The Devil Inside, page 4
Did he have to make it sound like some horrible disease? ‘No. She’s not damaged. Not in the way you mean.’
There was a pause. ‘What is wrong with her?’
There was no point keeping it from them—they’d find out somehow. They always did. ‘She can’t remember me, or Arwen.’
‘What?’
He bit back the urge to swear—or hang up. ‘She’s got some form of amnesia. She can’t remember the last eight years.’ There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. ‘Father?’
‘No, this is your mother. Your father just told me the troubling news.’
Phil rubbed his eyes. ‘Troubling news?’
‘Yes. It is troubling. I don’t want to tell you I told you so, but we told you playing drums would never bring anything good into your life.’
‘What? How on earth is this about me playing drums?’ He swore under his breath.
‘Well, if you hadn’t been off playing with your friends—’
‘My band mates. The ones I’ve earned world-wide fame with and more money than you have.’
‘—she would never have been in that car in the first place,’ his mother continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘By herself to be driven off the road by that madman. And then where were you when she had to have an emergency c-section?’
‘The charity gig was a one-off. I hadn’t played since the accident.’ He’d spent every moment at the hospital with Mel. ‘And the doctors had assured me she was fine and I should go play for the charity. It was for kids with cancer. Nobody knew she’d suddenly develop pre-eclampsia. There’d been no signs of—’
‘You should never have left. Your drumming is like an addiction. You place it before everything else.’
‘I don’t.’ Not always. Not now he had Arwen. And not when Mel needed him. Except … his mother was right. He hadn’t been with her in that car or when she took a turn for the worse and had to be rushed to hospital to have the baby. But then again, drumming had brought him to Mel.
‘Poor Melissa. I can only imagine what she’s going through right now.’
‘Mel loves our life,’ he said feebly, his entire body shaking. He felt like he’d been punched over and over. Why he was surprised, he had no idea. It was always the same tune from his parents.
Their lifestyle: good.
His lifestyle: bad.
As far as they were concerned, he deserved every bad thing coming his way for throwing away the life he’d been born into and choosing his music and the band. The only good thing he’d done was marry Mel. Despite her slight Texan twang, she was ‘all class’ as his mother had said after meeting her.
She was now well into her favourite lecture—that he really needed to come home so that they could fix everything wrong in his life. ‘But Mel’s here. The band’s here.’
‘Bring Melissa with you, of course. And the baby. I’m sure we can get better care for both of them than they’re getting in that little country town.’
‘They’re getting the best care money can b—’
‘And as for that band of yours, they can just do without you. It’s not like they truly need you, do they? I mean, anyone can bang a beat on a drum. You can’t deal with Melissa or the baby by yourself. You’re not up to such a burden. Melissa is one of the best things in your life—’
‘No arguments here.’
‘Well, how can you expect her to fall in love with you again if you stay there doing what you’ve always done? Lightning doesn’t strike twice. Not for people like you.’
He’d hardened himself against his parents and their attitudes years ago, so how was it her words could hurt him so badly now? ‘I’ve got to go.’
He turned his phone off and stared at the wall.
Fuck. What if she was right?
***
Melissa woke with a start, nightmare images of fire and blood and dark crowding her mind. She stared around the room, the night-light allowing her to see the pale walls near the window. The faded blue curtains pulled closed over it hung heavy and limp. Nothing was on fire. There was no blood.
She blinked, clutching the ribbed blanket covering her until the images faded.
It was just a nightmare. One of the many she’d had since waking. They said it was normal for coma patients to suffer from nightmares.
She was safe.
Safe. A word repeated over and over since she’d woken—although, how she was truly supposed to feel safe when so much had changed, she didn’t know.
How could she have lost the last eight years? It was still difficult to comprehend, but she couldn’t deny it. Not only had they shown her proof in newspaper dates, but every time she saw her face in the bathroom mirror, she couldn’t deny it. The lines that hadn’t been there before—added to the short hair she now sported because they’d shorn her hair for multiple operations—told their own tale.
