Page 31

WHEN I GET out of the shower, I check my side and right wrist. There’s still a deep red slash where the bullet grazed me. My wrist aches and blood still trickles from the edges of the cuts where the plastic cuffs bit into me. My arms and back are covered in bruises. This isn’t right. I should be more healed by now. This half-alive skin suit is second-rate stuff. Until Howard puts me back together again, I’m going to have to be more careful in fights. Though with any luck, tomorrow night is the last time I’ll have to worry about that.

It’s only a little after five, but I’m suddenly very tired. I decide to lie down for an hour and then go check on Marcella.

When I wake up, it’s after dark. I’ve slept three hours. There are streaks of blood on the sheets where my wrist rested. Now when I check it, it’s healed. It’s the same with my side. The red has gone out of the bullet wound and the skin has almost closed. This is good to know. My body takes longer to pull itself together and it uses more energy, so I’ll get tired faster. I need to remember that in case things get hot at the chapel tomorrow.

I get dressed and go down to the bowling alley. I can hear Marcella in the bathroom when I stick my head in. There’s a rollaway bed near the wall and a tray of uneaten food on the seats by the ball return. No problems here. I leave and go back upstairs before she sees me.

When I go into Sandoval’s office it’s just her, Sinclair, and Howard inside. They’re deep in discussion when I come in but quiet right down when they see me.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Sandoval goes to the bar and pours herself a drink.

“Did you have a nice nap? I hope no one disturbed your beauty sleep.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn’t think I was going to sleep that long. It’s this body. It runs down fast.”

She looks at Howard.

“Is he telling the truth, Jonathan? Is there something wrong with his body?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” says Howard. “He’s simply in a liminal state between life and death. Consequently, his system runs a bit slower than normal. But aside from occasional bouts of fatigue, there should be no other impairments.”

“You’re sure? Our lives and holdings are riding on this man,” says Sinclair.

Howard looks at me like I’m a bug under a microscope.

“I understand that you were tortured and overpowered several people today. How did you feel while doing it? Any ment

al or physical problems?”

I hold up my wrist so that the others can get a good look. It’s healed but scarred and bruised, covered in patches of livid reds and purples. Sandoval and Sinclair frown at the sight.

“No problems at all. It wasn’t until I got back that I turned to jelly.”

He waves a hand at me.

“You see? No problems. He was able to perform his job, return, and is now awake, refreshed, and completely coherent.” He looks at Sandoval. “I know you’re not used to dealing with creatures such as this but trust me, Eva. He is functioning perfectly normally.”

Speaking of normal, I pour myself a drink at Eva’s bar.

“Thanks, Howard. And if you ever call me ‘creature’ again, I’m going to cut off your tongue with bolt cutters.”

Sandoval pats me on the arm.

“Careful, Stark. You want Howard to be your friend on your trip back to the world of the living.”

“Just tell Dr. Frankenstein to watch his language.”

“Of course. I’m sure he understands what a sensitive snowflake you are,” she says.

“What were you and Sinclair gossiping about when I came in?”

She looks over at him.

Sinclair says, “There were two more assassinations. Jared Glanton and Tetsuya Shin.”

“Here in L.A.?”