Page 31 of Through the Veil (Endangered Fae #2)

Chapter eighteen

A Matter of National Security

“ P ulse at over two hundred.”

“Pressure’s dropping fast, eighty over sixty…seventy over forty…”

“I need that epi now, folks! Let’s move like you’ve got a purpose in life!”

The voices reached Finn over a vast distance, a long, dark tunnel separating him from the world.

Bright lights flashed in and out of his vision, sickening jolts of movement lurched through the haze.

All the rest was pain, so much sharp, agonizing pain, enveloping him, stealing thought and sense.

The urge to scream stabbed at him constantly.

He might have been screaming all along but he couldn’t recall and could no longer discern if he was.

One thought remained to torment him as a counterpoint to the agony. My light, my hero, I have failed you. Again.

So thirsty. Blinding headache. Why won’t someone turn off that damn light?

Diego moaned when he tried to roll over. Sheets, blanket, pillow, he was waking up in a bed, at least. He cracked an eye open and found his vision filled by a metal rail. Hospital bed, somehow he’d ended up back in a hospital.

But which hospital and what the hell had happened?

Seizure, men from the government, weapons firing…

“ Finn! ”

He surged up halfway before the nausea and the heated iron spike through his skull slammed him back to the mattress, writhing and tossing. Monitoring equipment chirped and beeped alarms. Hurried footsteps dashed to his bedside.

“Mr. Sandoval? Can you hear me? You need to lie still…that’s it.”

Someone dimmed the lights and shut off the alarms, slid an arm under his shoulders, and held a straw to his lips. The gentle hands and soothing voice belonged to a broad-shouldered man with close-cropped blond hair.

“Doctor?” Diego croaked out.

“No, sir, I’m your nurse, Sergeant Morrison. Doc’s on her way.”

Sergeant… Dios , I’m in a military hospital. Diego managed a weak nod and allowed himself to be lowered back to the pillows.

“Well, hello, there.” Another face joined the sergeant’s hovering over him, this one attached to a young woman with a heart-shaped face and a glorious fall of auburn hair. “Was starting to wonder if you were ever going to join us.”

“Who…” Diego grimaced and swallowed against a raw throat.

“I’m Dr. Brennan. You just relax, Mr. Sandoval. Zack’s going to get you settled and give you something for the pain, and I’ll be back in a few for a chat.”

Diego fought against panic. Two things kept him from blurting out questions—the fact he could barely speak and the uncertainty of his situation.

The military presence could mean he was in the hands of any one of dozens of government agencies, though the little operation on his front lawn suggested the CIA or NSA first and foremost. If that were the case, information would be the key commodity, which he would part with sparingly and only when he could think straight.

His nurse, a rather handsome one he had to admit, elevated the head of his bed, helped him with aspirin and water, and brought him another blanket, careful of Diego’s left ankle, wrapped tight with an elastic bandage.

“Here’s the direct line to me, Mr. Sandoval.” Sergeant Morrison put the call button by his right hand. “You need anything, you feel sick or dizzy, you ring for me, okay?”

I need Finn. Diego nodded, eyes closed. Damn it, where was Finn?

Had he survived? He tried to reach out, to find the bright spark of Finn’s mind, but something pressed in on him, stifling the world’s magic and truncating his reach and negating the power he had become so accustomed to having at his fingertips, as if his limbs had all been amputated at once.

A boulder-sized lump rose in his throat along with the helpless despair.

Even knowing a good deal of his emotional turmoil was post-seizure depression didn’t help.

How could he bear to go through this again, separated from Finn, not knowing?

God help me, I can’t do this. Tears stung the backs of his eyes.

A chair scraped next to the bed. “Do you need a moment, Mr. Sandoval?” Dr. Brennan sat beside him, a clipboard in one hand, and a box of tissues in the other.

“No.” Diego sniffed and shook his head, gulping air in an attempt to prevent sobs. “Just…”

“Hits a lot of folks that way, don’t worry. You take a few minutes.” Dr. Brennan’s bright green eyes held every sign of real compassion. Her friendly sincerity only made Diego more suspicious.

“Where…?”

“Okay, I guess I need to say this right off the bat. I’m not at liberty to discuss anything but your medical condition. Not location, not whys and hows, and not the, ah, incident.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Diego rasped out. “Strangers invade my property and shoot people I care about, and it’s an ‘incident’?”

“There are a lot of things that aren’t in my power to do for you or answer for you.” She leaned her head on her hand. “So how about you let me do my job and accomplish the things I can for you?”

