Vicious Grace Part 18

They walked out quietly, Ex with a little help from Chogyi Jake. Kim hovered at the threshold for a moment, her gaze equal parts anxiety and exhaustion. When she closed the door, Aubrey and I were alone. He sat on the desk, his arms crossed. He looked older. I always knew there were threads of gray in his hair, but I saw them now. Sure, he looked tired, but more than that, he looked weary. I could still remember the first time I'd seen him, in the Denver airport holding up a sign with my name on it, spelled almost right. I remembered his empty eyes after our first, failed attempt on the Invisible College and the joy of seeing him come to after we'd taken them out. Holding him while he wept in the warm New Orleans night. Funny how many of our good times involved people dying.

"I should have called you," he said. "Or at least I should have told you why I wasn't calling you."

"I get it," I said.

"I didn't mean to be a s.h.i.theel. And I certainly didn't mean to drive you to this."

"Don't worry about it."

"I was confused," he said. "Honestly, I still am. What Eric did . . . it reframes a whole part of my life."

"You know what?" I said. "I actually totally know how that feels."

He smiled and laughed.

"Yeah. You do, don't you," he said. Then, "Kim said you went to her place. Looking for me."

"It seemed like a good bet," I said.

"I wouldn't do that to you. I know I said some things in the heat of the moment, but I wouldn't run off to Kim and ignore you. I was very angry and confused and hurt, but I hope I wasn't a total jerk."

"You weren't," I said. "Just a normal, garden-variety jerk. Still far from total. I've done worse myself."

The air conditioner clacked and muttered. A computer hummed. My cell phone chirped again. The moment seemed slow and airless and over too quickly.

"You're not Eric," he said. "You're not like him. You didn't do the things he did. You shouldn't have to pay for his sins."

"Yeah, but I do," I said, trying to make it sound light. "Ain't fair, but there you go. I know why you didn't go to Kim. And why you didn't stay at the condo with me. You're screwed, right? If you get involved with Kim again, try to make sense of what actually happened between you two and see who you are to each other, you're breaking up with me for something that's not my fault. And if you stay with me and go on like we've been doing? Well, that's not fair to Kim, right? Walking away from her knowing what happened means this time you're choosing to leave her. And it turns out for something that's not entirely her fault. You want to be fair, but you can't."

"I don't think anyone's psychic well-being is really determined by whether I'm sleeping-"

"Aubrey. I love you. And Kim loves you. And you're in a position where you have to pick between us, but you can't do it. So after long and sober reflection, you're going to leave both of us and strike out on your own. It's not great, but at least it's evenhanded. Am I right?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Deep, unhappy lines etched themselves in his mouth and the corners of his eyes. The situation was unsalvageable. Even now, some part of me hoped that he'd say no, that he'd find some other alternative and make everything okay.

"It was that or a three-way," he said.

Okay. That wasn't the kind of alternative I'd been thinking of.

"You're joking," I said.

"I am absolutely joking," he said with a sad kind of smile that meant he had been, and also he hadn't. He wanted to be what I wanted and what Kim needed, and he'd resigned himself to failing us both. "Two girls at once was never one of my big fantasies."

"No?"

"Well, pleasant thought, I guess, but I always figured I'd wind up feeling like the host at a party, you know? 'Doing all right? Can I get you anything? How about you? Everyone okay?'"

I laughed, and he blushed. There were only three steps between us. They seemed like an ocean until I took the first one. Then he was right there. I kissed him softly, opening his mouth with mine for what we both knew was the last time. We were both crying a little.

"Aubrey," I whispered.

"Jayne."

"You're fired," I said. "I'm breaking up with you. Me. With you."

He leaned back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He didn't understand.

"If you stayed with me," I said, "I'd always know you were thinking about Kim. And Eric. Wondering what it would have been like if you hadn't run into my uncle. You'd keep it hidden because you're a stand-up guy, but it would be there, and we'd both know it."

"But-"

"I'm not going to live that way. Go where you want. Do what you need to do. But you're not welcome in my bed or with me. You understand? I'm telling you right now you've got no place here."

His face was gray, but something deep in his eyes was glittering. It looked like hope. I was sad to see it there, and happy too.

"You're doing this so I'll stay with Kim," he said.

"I don't care what you do," I said. "That's your business."

