Dark Siren by Katerina Martinez

Author:Katerina Martinez [Martinez, Katerina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: BluA
Publisher: Supernal Publishing
Published: 2016-07-17T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Duty Calls

When Isaac awoke his head felt three sizes too big. The morning—it was about eleven, give or take—swam before his eyes like a dizzy blur, giving him the sensation of being underwater with his eyes open. He had been dreaming about the night, about darkness itself. The Good Doctor had been in the dream, its long, pointed mask gleaming like a knife in the dark. It had arched its head back and pecked Isaac on the forehead like a woodpecker striking a tree, and the sharp pain had shot him into the morning with a start.

The world came into focus like an elastic band snapping into place. Everything made sense now. He had been dreaming, but the wound on his forehead was real. He remembered having been struck with a heavy, round, metal case above the left temple. The stitches hadn’t come loose, the bandage around his head remained secure, but thinking about the hit, the way his head shook when it was struck, caused the wound to throb.

“Christ,” he said, as he propped up on his elbows and began to rub his eyes. He hadn’t had more than four hours sleep, and the urge to lay his head back on his pillow was a powerful one, but Isaac’s willpower prevailed. He twisted his body, slipped his feet out of the bed, and sat on the edge for a moment, checking to see if the act of moving made him dizzy. It didn’t. Isaac then went to the bathroom, washed his face with a cold splash of water, and unwrapped the bandage he had himself applied before bed.

Alice had done a good job with the stitching. The line of flesh was clean, the stitches were tight, and a little blood had begun to clot at the seam, sealing the wound further. He had finished applying fresh gauze and a clean, long Band-Aid to his upper eyebrow when his phone went off like an explosion of sound. The whole left side of Isaac’s brain seemed to wobble inside his skull. He grabbed the phone, set it to vibrate, and answered—without looking at the caller ID—with his right ear.

“Good morning, this is Isaac Moreau,” he said, his voice and the unconscious smile on his lips acting of their own accord to perfectly mask the pain he was in.

“Isaac,” said the voice on the other side. Female. Stern. Business. Boss. “A moment?”

“Of course. What can I do for you today, Linda?”

“What can you do for me? You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

“Have I?”

“Tonight? The opening? Your new wing? I thought you would be here by now.”

“Well, of course I haven’t forgotten that. I was under the impression there had been something else I may have forgotten, which is why you were calling.”

“Why else would I call?”

“Linda, I thought you knew me better than that by now. I don’t need babysitting.”

Although, in truth, if Linda Perkins hadn’t called, Isaac may have remembered too late about the opening of the new wing at the Ashwood Imperial Museum, and this would have been unacceptable.

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