Page 76 of Delivered to the Devil

I should probably be relieved. I’m not six feet under or hanging on by a thread, my wounds seem to be healing, and the fact that I’m in a real hospital must be a good sign. But most of all, I’m afraid. Afraid because I can’t remember how I ended up here. Afraid because Janos isn’t here.

The door opens, startling me and making me turn my head. A small, pretty woman in nurse’s scrubs gives me a kind smile as she comes to stand by my bed. “How are you feeling?” She checks the tube connecting the plastic device on my hand to a bag of liquid, then turns her attention back to me. “I’m Anja, and I’ll be taking care of you today.”

“Where am I?” I manage in a hoarse voice.

She hands me a cup with a straw from the bedside table, then presses a button that makes the upper half of the bed rise, allowing me to sit up enough to drink. “You’re at the University Hospital in Vienna. You were unconscious when you were brought in four days ago. Can you remember what happened before you came here?”

“Where’s Janos?” I cast a longing look at the armchair, like I’m hoping he has somehow appeared out of thin air.

“I don’t know anyone by the name of Janos, but one of the men who brought you in is here, and we’ve notified your family.”

I shake my head, barely grasping what she’s saying. Only one thing is important. “Where’s Janos?”

“Do you know a man named András Káldy?” Her face takes on a serious expression. “He says he’s a friend, but because of your condition when you came in, we couldn’t allow him to see you before you confirmed it.”

I stare up at the ceiling as my head works overtime to make sense of the information. It feels like the name should mean something to me, but I can’t think of anyone besides Janos.

“About thirty years old, average height and build, brown hair, blue eyes,” the nurse explains. “Friendly smile.”

Finally, I remember that my boss is called András Káldy, and her description fits him perfectly. But how could he have brought me here? How would he even know I needed a hospital?

Eventually, I nod as she repeats the question. The nurse’s expression turns grave as she places a hand on my arm. “I have to ask you; is he the one who hurt you?”

When I don’t answer right away, a furrow forms between her curved brows. “Your entire upper body is covered in cuts. It looks like—”

I don’t need to hear her speculations, so I cut her off. “It’s not him.” I might not remember a lot, but one thing I do rememberis Gabor slicing through my skin. Over and over again. Nothing will ever make that go away.

Her mouth twitches like she’s about to say something else, but she drops it and simply nods, probably sensing that I wouldn’t like whatever she wanted to ask. “I’ll tell the reception to send him up, and then I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake, so he can come check on you.”

She finishes by showing me a button on the tube and telling me I may press it if the pain gets worse.

Only fifteen minutes after she closes the door behind her, the door opens again, and a man who looks very much like András comes in.

Confusion muddles my brain. I must look like I’ve seen a ghost as he approaches and I realize it really is him.

His face is taut with worry—everyone seems to be worried around me. Janos did too, I remember. Images of his uncharacteristic frown flicker through my mind, accompanied by eerie sensations and sharp smells. I can’t remember other specifics; only pain. Pain so severe that a wave of nausea rolls through me.

“Where’s Janos?” I say on a whimper as a shuddery sensation tugs at my wounds.

András halts a few feet from the bed, confusion deepening his frown.

“Where’s Janos?” I repeat a bit louder.

“He’s in Budapest,” he says hesitantly, clearly unsure if it’s the right answer.

I shake my head as if I don’t understand. And in a way, I don’t. I have no idea why I’m here. Or why András is here.

Did he get worried when I didn’t show up at work, found out where I lived, and went there to find me circling the drain? And if so, where’s Janos? There’s no way he’d have let András take me. And András doesn’t stand a chance against Janos.

But András does have contacts, I remember. So maybe Janos is in jail now.

Panic trembles at the edges of my mind, causing another surge of nausea and constricting my muscles. I wince and breathe through rounded lips as the pain flares in my skin. The wounds might have healed somewhat, but far from fully.

András pulls a chair up and sits beside me, studying me with tight features. “How much do you remember?”

“Not much.”

“Do you remember how... you got injured?”

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