Page 113 of Devil May Lie

“There better be a damn good reason I’m surrounded by Satellite right now,” a sleepy, rough voice broke into their conversation then. Madden groaned and blinked open his eyes, suspicion marring his expression when they all rushed toward his bedside. He searched their faces, his look not lingering on Berga any longer than it did on the others.

Which was the first sign something was wrong.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Where are my people?”

“Rebecca just left,” Baikal said. “Kelevra and the others are dealing with the person who attacked you.”

“I was attacked?” He glanced down at the IV in his arm and the rest of the wires he was hooked to. “Is it bad?”

“How do you feel?” Bay asked.

“I can’t feel anything at the moment.”

He nodded. “You were badly burned. The doctor put you on intense pain medication, so that’s not alarming. A rehydration pack is attached to your back, so if it starts to feel sticky, leave it be. There are also stitches in your side and shoulder, so try not to make any sudden or intense movements.”

“Thanks, but,” Madden’s frown deepened, “why are you here, exactly? Did it happen at the tracks?”

Everyone stared at him in silence for a minute that felt like it stretched for an eternity.

“Do you…” Berga cleared his throat, almost unable to say it for how ridiculous it was, “Do you not remember?”

“I don’t recall being attacked,” he replied. “No.”

“That’s not—” He licked his lips and tried again, pointing at himself. “Do you not remember me?”

“What are you talking about? You’re the Butcher. Of course I remember you.” He glanced at the others. “Did the doctor ask you to do this? Do we have to go around in a circle and say everyone’s name to prove I’m okay?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, I’m afraid.” Bay adjusted his glasses and sheepishly glanced between him and Berga. “What’s the last thing you remember, exactly?”

He pursed his lips and considered the question. “I was at the Docks…Great and Muse were helping me with an unruly gambler who didn’t want to pay up. Are they all right? Did they get caught in the attack?”

“No, they’re fine.”

“You’re joking,” Berga accused at the same time that Bay tried to reassure Madden his fellow racers were unharmed. “Or you’re lying.”

Madden quirked a dark brow at him. “Why would I do either of those things?” He motioned to Baikal. “What’s up with your Butcher? He keeps looking at me strangely.” His eyes narrowed. “You weren’t the one who attacked me, were you?”

“You think I’d put a bomb in your car?”

“Is that what happened?” He truly didn’t seem to remember. “Admittedly, that doesn’t seem like it’d be your style, but what do I know.”

“What do you mean?” Flix shifted awkwardly on his feet.

They were all trying so hard not to show how concerned they were, but Berga wasn’t sure if it was for his sake or the Mad King’s.

“I don’t know him that well,” Madden replied. “That’s all.”

Berga took a step back as though slapped.

“I’ll go get the doctor.” Bay hurried from the room.

“Is that mine?” Madden was staring at the blood painted over Berga’s arms.

All he could manage was a single nod.

“You should probably go clean it off,” he suggested cavalierly. “Aren’t you, like, a germaphobe or something?”

“Wow, you motherfuck—” Flix raised a fist but before he could do anything, Baikal grabbed onto his wrist tightly.

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