Kate Daniels 01 - Magic Bites

together.
    It was a hell of a kiss . . .
    Darkness claimed me.

EPILOGUE

    HELL LOOKED A LOT LIKE MY HOUSE.
     
    I lay under what appeared to be one of my blankets on what appeared to be my bed. A dull gnawing pain chewed on my ribs. Do people still feel pain in the afterlife?
    There was a glass of water sitting on the night table next to the bed. Suddenly I was very thirsty. I reached for the glass and discovered that both my hands were heavily bandaged. I stared stupidly at the bandages then at the glass.
    A hand wearing a cutoff glove picked up the glass and offered it to me.
    “For a second I thought I might actually be alive,” I said, looking at Nick’s unshaven face. “Now I know—I’ve gone to Hell and you’re my nursemaid.”
    “You’re not as funny as you think,” he said. “Drink the water.”
    I did. It hurt going down.
    He took the glass away from me and got up, trenchcoat brushing the edge of my blanket.
    “Careful with the germs there,” I said.
    “My germs are the least of your problems,” he said. He reached over, swiped his fingers across my arm, and studied the glow. “Doesn’t usually shine this bright. Or last this long.” He turned slowly, surveying my place: the old, beat-up couch, the scratched night table, the ancient rug, the basket full of clean laundry, all threadbare jeans and faded T-shirts, and waved his shimmering fingers. “See? Still going.”
    I raised my bandaged hand and put it on his fingers, smothering the glow. So many people died because of me. Every time I thought about it, my chest ached, and I wanted to grab onto someone and make them tell me it would be alright, the way I wanted to hear it at my father’s funeral. But there was nobody left. And if someone did reassure me, they would be lying.
    I always went out looking for other people’s trouble. Strangers hired me to solve their problems. I’ve spent years making sure problems did not ram my door and tear my life apart. And it didn’t work. So much time wasted. And what did I have to show for it, except the body count?
    “Responsibility is a bitch,” Nick said.
    “Yeah.”
    He took my hand off of his. A faint white radiance still danced on his skin. He shook his head, as if in wonder. “If I were on my own, packing some power, and for some reason not wanting to be found, I might lay low for a while. But I’d know that sooner or later I’d have to come out and play, because whoever’s looking for me would eventually find me. I’d start building some connections. The thing about a lone wolf? Once you corner it, it has no one to turn to.”
    He put a small rectangle of paper on the blanket and walked away. I swiped the card. A phone number without any name or address. I stuck it under my pillow.
    “Curran?” I called after him.
    “He made it,” Nick said.
    Later Doolittle came to visit me. He replaced my bandages, helped me to the bathroom, and told me how Mahon had sent a scouting party looking for us despite Curran’s orders and how the scouts missed us because of the enchantment placed on Red Point. We might have died where we lay if Nick hadn’t stumbled out of the gates.
    They had found sixteen women in Red Point, battered and abused to the point of near death. For seven others we had come too late. Their corpses escaped the horror of the Red Point in body bags. They found Derek too, locked in one of the small rooms.
    Someone finally called the cops and the Paranormal Activity Division had descended onto the old prison like a pack of dogs onto a lost kitten. They unearthed a graveyard of human bones in one of the cellars, enough skeletons to keep the morgue busy for the next year.
    Doolittle forbade me to mess with my bandages for another forty-eight hours and left, promising to send a nurse in his stead. While he was gone, the magic hit and I spent two hours muttering the chants to repair my hands and the wards about my house. By the time the nurse arrived, the defenses were up and she couldn’t get in. I listened to her yell for about twenty minutes and then she left.
    I didn’t want anyone with me. Solitude felt good for now.
    I lay in bed, once in a while making a heroic journey to the bathroom, and thought a lot. There wasn’t much else to do but think.
    Later, I received a visit from the Paranormal Activity Division, whom the ward, unfortunately, didn’t deter. Two plainclothes detectives alternatively tried to charm and bully me into giving them a statement without a