He struggled with that for a moment, wanting to shake her and demand information. With a soft sigh, he finally whispered, “Diego.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please call me Diego. Or I’ll keep looking around for my father.”

She laughed at that. The evidence of a sense of humor gave him some hope. “All right, Diego. Have you had seizures previously?”

“Yes. About three years.”

“Taking anything for them?”

He waved a hand toward his feet. “What happened to my ankle?”

“You were restrained when you seized. It’s sprained. Painful, but nothing broken. Meds? You didn’t have any on you.”

“Carbamazepine. They didn’t exactly give me a chance to get the bottle out of the medicine chest,” he said in a dry tone.

“I’ll write a scrip for you and send Zack down to the dispensary. Allergies? History of fainting? Dizzy spells?”

The familiar questions went on and on, a list countless doctors had run through with him, so he was able to answer in a civil, mechanical fashion, falling back on the automatic expectations of a doctor-patient relationship.

She truly seemed competent and friendly, but Diego still resented that this doctor had been thrust upon him in such horrible circumstances.

When she left, Sergeant Morrison returned with the meds and some dry toast. Since no time elapsed between her going and him coming in, Diego surmised the room was monitored, everything he said overheard and most likely watched.

“Been in the service long?” Diego asked, since it seemed odd not to speak to a man who had probably seen him naked.

“Only forever, sir.” The big sergeant chuckled.

“Can’t be that long. You’re, what, twenty-two?”

“Twenty-five, sir. Military family, Dad, Granddad, Mom, so it seems like always.” He picked up Diego’s wrist to take his pulse. “How about you, Mr. Sandoval, you ever enlist?”

“No. They wouldn’t have me now, I suppose, with the medical problems. But mostly the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ issue kept me away.”

“Yessir, that can be tough.” Morrison’s eyes tightened. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Direct hit. “But lots of soldiers manage, and it’s better than the old days when it was automatic dishonorable.”

“True.” Diego stayed quiet for a few minutes, letting Morrison do his work. “Sergeant? I know you probably have orders, but could you tell me one thing?”

“Depends on the one thing, sir.”

“Was there anyone brought in with me? Are they…were there casualties?”

Morrison’s gaze twitched up and to the left. Ah, there the tiny camera perched. “Couldn’t say, sir. I’m assigned to take care of you. That’s all I know.”

Bullshit . “I understand, Sergeant. Not fair to badger you.”

“No harm, no foul, sir.”

After another long silence, the Sergeant settled in the bedside chair to fill out paperwork. “I’m reading your book,” he murmured without looking up, a shy smile tugging at his mouth.

That was unexpected. “You are? The Dragon one?”

“Yessir.” The little smile grew more uncertain. “Don’t suppose you’d tell me if Trae buys it? I mean…it’d be kind of harsh if you killed him off.”

Diego stared at him. “You really think that’s a good question to be asking me right now?”

“Sorry.” The smile disappeared as a flush rose up the Sergeant’s neck.

Damn. Good job, alienating my one possible ally. “I didn’t mean to snarl. I’m sorry. Just look at it from where I’m standing, ah, lying. I can’t figure out how to get answers to things that might be life and death right now. All you have to do to get yours is finish the book.”

“Right.” Morrison ran a hand back through his short hair with a little laugh. “Look, Mr. Sandoval, I wish I could help you. But this is a strictly need-to-know operation. I only know what I need to do my job.”

Diego searched his face a moment—an honest one with long-lashed, gray eyes that didn’t seem capable of hiding even a white lie.

“And even if you did know, I can’t jeopardize your career and expect you to tell me things you’ve been told not to.

So, I won’t ask you, and you read the rest of the damn book. Deal?”

Morrison grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “Deal. You get some rest, Mr. Sandoval. I’ll be back later.”

Sleep crept up slowly, dragging Diego under by degrees. He dozed, twitched awake with his heart pounding then dozed off again several times before he drifted deeper where dreams lurk.

He walked a stark landscape full of dust and harsh light. No shadow fell in front or behind him. An outcropping of jagged rock rose before him, its bright sandstone gleam somehow forbidding. He climbed, because he knew he must, every inch of ground gained a torment to his bleeding hands and feet.

Halfway up the fall of stone, the narrow way opened to reveal a flat, inclined table of rock where Finn lay spread-eagle, short chains holding him fast. He opened his eyes—sightless, hollow pits—at Diego’s approach. “My love,” he whispered. “You must not tarry here.”

“I can’t leave you like this.” Diego stroked the matted hair back from Finn’s missing eyes.