Page 9 of Demon Hunter

Marc hasn’t said it out loud, but the fact that it’s taken him this long to get Matt this far in the healing process is another indication that we basically got here in the nick of time.

Kieran looks up from the couch he’s sitting on beside Connor, who has his face buried in his hands. “Dylan, are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

I shake my head, guilt jabbing me. “I’m fine. Thanks.” Breakfast wouldn’t last more than a minute before I lost it. My stomach is too nervous for food right now. “I just wish they’d hurry up. How long can these tests take?”

Tom gets up from his chair and comes to put an arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“But—” I glance toward the door of the visitor lounge. Ian promised to come and tell us as soon as there was an update.

“We all have phones, and we won’t go far.” Lowering his voice to a whisper, he adds, “I think the pacing is making Connor worse.”

Shit. “Uh, yeah. A walk. I need to shake the cobwebs out of my brain.” I keep forgetting that as far as everyone is concerned, I’m just here as a friend. A good friend, yeah, but not family like Gabe and Ian and Connor. Tom and Kieran shouldn’t have to be looking after me too—I’m not Matt’s boyfriend to them.

Because I’m an idiot.

Tom and I walk out of the visitor lounge and head down the hall to the other end of the building. There’s a kind of terrace area there with some plants and benches, for people like us who might want fresh air but not want to go downstairs and leave the building. The ICU visitor lounge is comfortable and has a small kitchenette and vending machines, but trust me, when you’ve been in it for six hours, you need a change of scenery.

“When was the last time you slept?” Tom asks. After they arrived and got the first update, he and Kieran went and checked us all into a few rooms at the hospital’s hotel. The idea was that we’d spend the time we’re not sitting with Matt resting at the hotel, but the reality is that we sit in the visitor lounge until we’re practically hallucinating, then go to the hotel for a catnap and a shower.

Or at least, that’s my reality.

“Uhh, last night,” I mumble vaguely. It’s not true. Kieran dragged me back there at around two this morning, when Gabe got back from sleeping and took over sitting with Matt from me, but I only stayed long enough to shower and raid the minibar before I sneaked back over and took up residence in the visitor lounge.

“Liar. Dylan, you need to sleep. When Matt’s out of danger and awake, Kieran and I will need to get back to Illinois. With Gabe and Con here, I have to be their link to the compound, and Kier’s got staff on leave at Mannix. They’re coping without him for now, but the weekend is coming up fast.”

I’m not sure why that’s important, but maybe that’s just because my brain isn’t working right.

“We’re kind of counting on you to look after the others when we go,” he continues, and I try not to show how that affects me. All I want right now is to fall to pieces, and I can’t. Having to look after other people on top of that feels like climbing Everest.

“Yeah,” I manage. “I can do that. I swear, I’ll be able to sleep more once he’s awake. When he’s out of the ICU and in a regular room, I can work from his room. I won’t need to sandwich it in to sleep time.” They’ve all seen me using my laptop over the past couple of days, and I know they assume I’m working, not searching terminology from Matt’s chart that I hacked and reading densely worded medical articles that then require me to look up the meanings of more medical terms. Why can’t doctors speak in English?

We make it out onto the terrace, and I breathe the cool morning air deeply, getting a whiff of exhaust fumes from the parking lot below. It’s still a better smell than “hospital.”

“We’re so glad you tried to call him,” Tom says softly, leaning on the railing beside me. He turns his head to study me, his dark curls falling over his forehead. “If Marc hadn’t got here when he did…”

I swallow hard. “I know. It was just lucky.”

He chuckles. “I’ll say. Kind of late for a call. I know you’re a night owl, but Matt likes his sleep.”

He does. I can’t count the number of times I’ve left him passed out in my bed and gone back to work. He’s definitely a diurnal kind of guy.

“I didn’t look at the time,” I lie. “I had a question and just called.” That last part is true, at least. Of course, my question was “Why didn’t you call me tonight; are you okay?” but Tom doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, thank fuck you did.”

“Excuse me,” a voice behind us says, and I turn, only to see that it’s not a living person, but rather a ghost. Belatedly I realize that Tom didn’t react to the voice, though he’s looking at me questioningly now.

“Ghost,” I tell him, then muster a smile for the bewildered-looking woman in pajamas. “Hi.”

“Did you just say ‘ghost’?” She looks from me to Tom, then down at herself. “Is that why I’m wearing my Hello Kitty pj’s in a hospital?”

Aw fuck. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. My name’s Dylan, by the way.” I’ve only ever met a couple of fresh ghosts, but they rarely process their deaths well.

“I’m Kristina,” she says automatically, still staring at her fluffy bunny slippers. Then she lifts her gaze to me. “Well, crap. I’m dead?”

She looks to be only a few years younger than me, so it’s not really that surprising that she hasn’t moved on yet. Her soul might need a little extra time to process its early departure from this incarnation.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

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