Hemorrhage Read online

  Reaching the desk, I leaned down toward the unit clerk. “Call security. A guy over there has a gun.”

  Her eyes widened and she quickly grabbed the phone and started dialing.

  I turned my attention back to Dr. Darnold and the two fallen men. They still hadn’t come around. There was quite a bit of activity and within a moment, security came running in. When they did, I finally exhaled and could relax.

  There were times when I didn’t like the fact that I had magic, but I couldn’t deny that it had uses. And I had saved a kid’s life—maybe twice—because of it.

  But now I had to figure out what sort of magic this other guy had, where he’d learned it, and why was he after the guy we’d just saved?

  2

  It had been difficult to get away from Dr. Darnold. Working with a trauma surgeon like him could be both beneficial for my ongoing education as well as stressful. Part of that came from the fact that I had no interest in ever becoming a trauma surgeon, but my interest in trauma—at least, my interest in rushing in to prevent the sense of death I often detected—made it so that I needed to spend some time with people like him.

  The ER was busy at this time of day. It was nearly six o’clock, at what would normally be the end of my shift, but since I was on a trauma rotation, there wasn’t so much an end of a shift as there was an end of rounding. Now I was on call, dealing with my pager and the stress that came from that. Call was one reason I enjoyed the ER so much more than I enjoyed other medical specialties. I had no interest in carrying a pager the rest of my life, dealing with the possibility of restless sleep, the likelihood of sleep interruptions, and the dread about when the next call would come in that I felt each time I drifted off to sleep.

  “Dr. Michaels,” Val said. She flashed a smile as she hurried along the hallway toward me. “I didn’t think you were scheduled to work in the ER this month.”

  “Not this month. I’m on trauma.”

  “That’s right. You were here when the gunshot victim came in. I hear Dr. Darnold managed to save another one.”

  I only nodded. It was better that he got the credit and the attention rather than me. Besides, no one would believe that I had any part in helping to heal him. “The injury wasn’t as bad as we thought,” I said.

  “Odd. I was there when the kid came in. He was barely hanging on then.”

  “Yeah. Bleeding, but it stopped. Hey—what happened to the two guys they brought down from the surgery waiting room?”

  “The police have been with them. They think one of them was the shooter. What kind of stupid gangbanger comes in with the same gun that shot him the first time?”

  The same kind who thought to use magic, but it was more than that. There had to be some reason the guy they’d shot had been targeted by someone with magic. I doubted he would have risked exposing himself otherwise.

  But maybe there wasn’t. It was possible he didn’t really know what he was doing. It wasn’t too hard to believe that he had some ability that came about naturally. Not all with magic were drawn into the magical world. Most had to be found, trained, and then they could be a part of that world. Those who weren’t were regarded as hedge mages. Which was pretty much what I could be called, except for the fact that my grandparents had participated in my training as much as was possible.

  That guy couldn’t have been a hedge mage. He had used his ability to protect himself, which suggested he was more. Even a weak ability suggested he had training.

  “Where are they?”

  “Down in Room Seventeen. I need to get back to the patient in Room Ten before Roberts get too upset. See you, Michaels.”

  I nodded and headed down the hallway, making my way toward Room Seventeen. It was one of the larger rooms, and as I approached, the police presence caught my attention. There was one standing outside the room in his uniform, and there was enough activity inside that I didn’t dare try to push my way in.

  “Kate?”

  I turned to find Jen standing behind me, watching me with an amused expression. She had been one of my best friends ever since we met in medical school and our friendship had only deepened in the time that we’d been in residency training together.

  “I thought you were on trauma this month? Did you come to check out the boys in blue?” She ogled the officer over my shoulder. He was fit and square jawed. I’d say he was her type, but all men seemed to be her type.

  “I am. On trauma that is.”

  “I suppose you have something to do with those two?”

  “Not by choice.” I lowered my voice as I told her about what had happened with the gunshot victim and then how I had observed the two men in the waiting room listening far more intensely than what I would’ve expected.

  “Just think what would’ve happened had you not been there,” she whispered.

  “Nothing would’ve happened had I not been there. It was my fault that he survived.”

  “Fault? Now we’re assigning blame for helping our patients?”

  “It’s not like that, but he only lived because I used my other ability,” I said, keeping my voice low. A pair of nurses hurried past us, and I hoped that neither had heard what I said. I didn’t think I had been speaking loud enough for them to have overheard, but nurses—especially in the ER—could be nosy. It was a helpful trait when it came to patients, but not so helpful when it came to keeping them out of my affairs. “Had I not done it, they wouldn’t have had any reason to go back there.”

  “And we might not have known who the shooter was,” Jen said.

  I stared at the door. “There is that.”

  “Why did you come down here?”

  “Because the smaller of the two did something that troubled me.”

  “More than carrying a gun into the hospital with the intention of shooting up their victim if he didn’t die?”

  “Maybe not quite that troubling. He has his own particular talent.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Is he with one of your councils? Or one of the other kinds?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “And you came down here to question him?”