As did the rings on her finger and the ring mark underneath. She couldn’t deny she was married. Nor could she deny the fact that tiny little baby girl was hers. The scar low on her abdomen and the silvery stretchmarks that snaked across her stomach were horrifying proof of it.
‘It’s okay, dearie. It will fade. You’ll still be able to wear a bikini,’ the nurse had said when she’d first seen it after stripping down for her first shower.
She’d stared up at the nurse, unable to comprehend what the hell the other woman was talking about. Why would she be worried about wearing a bikini when her body had been torn open, violated in some way she had no memory of? A baby she couldn’t remember, and didn’t want, pulled from her womb? A baby she was now expected to love when she didn’t remember even wanting her?
Insane. The entire situation was insane.
The nurse had stood there though with that concerned-helpful look and Melissa had begun to laugh. She hadn’t been able to stop laughing and they’d had to give her a sedative. As they had pretty much every day because something always proved to be too much or she couldn’t sleep, not wanting to sink back into the dark where the nightmares waited for her.
Probably why she felt so sluggish now. Jerry had given her a sedative to help her sleep after she’d barely got any rest last night.
She shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind and realised she was running her fingers over her engagement ring and wedding band.
She lifted her hand to look at it now. The wedding band was a simple flat platinum band with Celtic designs on it—not something she would have chosen. However, she did like it. The engagement ring featured an amethyst—her favourite stone—with small seed pearls set into the flat band. It was truly lovely and exactly what she would pick for herself.
She wondered if she had; or if elf-man Phil had picked it for her.
‘You’re supposed to be asleep.’
She looked up as a male nurse entered the room. She knew from his accent that he wasn’t Jerry or any of the other nurses who’d looked after her so far, but she couldn’t see his face given the only source of illumination in the room was the night-light plugged into the wall behind him. ‘I had a nightmare. Are you new? I don’t think I’ve met you before.’
He tipped his head to the side, his face still in shadow. ‘Oh, you have.’
‘Really?’ She knew there were gaps in her memory but she’d not forgotten anything since waking. Hopefully this wasn’t a sign of something bad. ‘What’s your name?’
His head bobbed down towards where his security badge was clipped to his top. ‘Martin.’
‘Nice to meet you, Martin—again.’ She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. The nightmares she could never remember often left her this way. ‘Could you get me some water, please?’
He didn’t move. ‘You look so much like her.’
He had a strange accent—thick and harsh, both alien and yet curiously familiar. A shiver tingled up her spine. ‘Like who?’ She wished she wasn’t lying so flat. She grabbed at the remote control for the bed, but he took it from her and placed it on the bedside table out of reach.
‘No need for that right now. It’s better if you stay lying down.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it will make this easier.’ He moved around the bed but she still couldn’t make out his features—a face mask covered him from nose to chin, his eyes shadowed. ‘Katya and Mikhail wouldn’t have died without leaving the secret somewhere. You have to know. You have to. And you’re going to tell me.’
‘What? What are you talking about? Who is Katya? I don’t know any Mikhail.’ She struggled to sit up, but he put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back.
Breath exploded out of her and she blinked in shock.
He pulled a syringe out of his pocket. ‘Thankfully, I brought this. It will knock you out so I can move you more easily. Then we will get to work.’
He was going to kidnap her? Her gaze flickered to the door—it was slightly ajar. She opened her mouth to scream but he clapped his other hand over her mouth.
‘Now, now. No noise, kukla. You wouldn’t want me to hurt anyone, would you?’ Suddenly he had a knife in his hand, the syringe on the bed beside her.
She shook her head, nostrils flaring against his hand as she tried to pull in a breath.
‘Good, good. So, I’ll let go and you won’t make a sound. Correct?’
She nodded.
He removed his hand.
She screamed.
