Fable of the Immortals

By Megan E. Vaughn

Fable is Skelly is an immortal trapped in the body of a sixteen year old girl. Her former mistress, a goddess in search of power, hunts her through the human world. Riley Carter has been tasked with protecting Fable from her past. However, this teenage boy finds his calling in rescuing people from the supernatural world and now Fable has been dragged along for the ride.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FSF Publications
• Release date: Nov 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781950532032

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FSF Publications

Copyright © 2021 by Megan Vaughn

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by FSF Publications.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author first.

Cover art and design by Scott P. Doc Vaughn

e-Book ISBN: 978-1-950532-03-2

Print ISBN: 978-1-950532-02-5

Manufactured in the United States of America.

FIRST Edition

First US Printing: 2021

www.fivesmilingfish.com

To you reading this:

Chances are you were rummaging through your grandparent’s closet or shopping at a swap meet when you found this book. That, or you are a rotten thief and I hope you get your comeuppance in whatever afterlife you believe in, you bastard.

That having been said, allow me to first declare that the book you are currently reading and the volumes which follow chronicle what will be my last years on earth. That’s right. You’re reading a book by a now-dead person. Get over it.

Second, because these are my last memories and since I used the energy to write some of this stuff down, I’d appreciate it if you’d at least try to read it before tossing this book back into whatever shoebox you found it in. I don’t know if in the future reading books has been deemed uncool, but I’m sure if you’re spending your afternoon cracking the covers on old journals, you probably don’t have much of a social life anyway. I mean that in solidarity, not judgement.

Third, what you are about to read is true, with a little artistic license thrown in here and there for drama’s sake. I am a storyteller, after all. I know you probably don’t believe in immortals, magic, or fairy tales. That’s fine. Not all of those things need your belief in order to exist. Not everything is about you, you know. One of the reasons why I am writing this down is because sometimes you need people to question their reality just a little bit. Not everything requires a whole hearted belief, but just a question.

The final reason I am writing this is because of Riley Carter. Understand that I hate him, but years from now there will be a moment when he tries to convince his annoying brats of his adventures (because I guarantee he will have kids when he grows up). They won’t believe him. What modern kid wouldn’t think their parent wasn’t just pulling their leg? Here it is, future mini-Carters. A book to back-up your dad’s crazy stories. Also, if he did something stupid like name one of you after me, I deeply apologize.

Part One: Once Upon a Time:

Being My First Encounter with the Irritatingly Heroic Riley Carter

When the Maya Creators made the world and the animals, they quickly became disheartened because there was no one around to admire their work. Therefore, they decided to make Man.

The first prototypes were crude mud people, too dimwitted to talk or take care of themselves. The Creators decided they wanted Man to be able to verbally praise them, so they tried again, this time creating Man out of sticks. This slightly smarter species possessed an intense cruelty. The animals rebelled against the stick men, drowning them in sap until they melded into a new animal - monkeys.

At last, a mountain cat, a coyote, a crow, and a parrot went to the Creators and suggested that they try making Man from maize as a way to grant brains. The Creators mashed up enough corn meal to make four men and four women, exactly what they always wanted in human beings. The First Fathers and First Mothers were grateful, intelligent, and perfect. The Creators then worried that Man would grow more powerful than them. They used a mist to make certain Man could not see as clearly, but still believe in self-intelligence.

And that was the start of humans thinking they were smart, but really being dumb.

Peoria, Arizona

December 20, 2012

The ending credits rolled and the Saturday crowd filed from the screening room. I stayed, waiting for the names and various jobs to finish dancing from the camera lens behind me. I muttered the information under my breath, wanting to see which names held power.

Jerry Banner, human. Kasey Swartz, human. Oh, Joe Wentz. I felt a little dip in my stomach and said the name a second time to double-check. Joe Wentz. My stomach bottomed out once again and I nodded with reassurance. What is your job, Joe? I caught his occupation before his name disappeared to the top of the screen. Best boy? You can’t be very powerful or you’d have a better job.

A disembodied woman’s voice replied in a hushed tone, Joe Wentz is an elemental. Earth.

As the last of the credits rolled and the pop song faded, I rose out of my seat. My feet stuck to the floor as I walked from the row. And he’s working on an apocalyptic picture? Lame.

You’re the one watching it, the woman’s voice scoffed.

The voice went silent as I passed a pair of teenagers waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a trash bin and brooms.