  “I was hoping to get some information, but I’m not sure I can get close enough to question him with the police here.”

  “I could try to create a distraction for you,” Jen said, grinning.

  “I don’t like to think about what sort of distraction you might attempt.”

  “Hey!”

  “Besides, if he ends up in jail for this, there isn’t really a need.”

  “What if he manages to escape?”

  Would he be stupid enough to try to use magic to escape? There were two armed officers stationed around him, but maybe that didn’t matter with magic. I’d not seen whether magical barriers were effective against bullets, but they certainly were effective against other mages.

  I needed to keep an eye on him, though doing so might not be wise. I didn’t want to hang out here, and didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than necessary, but I also didn’t want some rogue mage to harm anyone else, especially if he had already proven a willingness to kill.

  “We have to make certain he can’t,” I said.

  “How much longer is your trauma rotation?”

  “Another week.”

  “And then back to the holy land?”

  I laughed. “At least in the ER I don’t have to carry this damned thing,” I said, holding up the pager. On these rotations with call, I came to hate the sound of the beep, but I needed it to beep rather than vibrate, otherwise I’d sleep right through the damned thing. There were times I wondered if maybe I should anyway.

  “I’ve got to get back to work. What are you doing later?”

  “Call,” I said.

  She laughed. “Fine. What about tomorrow?”

  “Probably sleeping. Knowing Darnold, he’ll make sure that I work my ass off throughout the night. And he’s not a fan of the work hour restrictions
.”

  “None of the old-school attendings are fans of them. They think if you’re not taking call, you’re missing out on cases.”

  “Maybe if I enjoyed trauma, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “But you do enjoy trauma,” Jen said.

  “ER traumas, not trauma surgery.” Before Jen took off, I had a thought. “If you hear anything about him, let me know?”

  “Do you want me to page you?” she asked with a smile.

  “Sure, if you want me to page you.”

  “I don’t have any rotation like that for a while. Most of mine are done. Now I get to spend my days here dealing with Roberts pretending he’s one of my attendings.”

  “He is a fellow now, so technically…”

  “Technically he’s still an asshole,” Jen said.

  “We knew a fellowship wouldn’t change that.”

  When Jen disappeared, I watched the room for a little while, debating whether I would attempt to figure out a way inside. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. If I went in, and if the man realized I was the one who had held the spell that confined him—and knocked him out—what might he do?

  Maybe nothing. He was going to end up in jail. He’d been caught by the police, a gun on him, and it would be pretty unlikely to be able to escape.

  Before thinking any better of it, I headed over to the police officer standing guard at the door. I considered how to approach him. Jen would have flirted with him—and it probably would have worked. I wouldn’t be nearly as successful.

  The straightforward approach. That was what I needed.

  “Did you learn anything?” I asked the officer.

  “And who are you?”

  “I’m one of the doctors taking care of the guy he shot.” That might not matter, but it was worth a try. “I was just trying to figure out if we had to be worried about our patient.”

  “It’s hard to say. With gang members like this, they can sometimes take the smallest of slights seriously. It depends on what they think your guy did.”

  “Do you know what gang they’re in?”

  “Not yet. It’s not one I’m familiar with,” he said.

  Had he been an older officer, a comment like that might have been more meaningful, but with as young as he was and considering how unlikely that he had all that much experience on the force, I doubted he knew all of the various gangs operating within the city.

  Not that I could claim anything more than that.

  I saw gang violence in the ER often enough that I got accustomed to it, but I couldn’t pick out one gang from another. Some had issues with other gangs, and it was often difficult to know who was angry at whom.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I started to turn away when the officer spoke. “You’re not going into question him?”

  Could I? Police didn’t often allow people not working with the patient in to interview them, but maybe his inexperience could be to my advantage.

  Going in would expose me to the patient, but it wasn’t that I feared someone like him—at least not too much. I was strong enough with magic that I didn’t need to fear him. I didn’t know whether that magic would extend to protecting me from bullets if he decided to come gunning for me, but I’d learned my connection to magic would heal me the same way a mage could heal themselves with their magic.

  “If he’s awake…?”

  “He’s awake. Handcuffed and fighting. I get the sense the doctors in the ER aren’t quite sure what to do with him.”

  That I was certain of. They would probably clear him and decide he didn’t need any medical attention, but what would happen after that?

  I headed into the room and saw the officer sitting by the bed. He glanced up when I came in. Thankfully I had my long white coat and stethoscope strung around my neck, both markers of my role in the hospital. “I need to talk to him.”

  The officer shrugged. “Be my guest. He hasn’t been the most forthcoming.”

  As I made my way over to the ER cot, I briefly surveyed him. His wrists were handcuffed to the side rails, holding him in place. With the right kind of spell, he’d be able to break free, but doing so would potentially expose the fact that he was using magic. I didn’t know whether he cared, but most magic users were hesitant to reveal their abilities.