The sound came out louder than expected and echoed around the room. It startled him enough that when she shoved at his chest, he stumbled back. She rolled off the other side of the bed—thankfully the nurses had stopped putting the sides up a few days ago. She landed heavily on the floor but took another breath past the pain and sedative-heavy limbs and screamed again. Noises sounded from down the hallway—running feet. More than one set. And voices calling out to her—Phil. Jerry.
‘Suka,’ the man snarled.
She pushed away from the bed towards the bathroom door. If she could get in there, she could lock it. She scrambled forward, her limbs not moving smoothly. He was going to be on her any second with that knife.
She looked over her shoulder.
Nobody was there.
The curtain swung at the open window.
‘Mel, Mel?’ The door swung wide and Phil ran in, Jerry and another nurse behind him. The overhead lights flickered on, blinding her after the partial dark. She gasped, lifted her hand over her eyes to shield them.
‘What happened? Have you hurt yourself?’ Phil came down next to her, wrapping his arms around her.
She usually didn’t like PDAs and only liked to be touched by people she knew really well, but right now, it didn’t matter. He was warm and smelled nice and his strong arms were comforting, helping to chase away the shivers. She burrowed into him. He lifted her and carried her to the bed.
‘She must have had a nightmare,’ Jerry said. ‘Fell out of the bed. We might have to put the sides up again.’
‘Did you hurt yourself?’ Phil asked again, thankfully not letting her go.
‘I didn’t have a nightmare. Someone was in here,’ she said against his chest. ‘He said he was going to give me something to make me compliant. He was going to kidnap me. He thought I knew something he needed.’
‘You … what?’
He pulled back from her. She didn’t blame him for the stunned look on his face. It sounded crazy. But it was the truth. ‘He came in after I woke up. He pulled out a syringe. Told me he was taking me somewhere to answer questions. He mentioned people I don’t know. Maybe he had the wrong person. The wrong room. He had a knife.’
‘Shit. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Where did he go?’ Phil asked.
‘I didn’t see. I was trying to get to the bathroom. Lock myself in. But the curtain moved, so out the window?’
Jerry shot a look at Phil and went to look outside. ‘Nobody’s there.’
‘He must have run.’
‘We’re on the second floor. How would someone get down?’ Jerry asked.
The second nurse, Sally, frowned at the door. ‘I would have seen if someone came into the room—I’ve been at the nurses’ station all night.’
‘He could have slipped in when you were doing your rounds,’ Phil said.
‘Perhaps. Although, it’s more likely to have been a nightmare.’
‘No, no,’ Melissa said, shaking her head, looking up at Phil. ‘It was real. He was here.’ She could still feel the imprint of his hand over her mouth, the scent of bleach on his skin. ‘He was here. He was real. His name was Martin.’
‘Martin? But he’s been mis—’
‘Go finish your rounds,’ Jerry said to the other nurse. ‘I’ll take care of Melissa.’
Sally nodded and left. Jerry picked up the chart at the end of the bed and said, ‘Let’s just do some checks.’ He took her blood pressure, oxygen sats and checked her eyes and basic reflexes—frowning at the bruises already showing on her knees. ‘Do you want some ice for these?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s fine.’
‘How is she, Jerry?’
He tapped the chart. ‘Everything is fine. Your heartbeat is elevated, but that would happen after a nightmare.’
‘It wasn’t a nightmare. He was standing right there.’ She pointed to the side of the bed where he’d been. ‘He was going to inject me with something.’ She gasped. ‘The syringe. He put it on the bed. It must have fallen off when I rolled out. Check on the floor.’
Jerry did so as Phil held her. ‘There’s nothing here.’
‘Maybe he picked it up,’ Phil offered.
‘But I don’t think he had time to pick it up.’
‘I think Sally is right,’ Jerry said gently. ‘It’s most likely you had a nightmare. There’s just no sign anyone was here.’
No, no. That wasn’t right. She hadn’t got this wrong. It wasn’t a nightmare. It wasn’t. Was it?