Have a good day, one with severe acne said to me with the sarcastic cheerfulness typical of a thankless job, a new duties and a lack of keenness in his role.

See you on Tuesday, the second teen told me. I recognized him as one of the higher-ups on the food chain, probably in charge of training the new recruit.

I grunted at him and kept walking. As I was almost out the door, I heard the trainer whisper to the pizza-face newbie, That’s the one I was telling you about. She’s in here about three days a week. Sometimes she comes and sees like four movies in a row. She’s always alone.

She’s kinda hot. Does she go to our school? Pizza Face asked hopefully.

I shuddered at the thought before escaping out to the lobby.

An elderly Latino couple stood near the concession stand. My stomach bottomed out once again. They watched me. She was petite and round, not fat, just carrying a plumpness in her face and calves, to give her the friendly appearance of a grandma. I almost wanted to ask her for a piece of hard candy. The half-pinned bun atop her head allowed long silver strands to rest against her loose-fitting yellow dress.

The man with her noticed me watching and offered a sharp look. The age showing in his wrinkled face did not affect his imposing posture. He wore brown slacks and a white shirt. A beaded necklace sat close to his throat. Setting his arm across the woman’s shoulders, they turned away from me.

Xmucane and Xpiyacoc, the voice explained from my pocket, sensing the old couple’s presence.

Yeah, I know. I wondered what business a pair of Mayan creation gods had at a movie theatre in Arizona, but kept my curiosity to myself.

You going to go talk to them? the voice asked as her subtle way of saying, You should go talk to them.

Nope. None of my business. And they were nice enough to leave me alone. I think I’ll respect that decision. Pivoting around toward the exit, I sensed the annoyance of the voice and added a quick, Whatever you have to say, keep it to yourself. I just want to get Phil and go home. There’s an ‘Alf’ marathon on tonight on that retro TV channel.

Yes, because the cat-eating alien puppet is so much more important than finding out why Meso-American gods are hanging out in the same city you live in, the voice pestered.

Hey, hey! Cat eating alien puppet with his own talk show. You’re always saying I should take more stock in contemporary culture.

Alf is not contemporary.

I stepped out of the glass door of the theatre. People pushed by, paying me no notice. I stuffed the used ticket stub into a collection within my pocket and my gray eyes searched the crowd. People of all shapes, sizes, and colors stood between me and what I was looking for. They rushed by, nothing but an unimportant blur. At last, I focused in on the scene of a wolf-like animal contentedly being petted by a ten-year-old girl and her teenage brother.

I walked over, not bothering to hide the scowl on my face. There you are, I breathed to the dog. He answered with a cheerful mouthful of teeth.

Eying the pair giving my furry friend oodles of attention, I thought, Dumb kids. Who just starts petting an unknown dog?

The teenager was rubbing his hand along Phil’s coat, murmuring, Good boy.

The girl mimicked in a louder, less soothing voice. You are a good boy, aren’t you? Yes. Good boy.

With a roll of my eyes at the animal, I grumbled, You’re loving this aren’t you, you attention whore. In response, Phil pressed his backside against the teenager’s hand to insist further petting.

Your dog? the teenager asked, standing up to his full six feet in height.

I started to list his traits in my mind. He was good looking. Not film heartthrob handsome but more like the cute best friend the heroine usually ends up with. His smile was a little goofy and took up the majority of his jaw line. He kept his hair fairly short still it waved and curled slightly against his scalp. His shoulders were broad, contrasting the remainder of his lean form.

For a brief moment, I caught his brown eyes and felt a startlingly familiar sense of safety. I blinked the thought away as I realized he studied me as well.

After a moment of awkward silence on his part, the teen continued, pointing to my dog. What kind is he? Husky?

I shrugged taking a leash from my jacket pocket. He’s never told me. The boy smiled at my joke. I didn’t smile back. I didn’t like the feeling I had; a funny dizziness that caused me to sway a little. I knew what it meant.

What’s his name? the girl asked me as she patted the beast on the head. Her short cut ponytail and a muddy pair of jeans vanished into the gray and red fur as she embraced him.

Philos, uh, Phil, I stated as I gently wrapped the red leash around his furry neck. And you’re lucky. He doesn't usually take to strangers, especially anyone over your age. The teenaged boy gave an interested look at my pleasant tone to his sister contrasting the short, curt way I addressed him.

