Priceless

escape. However, it wasn’t yet my time to die.
    That was the day Giselle told me I was an Immune, something she’d been suspecting, but hadn’t known for sure until I’d been bit. I was Immune not just to the supernatural bites that could turn me furry or sunlight hating, but immune to poisons of all kinds. I was also immune to most, but not all, magic and was invisible to most psychic probing. It was a sweet deal and not a part of my nature many people knew about. It was an ace up my sleeve when hunting for kids. The supernaturals who’d taken them didn’t know I wouldn’t be affected by their spells, bites, and incantations. Yay for genetic throwbacks.
    We pulled up to the hospital and I parked on the curb, getting Giselle as close to the door as possible.
    “Here we are.” I opened the passenger door.
    At first, she looked surprised to see me. Then she smiled and said, “Did you find your blue socks, dear?”
    I shook my head. “I was hoping you could help me find them. I think I left them here.” I pointed to the hospital.
    She squinted in the direction of my hand. “You think you left them in a hospital?”
    I blushed. This would not be a good time for her to be more lucid. When she was angry, she could give O’Shea a run for his money.
    “Yes, the hospital. I think that’s where they are. Can you help me?” I hoped to just get her inside.
    Giselle followed me in through the sliding front doors and up to the reception desk without a word, lowering herself slowly into one of the padded chairs set out for the infirm. I watched her a moment before turning to the clerk. “I’d like to admit my friend. She’s not competent and I think she may be quite sick. Maybe an infection of some sort. She’s been hanging around the neighbors who just got back from Mexico.” That got the clerk’s attention real fast, what with all the upheaval of the Swine flu coming up from down south. Of course, it wasn’t true, but I didn’t want them pissing around with whether or not to admit her and for how long. Just the possibility of Swine flu was an automatic admittance for someone Giselle’s age, and a minimum of a one-week observation around here.
    Within moments, they had Giselle under quarantine, settled into a private room, on fluids and a heavy dose of sedatives to keep her quiet.
    I stood by her side, mask over my nose and mouth, holding her bare hands with my gloved ones. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me anyway. The week of warmth and good food would help her more than anything else, and having her in the hospital would keep me from worrying when I should be focusing on India.
    Leaning in, I gave her a kiss on the cheek through the paper mask, then started out the door.
    “Milly will come back, Rylee.”
    I spun back toward her. “What?” But her eyes were closed and her breathing was even, her body slumped with sleep. There was nothing more, and again I headed out the door. Maybe I was hearing things, or maybe I was just hearing things I wanted to hear.

~6~
    A gain, I worked my way through the subdivision, this time with a distinctive shadow behind me. A traditional FBI dark-coloured SUV trailing at a distance of no more than three car lengths followed me through all the twists and turns. For now, I ignored them, but at some point I was going to have to do something about them. Damn O’Shea, he was going to make things difficult right off the bat this time.
    I pulled up to a small green-trimmed house, a two-story, with a perfectly manicured lawn out front. The only concession to living in a more rural part of the country was the Christmas lights that were still up from last year.
    Leaving my Jeep, I made my way around the side of the house and through the perfect, non-rusty gate in the perfectly trimmed white fence. The basement was a separate suite and was rented out to Kyle Jacobs, an eighteen-year old computer geek fresh out of high school who also happened to be the best hacker in town. Make that the best hacker, period.
    Not bothering to knock, I let myself right in. If Kyle didn’t know you or didn’t like you, the door would be locked. He had the whole place bugged with cameras and recorders and the door could be locked with a simple remote control he kept with him at his work desk. The kid was more paranoid than an alcoholic who’d “seen” someone looking at them sideways.
    The hallway was bare of any personal things; a camera was