed my guess. At least they were considerate enough not to make a racket.
I think I drifted off for a while, though the pain still reverberated through my head while I was sleeping. The next time I was sure I was conscious, I heard Barbie’s voice tentatively calling my name.
“Morgan? Are you awake?”
Maybe I should have just pretended to be asleep, but I decided I’d prefer to have something else, anything else to think about than how lousy I felt.
“More or less,” I answered, though I’m sure it was hard to understand from beneath the pillow I still held to my face.
I heard her cross the room, then felt the side of my bed dip as she sat.
“I won’t bother asking you how you feel,” she said, “but is there anything I can get you?”
“A gun so I can put myself out of my misery?”
She laughed weakly. “I really should insist you go to the hospital.”
I pulled the pillow off my face and opened my eyes a crack. The light didn’t really make my head hurt any worse—it just seemed like it should, so I was cautious with it.
“Not a chance in hell.”
One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “I didn’t think so. But it was worth trying.”
Although I was pretty sure she and Saul had been doing the horizontal bop next door, she looked as perfectly put together as always. She was disgustingly pretty, and I reminded myself I didn’t like girly-girl cheerleader types.
“Is there something you want?” I asked in my surliest tone of voice.
She was still smiling that half-smile. “Just hoping I could divine the real truth by looking at you.”
I groaned. You’d think after we’d confirmed all her suspicions about me and my supposed possession by Jordan Maguire’s demon that she’d be satisfied and stop asking questions. Well, no, you wouldn’t really think that, not unless you’re an idiot.
“Don’t do this to me,” I pleaded, too sick to pretend. “Not now when I’m practically defenseless.”
She shook her head. “I doubt you’ve been defenseless a day in your life. I’m just telling you that all the pieces of your story don’t add up. Remember, we’d already determined that you weren’t stupid enough to shoot Hillerman when you were the prime suspect.”
“I’m not. The demon was.”
She snorted. “Right. I just want you to know that I’ll help you if you let me. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s a lot weirder than the pat little explanation I came up with last night.”
Geez, had that only been last night? Amazing how time doesn’t fly when you’re not having fun.
“But I won’t bug you with it now,” she said. “I just wanted to say to you what I said to the demon: If you ever want to level with me, just give me a call.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, then pulled the pillow back over my face in a subtle bid to end the conversation.
Barbie sighed quietly before she left, but she refrained from asking any more questions.
For the next three days, I basically sat on the sidelines of my life. I rarely left my bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom. By the end of the first day, the nausea had eased enough that I could drink small quantities of water without tossing it back up, but clear fluids were the only things I could even get past my lips. My head pounded mercilessly, and I was even grouchier than usual. In retrospect, I feel kind of sorry for Saul, who tried his best to be helpful but probably wished he hadn’t.
Dominic stopped by to see me once, letting me know he’d brought some homemade chicken soup for when I was up to eating. It was great incentive to get better soon. Barbie stopped by at least twice, but mostly to see Saul, not me. Adam came to check on me a couple of times, though his visits were brief. Raphael, perhaps being a smart-ass, or perhaps actually meaning to be nice, sent me flowers. There was no word from Brian, of course, though I had hoped he still cared about me enough to send flowers, or at least a card. Andy didn’t visit either, which hurt almost as much.
By the end of day three, I was beginning to feel a tiny bit better—meaning I no longer daydreamed about blowing my brains out. That was when Andy finally paid me a visit—with Raphael practically nipping at his heels.
I didn’t know what to make of Andy and his former demon showing up together, and I was even more confused when Raphael shoved Andy into the room and then stood blocking the doorway.
I propped myself into a sitting position as Andy approached, his head down, his hands jammed into his pockets. Because of the headache, I was still keeping the room pretty dark, so at first I didn’t see the bruises. When I did, I gasped.
“What happened?” I asked. One of his eyes was blackened, and bruises bloomed all around his throat, like someone had choked him.
He opened his mouth a couple of times, but rejected whatever he’d been thinking of saying. Even in the darkness, I could see Raphael rolling his eyes.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Andrew!” he barked. “Grow a fucking backbone.”
Something sparked in Andy’s eyes, a glimmer of anger that made him look more alive than he had in a while. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and clenched them into fists. I couldn’t help noticing the knuckles of his right hand were bruised.
“You’ve been in a fight?” I prompted when he still didn’t say anything.
“Not exactly,” he answered, and I could tell he was struggling to find words.
“How about if I get the story started for you,” Raphael said, speaking slowly so he could get the maximum level of condescension into his voice. “I stopped by your apartment to encourage you to get off your ass and visit your sister …”
I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like Andy was grinding his teeth. By now, I was, too. I was on the verge of telling them both to get the hell out when Andy finally started talking.
“I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier. I just thought being around me would do you more harm than good.”
“Bullshit,” Raphael interrupted. “You were just too busy moping to make the effort.”
Andy whirled on him. “Did you bring me here so I could talk, or so you could? Because if you’re doing the talking, I don’t need to be here.”
“Oh, by all means, talk away.” Raphael made an expansive hand gesture.
Andy turned back to me, though his eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “I’m sorry for … the way I’ve been lately. Raphael tells me I’ve been feeling sorry for myself and need to pull myself up by the bootstraps. I promise I’ll try.”
My throat tightened, and I reached out to give Andy’s hand a squeeze. I was still pretty much mystified by what was going on, but that was the most words I’d heard him string together since Raphael had moved out of him, and that had to be a good sign.
He squeezed my hand back and forced something that vaguely resembled a smile. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but we’d never been real sentimental with each other, and I thought it would come out sounding artificial.
“I’ll leave you to get some rest now,” he continued. “But I promise I’ll come back, and not just for council meetings.”
The lump in my throat ached too much for me to talk, so I just nodded and gave him my most encouraging smile. By the time I thought I could speak without bawling, Andy had pushed his way past Raphael and was probably halfway to the front door. Raphael held up one finger in a gesture I took to mean “I’ll be right back,” and hurried after Andy. I realized I still had no clue what had happened.