Page 58 of The Heir
"I did not faint!" I roar, huffing out an exasperated breath.
"Sure you didn't, buddy." Rebecca cocks her hip. "By the way, the phone in your room is ringing off the hook. I don't know how you gave out a phone number—I haven't seen you touch the thing."
Fear grips my stomach. "Did anyoneanswer it?"
"Yeah, I did. Once. There was a woman on the other end. She didn't give me her name. She sounded very… brusque."
"Brusque? Not jokey? Not menacing?" Melody demands. I stare at Rebecca, waiting for her to answer. If Ella's awake, and she knows where we are… no one in this hospital is safe.
"I… wouldn't say menacing? She sounds like every businesswoman in a late '90s drama. Like, rememberWest Wing?She sounds like that." Rebecca throws her thumb over her shoulder. "She said it was urgent."
The Eligos. Relief floods through my veins, and I rush back to our room. Helena and Melnyk will understand. It's not leaving without a goodbye; it's me conducting business. As I always do. As I was born to do. And now, there's so much more on the line.
True to Rebecca's word, the phone rings incessantly as I swing open the door. I nearly trip over myself scurrying to the yellowed plastic landline phone.
"Hello? Eligos?"
"Took you long enough." The Eligos's clipped tone is tinny in my ear. "You've been in that hospital for over 24 hours, and you haven't made contact?"
"How did you—never mind. What is our status?"
The Eligos's sigh crackles over the phone. "It's not good. The Belphegor has been shot—we don't know his condition. The Marbas is verifiably dead. TheBeacons—all of them, all over the world—have gone on the offensive. And, as you know, Ella is the Nephilim."
"That she fucking is," I snarl. "But has anyone seen her? Heard from her? When we left, she was bleeding on the concrete. Melody went a bit overboard, I think."
"She's alive. But Melody knocked her down a peg, we think. She's injured, furious, and more powerful than she's ever been. Every Beacon on the planet reports to her."
"So, what do we do now? We're in this hospital, as you've discovered—Helena is mostly fine, but Melnyk is recovering from surgery. We still don't know what she did to him. He…." I trail off, sucking in a breath. "They hurt him, Eligos. They beat him within an inch of his life—that much is clear. But we don't know much more than that."
"The sister did that," The Eligos replies, almost flippantly. Like his condition is a footnote. "Hannah, I believe. She took her rage out on him over losing her brother."
"He didn't kill him! I did—Melody did!" I shout into the phone.
"I know that. Do not yell, I can hear you just fine," The Eligos snaps. "As to your question, I have a convoy en route. I've already seen the surgery report. My people will be there within the hour with two medical doctorson board. You'll be delivered to my safe house near Cancun."
"How many safehouses do you have?" I ask, running a hand down my face. My beard has grown long enough to be soft, instead of scratchy.
"Enough. Oh, I understand congratulations are in order. Congratulations."
"Did Rebecca—"
"You insult me, Dantalion. I can get into anything, can I not?"
"Right, of course. Well. Thank you."
"Unnecessary. My people will see you soon."Click.
A frazzled breath whooshes out of my lungs. I plop down on the hospital bed and rake my fingers through my hair. The Eligos found us—she knew where we were the whole time? Had she tried to stage a rescue? She didn't really allow for questions, but if we'll be picked up by her people soon… I hope some of them have answers.
I need to warn my wife and crew.
Melody
Dante warned me about The Eligos sending a caravan, but it still shakes me to my core seeing a horde of people with massive guns all dressed in black. They descend upon the hospital and toss a gigantic bag of money toward Rebecca, who barely catches it, wide eyes staring in shock.
"Your assistance was appreciated, and we believe this to be an appropriate compensation." A tall,thin man with shaggy black hair nods to Rebecca. He produces a small business card and shoves it in her hand. "If you feel it is lacking in any way, please call our relations line. We will be taking our leave—and our associates—now."
My stomach flip-flops as I'm rushed to an armored vehicle, and my lunch threatens to make a reappearance. Dante keeps a steadying hand on the small of my back. I'm a little worried he's going to feel my sweat seeping through the cheap clothes the hospital gave me. But, on the other hand, he's seen me covered in multiple people's blood. A little sweat won't kill him.