"This is silly-"

"No sillier than ditching both of us out of a misplaced sense of chivalry," I said. Then, more gently, "You need someone to tell you it's over. That's me. It's over."

He took a long, shaking breath. His fingers touched my cheek. I wanted to turn toward them, to press his palm against me. But then I would want something else, some other last thing for the last time. This was as good a boundary as any. I stepped away. His arm fell to his side.

"Fired, eh?" he said.

"Pink-slipped," I said, fighting to keep the catch out of my voice. "Let go. No longer with the company."

"All right," he said.

"The severance package is pretty good," I said.

"No. Jayne, I can't-"

"It's Eric's money," I said. "After what he did to you-to both of you-you've got some coming. Besides, it would make me feel all magnanimous and stuff."

"We'll talk about it," he said.

"I'll tell the guys when we get back to the condo," I said.

"Think they'll be okay with it?"

In point of fact, I thought Chogyi Jake already knew as much about it as Aubrey or me. And Ex would probably be quietly pleased, though he'd never show it. That was going to be a whole new box of problems, but later. That was for later.

"It's the right thing," I said instead of answering.

The others were waiting in the hallway. Ex was standing up on his own now, even though he still had one hand protectively over his solar plexus. He looked annoyed. Chogyi Jake smiled at me and Aubrey both, and Oonishi glowered. Kim took a step forward, then paused. Her movements were sharp as a bird's. She probably wasn't quite sober yet.

"Right," I said. "Let's go home."

The quiet hospital corridors felt colder than when I'd come in. Our footsteps echoed. We rounded a corner and almost walked into a security guard. He stared at us, clearly alarmed to find a bunch of people tramping through the dark hallways. I smiled and nodded. The elevator Oonishi led us to was different from the one we'd come down in. Deep enough for a gurney and equipment and medics to surround it, it looked more like a freight elevator. With all six of us inside, there was still enough room to break apart. Kim stood at the back, arms folded, and Oonishi beside her and Aubrey. Chogyi Jake and Ex and I were by the door. Like a single cell becoming two daughters, we were pulling apart.

It wasn't the first time I'd lost a lover. Depending on how I counted it, it was either the second or the third. But it was the first time that I didn't feel lost or confused. Sad, yes. Emptied. Dreading the moment when, still half asleep, I would reach for Aubrey and wonder where he'd gone. But I also felt calm and centered and certain, and that was new. I had to think that it came from having done what needed doing. When I looked at Aubrey, I thought I saw the same look in his eyes. Sad. Relieved. It was a peaceful kind of grief.

Kim looked from one of us to the other, confused. I figured he could tell her what had happened later. My cell phone chirped again, and I swung my pack around to get it out. Seven missed calls, six new voice-mail messages, and I'd slept through all of them.

"Third floor?" Ex said.

"There's a walkway to the parking structure," Oonishi said. "It's the only way to get there. They lock the ground-floor doors at midnight. You can get out, but you can't come back in."

"What time is it?" Kim asked.

"Quarter to three," Aubrey said.

"Jeez," I said, checking the readout on the cell to confirm it, "how long was I asleep?"

"Five hours, more or less," Oonishi said.

"Weird," I said. "Didn't seem that long."

The first message was Chogyi Jake wondering where I was and asking me to call him back. Then a number I didn't recognize. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into a dim hallway with arrowed signs pointing toward Pediatric ICU and Labor and Delivery Unit. A soft, artificial breeze stirred the flyer on the wall, 72-point Arial about Project Morning Air fluttering uneasily, and David Souder started talking in my ear.

"Something's wrong. Something's happening. I can feel it. It started an hour ago, and I thought . . . I thought maybe I was having an anxiety attack or a stroke or something, but I'm not. Something's coming after him. I . . . I can't explain this. Grandpa Del, I can feel it that something's coming after him. He's scared. He needs help."

The memory came back, fleeting bits of the rider's consciousness I'd stolen in the fight: the dark room, the metal tank. Hurry, she's killing me. I didn't realize I'd stopped walking until Ex looked back at me. He started to talk, but I held up a hand, silencing him.

"I know you told me to stay away, but . . ." David said. His voice was shaking. "Call me back. As soon as you get this, call me back. I'm getting in the car now. It's at least a couple hours down to Chicago. Just call me."