She rubbed her hand over her eyes—a headache pulsed behind them, making her feel nauseated. Could the nurse be right? Had she imagined it? ‘But the curtain moved, like someone had just gone through it.’
‘The breeze is picking up outside,’ Jerry said. ‘There’s a storm coming. Do you want me to shut the window for you?’
She stared blankly at him. No. It wasn’t the wind that had moved it. The curtain had been completely still when she woke up. Hadn’t it?
Phil said, ‘Yes, please. Close it. We don’t want whoever it was coming back.’
‘Phil, I promise you, there was nobody here. Sally or I would have seen them.’
‘Jerry, if my wife says there was someone, there was someone. Have security check the cameras.’
‘I don’t have the authority to do that,’ he said. ‘But I can find someone who does.’
‘Then please do.’ Jerry nodded and left the room.
Phil’s arms tightened around her and pressed a kiss to her head—why did it feel so good? She didn’t know, but couldn’t stop herself from burrowing deeper into him, holding him tighter, wanting him to hold her like this forever.
‘I shouldn’t have left you alone,’ he said after a long moment of silence. ‘I’m so sorry.’
She pulled away just enough to look up at his face. ‘You believe me?’ Even she was starting to think she’d imagined it.
‘Of course. It was probably some media type who managed to get in somehow—bloody blowflies. I’ll get Nigel to—’ He stopped, cursed under his breath, his face paling. She squeezed his hand. He and his bandmates—Craig and Dae—and their producer, Lexi, had filled her in on what had led up to her accident; about the stalker who had followed Phil and Craig and Dae to Lexi and who had run Melissa off the road because she’d been in Lexi’s car. He’d killed a few people trying to get to Lexi and her sister, Cat—including the band’s irascible manager, Nigel. Even being in the hospital and cut off from everything, she couldn’t help miss the fact that Phil and his friends were still in pain over their manager’s death. Nor how guilty they all felt leading the stalker to Lexi’s door.
‘Is there someone else who can help?’ she asked, trying to get his mind away from his loss and guilt.
He nodded. ‘I’ll ask Karl to talk to the police.’
‘Karl? He’s Bev’s husband?’ she asked, still trying to get her mind around all the people she apparently knew. ‘Isn’t he the farm manager at Storm Haven?’
‘Yes. He’s also ex-military and has lived in the area on and off all his life. He’ll know the best person to deal with to get you extra security. I’m not going to let another arsehole reporter get in here and upset you like this.’
‘I don’t think it was a reporter.’
‘You said he wanted to ask you questions? Sounds like a reporter to me.’
‘But he wanted to take me out of here.’
‘Reporters say all sorts of things to scare or trick people into telling them things. You were the one who taught us that.’
‘I did?’
He nodded. ‘You always made certain we could keep our cool. You looked after us. You looked after me.’ He took her hand, pressed his lips to her knuckles. ‘I’m so sorry I haven’t done a good enough job of looking after you lately.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Yes. It is.’
Their eyes met.
Her breath caught in her chest as she stared back at him. He had beautiful eyes—even tormented over some perceived failure like now, they were beautiful. She’d noticed that when she’d woken—honey-brown with flame-like flecks in them. They glowed under the harsh lights of the room. They pulled at her. She leaned forward a little, her hands reaching up to cup his face. It felt so right to want to hold him and kiss him better until he smiled at her like he … like he did …
Pain spiked in her head and she grasped at her temples.
‘Mel?’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You don’t look okay. I’ll call the doctor.’
‘No!’ She grabbed his hand to stop him. ‘I’m fine. It was just … I think maybe I had a memory but it rushed away before I could grasp at it and …’ She rubbed her head, her hands shaking now. ‘It’s j-just a l-little p-painful. That’s all. I’ll b … b … be f … f … fine.’ Her teeth chattered over the words and there was a sudden tightness in her chest, the fist of something horrid and acrid in her throat.
