L.L. Foster - The Awakening

"Nah. But I do feel a lot better." He daringly reached out and touched her bottom lip with one finger. "Maybe your kiss healed me after all."

Gaby jerked back out of his reach. She and God both knew that her job wasn't to heal.

It was to destroy.

To Mort, she said, " Stay ."

He blinked at her hard and fast, but didn't question her, or object.

Knowing he would do as told, Gaby grabbed Luther by the front of his shirt and dragged him toward a quieter corner. Using anomalous strength that came when she needed it, she shoved his broad back up against the wall.

Luther allowed her manhandling with an amused male smile.

" Don't start questioning me and don't you dare touch me again. I have a tew things to tell you and you're going to listen. Then I'm outta here."

"All right."

"First, you might as well stop grinning like a fool right now because you won't find any of this funny." She sucked up a fortifying breath and strived to calm her anger. "You need to do a background check or whatever it is detectives do with suspicious people, on a physician here. A Dr. Marton."

"Why is Dr. Marton suspicious?"

"Try listening, Luther—I said no questions, remember? I don't have the time or the patience for it! You'll just have to trust me for now."

Wearing a speculative expression, Luther relaxed against the wall. Finally, he nodded. "Okay." But he made it clear, "For now."

Gaby could tell that he wasn't taking her seriously, that he merely indulged her, and more than anything, even more than she wanted to investigate the strange emotions he evoked, she wanted to flatten him.

He deserved no less for the dirty trick he'd pulled on her.

"Since you're being so agreeable, cop, you might as well find out where the indigent cancer patients are sent when they don't have family to look out for them. It's probably a government facility of some sort. You know the type—looks pretty on the outside, but inside it not only lacks proper care but also borders on abuse and neglect. Sort of like the old-folks' homes that are forever getting busted."

Luther started to speak, and Gaby slashed a hand through the air, silencing him.

"After that, you can make damn sure that a just-deceased patient by the name of Ms. Davies is properly put to rest."

Going as high as the bandage on his head would allow, Luther's brows lifted. "Let me guess. You're worried about a zombie now?"

Maintaining her grip on his shirt, Gaby jerked him down closer to her. He winced in pain, but she'd already used up her meager well of sympathy on him.

"No, you smart-ass. I'm worried about a doctor clever enough to make it look like someone has died when she hasn't."

Abrupt comprehension honed Luther's features. Finally, finally, he put stock in what she said.

His brows crunched back down. "Dr. Marton?"

"You really do have a problem remembering that no-questions rule, huh?"

"Fuck your rule. Why do you suspect Dr. Marton?"

"He treats cancer patients."

"So?"

Now that he was riled, Gaby relaxed a little. "I don't know of anything specific, but I imagine there are all types of drugs that could cause the illusion of death. Then maybe that same doctor could have the body moved—"

"Jesus."

"—to a place where he can let the cancer take over. Maybe even cultivate it."

Luther stared at her as if she'd grown two heads. "Why on earth would anyone , but especially a doctor, do something that gruesome?"

"How should I know? There are sick fucks everywhere—but maybe a doctor with a twisted mind would do it for science or some such shit." For emphasis, to make sure that he got the whole picture, Gaby went up on her toes so that their noses almost touched. "Think about it, Luther. What else would explain these strange tumors you described?"

Luther's mouth opened in shock, and then closed again. "I don't know. But Gaby… what you're suggesting, well… You're serious about this?"

"Yup, sorry, cop, but I am. Whether or not you believe me, whether you do anything about it or not, that's totally up to you. I don't have the time or the inclination to try to convince you."

She released him with a shove, but took only one step before coming back around and shoving her face up to his again. "And by the way, it was pretty damn cruel of you to make me sexually aware of stuff when I can't do jack shit about it. I don't know what you were thinking, but let me tell you, it flat-out sucks."

Her charge tipped his composure. His voice dropped and his harsh appearance softened. "Gaby—"

Now that she'd had her say, no way in hell would she stick around to discuss it with him. "Come on, Mort. Get a move on."

With a long stride and fast feet, she made her way down the corridor, not caring if Mort followed or not, and sure as certain not about to look back to see Luther's reaction.

He was cruel.

Cruel, and confusing, and now in the middle of trying to expose a madman bent on unleashing monsters demented from cancerous afflictions on the unsuspecting public, she couldn't stop thinking about sex.

With Luther.

She wasn't at all certain exactly how it'd work, but she knew it'd probably be real nice. Maybe the nicest thing to ever happen to her miserable life.

The painful truth was, she'd never know for sure.

She couldn't know.

Paladins didn't have sex. They obeyed God's command. And so far, God hadn't told her to do the nasty with a detective, and definitely not with Luther Cross. Somehow, Gaby didn't think He ever would.

And that was the crudest truth of all.

"Gaby?"

Anger kept her stewing in silence.

Anger at cancer for being so ugly, so devastating; at Luther for making her curious about things; at God, for making her who she was.

And at herself, for being too weak to change her untenable circumstances.

But she wasn't angry at Mort, so as they exited the air-conditioned hospital and walked out into the balmy night, she swallowed her ire and gave in to him. "What is it?"

"Why were you so upset in the hospital?"

"It's a long story, Mort, but I've known cancer and the damage it does. Being around it, feeling all that malignant evil just makes me ill."

"You felt evil there?"

Through the impenetrable darkness. Gaby gaped at him. "How could you not feel it?"

They reached his beat-up, aged sedan and got inside. Mort started the engine, but didn't drive away. Tall security lamps sent elongated fingers of light through the windshield. Gaby could just see the faint outline of Mort's smile.

"I guess I couldn't feel anything bad because I felt so much good stuff instead."

Good stuff ? Had he flipped? "What the hell are you talking about now? Everyone in there has both feet in the friggin' grave. Jesus, Mort, they're all dying ."

"Not the people who cared for them. They were alive and busy and they all sounded so concerned for that poor Ms. Davies." His hands flexed on the steering wheel. "That can't be an easy job, Gaby."

It'd be more of a hell than what she already did. "I couldn't do it."

"Me, either. Those people are angels."

Angels on earth? Maybe. She'd never really concerned herself with them. Her purpose centered on evil, not good. "That's my point. It's depressing."

"But they give comfort and hope—"

"Hope for what? A quicker death? A less painful death? Doesn't matter, they're still dead." Why the hell did he want to argue this with her? "I could smell it. The only thing that smelled worse was antiseptic."

"I thought it smelled sterile, to protect the patients from germs." He put the car in gear and pulled out of his parking spot. "I'll tell you what. It smelled a whole lot better than that carcass that got hung in the foyer, or the blood on the stairs. It smelled better than the garbage cans that sit in the sun and bake." He glanced her way. "It smells better than the basement we use to clean our laundry."