The message had been left at ten thirty, almost as soon as I'd gotten to sleep. I said something obscene. The others cl.u.s.tered around me, questions in their eyes. I thumbed onto the next message. Chogyi Jake saying that Oonishi had called, and that he, Ex, and Aubrey were coming to Grace. An empty message from Ex's cell number. Kim saying that she'd gotten a call from Ex, and she was coming to the hospital. Then David again.

"Jayne, I don't know where you are, but I'm at Grace Memorial. It's a little after midnight. I know you said it was dangerous here, but I know that this is the right thing. Grandpa Del's in there. He's . . . talking to me."

"That's not your grandfather," I said to the recording. "Come on, snap out of it. It's not him."

"He's in trouble. Something's after him. A spirit or a ghost or something. Invisible, but it's burning. Sonnenrad, I don't know. It's really powerful, and I have to help him now. It's okay, though. It's going to be okay. I know where he is, and I know how to get him out. It's going to be all right."

I fumbled with the b.u.t.tons, calling him back. I was muttering obscenities under my breath. Down the line, David's phone rang. Once, twice . . .

"Hi, this is Dave Souder. If it's about a roofing problem, give me a call at the office. That number-"

I killed the connection.

"Problem?" Ex said.

"David Souder's here someplace," I said. "In the hospital. He got here two, maybe two and a half hours ago."

"What is he doing?" Aubrey asked.

"Digging up his grandfather," I said.

"What?" Oonishi said, raising his hands in bewilderment and annoyance.

"That's a real problem," Kim said.

I pushed the cell phone into my pack and pressed my palms to my temples. I had to think. He was in the hospital already, within the rider's domain. Even if I could talk to him, I wasn't sure I'd be able to break the control it had over him now.

"Okay," I said. "We need to find him. The rider's able to guide him. Talk to him. It's probably worked out a plan to get David there as quickly as possible. Wherever the h.e.l.l 'there' is."

"Civil defense ward under the north tower," Ex said. "Fifth level down, right underneath the fallout shelter."

"Really?" I said.

"All this time you people were sleeping and figuring out your love lives, I was working. Remember?" Ex said. "It's not spelled out on Eric's blueprints, but the implication's right there."

"Okay," I said. "Once he gets there, how hard is it to undo the interment?"

"If he can get the coffin," Chogyi Jake said, "it's not hard at all. A little blood, the right words, and the intention. It's like a balloon. All you have to do is make a pinhole and the pressure inside it does the rest. But reaching the coffin might not be easy."

"But we don't have a north tower," Oonishi said.

"You used to," Ex said. "It got incorporated in the new design in '48. You know how the floor numbers are different east and west of the operating theaters? That's because the new construction joined the north tower with the Campion office complex that was just east of it, and they used different-"

"Ex!" I snapped. "Gold star for research later. Why won't the coffin be easy to get to?"

"Um," Ex said. "Because it's buried?"

"Probably under a concrete slab," Chogyi Jake said. "If he didn't bring a jackhammer or dynamite-"

"A tank of gas," I said.

"There are plenty of ways to make something explode in a hospital," Kim said. "We've got a lot of tanks of pressurized gas, and most of them are oxygen."

"What's cyclopropane?" I asked.

"It used to be an anesthetic," Oonishi said. "No one uses it anymore."

"Because it kept blowing up?" I asked. Oonishi blinked. That was answer enough. "Ex. Can you get us to the civil defense ward?"

"The plans were eight years old. If they haven't remodeled anything, then yes."

"Let's go," I said. Aubrey hit the elevator's call b.u.t.ton, and the doors slid open immediately. Oonishi came in with us. As the doors slid closed, I wondered whether I should have told him to get out instead. The car dropped down, gravity shifting. I watched the numbers crawl: Two. One. G. L. B. B1. SB1. SB2. We were underground, and I imagined that I could feel the weight of earth pressing in against the air.

I'd underestimated the rider. I didn't get to do that twice. If we could reach David before it was too late, carry him out of the hospital, we'd be okay. We'd sedate him if we needed to . . .

The doors slid open on a hallway, fluorescent lights bright as noon, and green-white walls that kept every ray of it bouncing back. The ceiling was high, marks on the wall showing where a network of sound-killing acoustical tiles had once been. Pipes ran the length of the hall, turning at corners or vanishing into walls. I thought of blood vessels. Grace Memorial as a single, vast body more complex than any individual human within it.

"We're going to need to head north," Ex said.