  He was about my age, but if he had a connection to magic, that appearance might not matter. It was possible that he was ten or more years older than me and simply looked youthful. Deep brown eyes looked up at me, anger burning behind them.

  He jerked on his handcuffs, rattling them. I resisted the urge to take a step back.

  His right temple had swollen, leading to some bruising around it. It had already grown purple and angry, the effect of my magical attack. Had he significant magic, he would have healed that already, so either he didn’t have control over it or he wasn’t all that powerful.

  “Why did you shoot him?”

  He jerked on the handcuffs again before finally looking over at me. “What is this? Are you supposed to be the good cop?”

  The police officer sitting next to him chuckled. “Better her than me.”

  I glanced over to see him leering at me and decided to ignore the comment. “I just want to know why.”

  “What does it matter? You’re not here to investigate anything. Just make sure I’m cleared and then they can take me off to jail.”

  “From what I can tell, you don’t have too many injuries. A few bruises, nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

  He grunted. “Right. Nothing that won’t heal on its own.”

  “What did he do?”

  “It don’t matter. Not to you,” he said with a sneer.

  “He’s going to pull through. I suppose you heard that, which is why you thought to change that?”

  He jerked on his handcuffs. As he did, a soft surge of cold worked along my spine. It signified magic, and the faintness of it told me that he had some connection to it, but it wasn’t powerful.

  He stared up at the ceiling, unlikely to say anything more.

  Rather than continuing to press him, I looked over his skin. Oftentimes with gang members, their tattoos were some sort of indicator of the type of gang they were in. A few of his were strange markings, but most were biblical verse or crosses, though one was of a tiger, almost as if it were leaping from his arm.

  Maybe I could find a connection with their tattoos, but even if I did, I wouldn’t have any way of knowing what the connection meant.

  Pulling out my phone, I started to snap a few pictures of his skin. I focused on the tattoos, wanting to see if there was any connection to the other patient. After I had snapped two photos, the officer stood.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Documenting for his chart.”

  “You can put pictures in his chart?”

  I tapped on my phone and then pointed to the computer. “Everything is electronic now. This way, we can keep track of his bruising.”

  If nothing else, it was a believable explanation as to why I was taking pictures. And it wasn’t completely untrue. Our electronic medical record had an app that allowed the importation of photos into it, but I wasn’t using the app.

  “I hope you end up in jail for a long time,” I said.

  The officer chuckled. “If he pulled the trigger, he’ll be going away for a while.”

  The man yanked on his handcuffs again, rattling them.

  Magic surged from him.

  It was focused on the handcuffs, and though they didn’t snap, I wondered how much force they’d be able to withstand. It was possible he could pull enough magic to break free.

  When I stepped back out to the hallway, I caught Joan, a heavyset redheaded nurse. “The patient in Room Seventeen is getting a little agitated. Does he have anything ordered for sedation?”

  She nodded. “He came in pretty agitated. We’ve got Haldol and Ativan available if needed.”

  “You might want to dose him.”

  I hurried off, heading bac
k up to the surgical floor. Most of the attendings were gone for the night, leaving residents on call along with the nurses. I made my way to the room where the gunshot victim had been and poked my head inside the door. Other than the patient, the room was empty. I didn’t have to deal with nurses trying to figure out why I was here.

  The man was still asleep. He’d probably be out for the better part of the day, maybe longer. Peeling back the blankets covering him, I glanced at his tattoos. What had seemed homemade before might still be the case, but there were patterns to them. Many had the same religious overtones that the other man down in the ER had, but there were a few that were different, symbols I didn’t recognize.

  That wasn’t completely unusual. There were plenty of times when people had tattoos that were meaningless to me, but the similarity between this man’s tattoos and the ones down in the ER suggested there was some meaning behind it.

  Stranger still, there was something almost familiar about them, as if I had seen something like them before, but this didn’t strike me like the kind of magic my grandparents used. Why would it seem familiar to me?

  Glancing back at the entrance to the room, I made certain the curtain was pulled closed and quickly snapped a few photos of his tattoos.

  “Well, Mr. Jimenez, I have your… Oh. I didn’t realize you were here,” the nurse said as she entered. She was a plain-faced nurse with brown hair and a sharp jaw. I didn’t know the nurses on this unit all that well, and she studied me while I pulled the sheets back up, hurriedly stuffing the phone into my pocket.

  “What do you have for him?” I asked.

  “The next dose of his antibiotic.”

  “I was just checking the incision site,” I said.

  “Don’t let me stop you if you need to do an exam.”

  I pulled back his dressing. The wound was dry and there was minimal bleeding, and surprisingly, the incision appeared to be healing far better than I would’ve expected.

  “What is it?” the nurse asked.

  I quickly replaced the dressing. She didn’t need to see an incision that had healed more than it should have in the last few hours. “Nothing. The incision looks good. It’s clean and there are no signs of infection. I’ll be back in the morning to change the dressing.”