“I will not.” He lunged for my arm.
I caught his wrist and applied enough pressure to make him wince. I might not be able to kick a dragon’s ass, but after the creatures I had fought, someone with purely human reflexes was no problem.
“Thanks for understanding,” I said politely, noticing a couple at a neighboring table looking our way. “I’ll bring it back when my claim goes through and I’m able to replace my Jeep.” Whenever that was.
As I turned, I almost knocked over the poor waiter. He thrust the chilled bottle of coffee at me and skittered back. I was three inches taller than he was, and even though I’d combed the ferns out of my hair, I could look intimidating when I was pissed. Which I always seemed to be lately.
I waved and thanked him politely. The lieutenant didn’t try to chase me as I strode for the door. Instead, he lifted his phone to make a call. That was probably worse. What were the odds I’d make it through the day without being arrested?
I wasn’t sure I cared. Right now, all I wanted was to see Colonel Willard and—I swallowed around the lump in my throat—figure out what was going on. With her—how could she be so sick out of nowhere?—and with Lieutenant Dickhead. He couldn’t possibly be in charge of her office while she was out. He was too young, too raw, and too much of an asshole.
6
I knocked quietly on the door to the hospital room. Rain had started outside and beaded on the window at the end of the hallway. The muffled mumble from inside might have been, “Come in,” but it was hard to imagine Colonel Willard issuing anything but a firm, crisp, and audible-through-a-door command. At least she was awake and able to have visitors.
When I opened the door, Willard blinked in surprise at me. It was probably weird for her to see me anywhere but our usual meeting spot. It was definitely weird for me to see her here and out of uniform. She sat propped up in the bed and wore a flimsy hospital gown, green-plaid pajama bottoms, and fuzzy orange cat slippers. Was that Garfield?
I squinted at her, wondering if this represented secret tastes I hadn’t known about… or a descent into a childlike mental state.
No, her dark eyes were coherent as they considered me. They were the only normal thing about her. With her brown skin, she couldn’t exactly be labeled pale, but she didn’t look like herself. Her square face was wan, and as short as her wiry black-and-gray hair was, it managed to seem unkempt.
Forcing a smile, I walked in. My step faltered as I saw flowers in vases all over the place. I should have brought flowers, or something nice, not a bottle of no-longer-entirely-chilled coffee that probably wasn’t allowed on whatever special diet they had put her on. At the least, I should have brought a six-pack wrapped in gift paper. Did fancy coffees come in six-packs?
“Val?” Colonel Willard’s southern accent gave my name a longer vowel than usual. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find out why a snotty lieutenant met me at your coffee shop.” I walked to the side of the bed and plunked the bottle down on a tray full of pill bottles. “And to bring you this. I figured the flowers had already been handled.”
“I’ll say. I do appreciate the members of my congregation thinking of me…” She waved to the Bible resting beside her on the bed. “But they could have pooled their funds and spared the lives of a few flowers.”
“I’m pretty sure those are grown in greenhouses for the explicit purpose of being ruthlessly slain for sick people.”
“True.” Willard took the coffee bottle and wrapped both hands around it, gazing down at the label.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction. “I hope that’s the right kind. If it costs more than five bucks, it’s possible I stole it. I flustered the waiter.”
“Did you show him your sword?”
“No.”
“Your tiger?”
“Also no. I did almost smack him with my braid when I turned around.”
“It is an intimidating braid.” Willard opened the bottle and inhaled deeply. “Bless you, child. It has been six days since I had a decent cup of coffee.”
I eyed the pill bottles. Willard had never tried to bless me before, and I wondered anew if this indicated an altered state of mind. Or, I amended as she took a long swallow, maybe she was just missing her fix.
“Don’t you have a delivery app on your phone? I saw three independent coffee shops on the way in.”
“I don’t think you can get coffee delivered.” She tilted her head. “That doesn’t seem right, does it? In Seattle of all places.”
“I think you just didn’t try hard enough.” I bit my lip and looked her up and down, groping for something to say.
I didn’t intend to inspect her for signs of magical energy or tampering or anything out of the ordinary, but I realized as I stared toward her lower abdomen, I sensed… something. It wasn’t like when I sensed that someone had elf or dwarf or a hint of some other magical being in their ancestry. This wasn’t something in her blood. It seemed more like one of my charms tucked out of sight under the blanket. A small magical artifact.
“They’re my niece’s slippers,” Willard said, mistaking my expression and the direction I was looking. “I did enjoy Garfield as a girl. The cartoons in the paper and the little books full of them I got from the library. My mother was always encouraging me to read. She said an education was the best way to get out of the poor town I grew up in. She wasn’t impressed by the comics.”
“I think he’s still around. Garfield, that is. Uhm, are you wearing any trinkets or anything?” I tapped mine, knowing she knew about my magical charms and weapons. I couldn’t imagine her wearing anything in the vicinity of her lower abdomen—a magical belly button ring?—but she could have something under the covers.
“No. I wish. Do you have anything for cancer?”
“Uh, this one protects you from fireballs and also the UV radiation of the sun. I don’t suppose it’s a skin cancer?”
“No. Ovarian, and it’s spread quickly.” A haunted look entered her dark brown eyes.
It was as unfamiliar from her as the Garfield slippers and hospital gown, and I didn’t know how to respond. A hug? A pat on the shoulder? It was hard to imagine the no-nonsense colonel wanting either. The only time I could remember us doing anything like hugging had been on a judo mat, and I’d ended up thrown over her shoulder afterward.
“I’ve had a fever and infection they can’t pin down too,” Willard added, “so they haven’t let me leave the hospital. It’s been a lovely couple of weeks.”
“Is there a plan? How, uhm?” My gaze drifted to a folder on a tray on the other side of the bed. “Do you have scans of, er, it?”
“Yes. I asked for all the information they had. Are you a practicing oncologist when you’re not slaying monsters? How did the wyverns go?”
I took the second question to mean she would rather not talk about details. She must have already started treatment.
“Got the last one. I ran into a dragon though.” I moved around the bed to pick up the folder.
“A dragon?”
“He wrecked my Jeep. And almost me with it. We were after the same wyvern, and I… tricked him and got it first.”