Page 43 of The Mage on the Hill
The receptionist frowned at his computer screen, tapped a few keys, and shook his head. “I don’t seem to have anyone by that name listed as a patient.”
“No?” While the young man searched, Darius placed a palm flat on the gray marble counter. Oh yes, there was steel in the frame underneath, steel in the floor girders. He sent his awareness racing out through all the metal and stone in the building, right to the patients’ beds. With his other hand, he pretended to search his phone with a frown of equal perplexity. “Could you… check again?”
“I’m sorry, sir. There’s no one here by that name.”
True. Toby was nowhere on the property. Even if the guild had kept him out of the computer system, Darius would have felt his familiar energy. “Oh. I’m sorry.” Darius shook his head at his phone in manufactured exasperation. “Wrong… hospice. Sorry.”
“That’s all right, sir. Can I help you with directions?”
“No, no.” Darius held up his phone as he started toward the door. “Got it. Thank you!”
He swallowed his disappointment as he climbed back into the Land Rover. Of course Toby wouldn’t be the first place he looked, but he’d thought Avalon a good bet. Toby would’ve preferred the view of the well-tended courtyard garden from every patient room. Now that Darius knew where Toby’s Arcana lay, his channels should’ve been obvious from the beginning. Toby’s affinity for plants had been there, right out in the open, even if he didn’t know much about species or gardening.
The next hospice on his route lurked nearby, amid the little farms and groves of Smith Bridge Road, not far from the state line. Sweetwater Hospice and Rehab had been a farm once, and the old barn remained, refurbished, with a sign indicating it was the physical therapy building. The hospice, a long, low brick building, sat well back from the drive, partly hidden in a stand of black oaks.
Toby would’ve liked this one too. Why am I even considering what he might’ve chosen? I doubt they gave him a choice.
While tidy and comfortable, Sweetwater’s building materials were cheaper than Avalon’s, with a preference for vinyl over natural materials. Darius could have worked his way through to look for structural beams, but the likelihood of a wood frame here would make the search difficult enough to be dangerous.
Instead of striding up to the desk, he slid over to the left and into the waiting room, as if he were expecting someone. Once planted in a chair where he had a good view of reception, he waited until the woman manning the desk had her attention monopolized by an unhappy family grouping who had “only been informed that morning” about where Grandma had been taken.
Darius had his doubts about their claims, but he was more grateful for the distraction than bent on being judgmental. He slid past the desk, again using a confident stride as if he belonged there and knew where he was going. The doors to most patient rooms were open, probably so staff could keep a better eye on the patients. Easy enough to take a quick look as he strolled by.Not Toby. Not Toby. Not Toby. So young… not my business.
One door was closed. He pushed it open as quietly as he could and found he’d disturbed a family in mourning.
“Sorry,” he whispered and ducked back out before he garnered more than a puffy-eyed glare.
Not Toby. Not Toby. None of the patient rooms held Toby. He checked some of the administrative offices just in case, and disturbed a couple of doctors and a patient care plan meeting.Oops. No Toby. He went out the back onto the restful patio they’d built beneath the trees and around to some of the outlying buildings, which had the potential of being secret patient rooms.
No luck.
Darius breathed out a long breath as he returned to his car. He had to think of this as a quest, which weren’t supposed to be easy.Easy. Ha. When he found Toby, his only plan so far was to snatch him and run. Yes. He’d thought this throughquitethoroughly.
Briarwood, down a twisting old rural lane not far from the Coverdale Farm Preserve, was a rambling three-story mansion with patients on each floor. Happily for Darius, he could simply consult the house, since it had been constructed of stone. He knew Toby wasn’t there without even going inside.
The last hospice, situated in that strange bit of northern Delaware between Kennett Pike and 9 Gates Road where nothing was named on most maps, had to be the one. Shadow Creek sounded vaguely like a location in a horror film rather than the cheerful modern building it was. It sat beside a little stream that perhaps someone had called Shadow Creek, the drive and front courtyard surrounded by Trinity pear trees just coming into full blossom. The expanse of delicate white blossoms softened the lines of the building and soothed tired eyes.Toby would like this too.
Darius hesitated. If Toby wasn’t here, what then? Would they have been so devious as to keep him somewhere in secret? It felt so melodramatic that Darius scoffed at the notion. Process of elimination. Toby had to be here.
He strode through the automatic doors at the front and even dredged up a smile for the young person behind the desk. At least, he hoped it looked like a smile. Young person lifted a pierced eyebrow at him and looked a bit concerned.
“Help you, sir?”
“I have an appointment.” There. He’d said it smoothly and all at once as he’d practiced it in the car. “Toby Jones and family.”
“Oh.” Puzzled searching of the computer followed as it had at Avalon. “I don’t see… give me a moment here.”
He took advantage of their search to grab one of the metal legs that held up the reception counter.Metal… metal… yes, I-beams, steel wall supports, metal-framed hospital beds…. Toby…. Toby….Darius frowned at the counter. He had to be missing something, so he started at the beginning and tried again, feeling carefully through the building’s structure, checking every room.
He wasn’t here. Toby wasn’t here.
“I don’t have anything for a Toby Jones, sir. I’m sorry.”
“There aren’t….” Darius flailed inwardly, trying to think of a good way to put it. “Off-record patients… anywhere?”
Their frown deepened. “I worked as an aide for a few years, sir. I know all the rooms here. All of them are full. No Toby Jones.”
“Taylor? Is there a problem here?” A doctor in a white coat had approached on soft-soled shoes. She glanced from the receptionist to Darius.