The little girl wrapped her arms around the thick neck a second time, burying her face. The dog took the embrace with a patient, but annoyed expression. Hello, Phil, she said sweetly, I’m Lexi Carter. Pulling back from him, she pointed to the teenager. This is my brother, Riley.

The brother stuck his hand out to me. Nice to meet you. I stared at the hand as if it were a bear trap. He dropped the hand and moved to his sister, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Taking her gently by the ponytail, he told her, C’mon. Time to go home.

She reluctantly pulled herself away from Phil. As they trudged toward the parking lot, Lexi turned every few steps to give me a mournful wave, hoping that I would call her back to let her play with Phil a little longer.

The woman’s voice spoke again, keeping her volume just above a whisper. Philos liked that boy. How often does that happen?

He liked the little girl, I corrected not wanting to hear whatever the voice had to say. I heard the voice grumble and I gave in swiftly. Fine. What do you see?

The voice became a little distant, trance-like. The Council has a message to give, which will greatly affect the way you live.

I don’t want to hear it. I stepped away from the movie theatre doors. I could still see Riley and Lexi Carter who waited to cross through the traffic at the edge of the parking lot. Phil followed without me having to tug on his leash, but I heard him let out a little whimper.

No, I warned to the dog. We are not going over there. We are going this way and we won’t have anything else to do with those two—

Sulfur burnt my nostrils as I maneuvered through ticket lines and kissing couples. A scream from someone unnoticed made me turn. A large hand clamped down over my mouth and a second person yelled. Thick fingers, sticky with berries, engulfed my nose and the sweet jam scent mixed with rotten eggs and onions. My eyes burned. Dropping Phil’s leash, the dog turned to my captor and growled.

The person pulled me up against a wide chest, the faint heartbeat moving rapidly within. My whole body burned as the unknown arm kept me in place. Cool steel touched my throat and Phil’s growls turned to wild barking. He lunged for my assailant, but the blade’s tip pressed a little closer to my jugular vein. The knife radiated with the December chill. Phil still moved. I waved a hand for him to stand down. I needed to know who this was before he acted.

The crowd scattered while a theatre guard came barreling out of the lobby. He poised his handgun between his palms with unease.

A siren. A car door slammed. My assailant turned to see who had come to join the fun. Over the tops of the smelly fingers, I spotted a familiar police officer moving slowly near the scene, pausing once to speak into the radio on his shoulder. His gun stayed in his holster with his hand hovering a few inches over it. He moved closer to the situation with labored steps.

Miss Skelly, I should have known, I heard the cop mutter. Eyeing my captor, he started to speak the usual script to fight hostility. I wished I could wave him away as I did my dog.

The unbearable burning took over my skin. Focus. I needed to focus. I stared at the people watching with horrified expressions. Some had taken cover behind cement columns or huddled back near the ticket window. Mothers grabbed their children close to them and men gave me lost expressions. Some wielded phones in order to record the moment.

The man holding me slid the point of his weapon until I felt the surface of my skin break. The pinch ran through me like fire and I closed my eyes tightly to drown out the pain with any thought that would come to my mind. For some reason, the first thing to pop into my head was lawn gnomes on plastic toadstools.

The sulfur smelling man leaned his mouth close to my ear, his tongue grazing my earring as he whispered, How are you, girly?

I knew him. I knew his voice. Baby stealer! Wanting to look up at him and glare, I tried to twist in his grip, but he only pressed the blade in further against my neck.

You’re needed. His teeth grazed my ear.

The words damaged my calm. Struggling became easier as my heartbeat sped up. Trying to scream out in protest, my words vanished into his palm as Ouf! Sdop id!

Surprisingly, he did stop. His hand fell from my mouth, but his dagger stayed in place at my throat. I could sense the cop and the security guard still trying to coax him away, but I was too busy deciding what had distracted my captor.

He stared at the little girl who had just given Phil so much attention. Riley and Lexi Carter had returned to the commotion. He held his sister’s hand protectively as they appeared to be silently rooting for the two men with guns.

The cop pulled out his sidearm slowly and I noticed again that the man was not making demands. Step away. Sir, did you hear me? I will shoot.

My captor, at last, noticed the cop as well. He made a noise, something between a thoughtful huh and an annoyed grumble. Taking enough time to slice the blade against my neck, he ran into the shadows between two storefronts. I clutched the spot, heat rising against the wound. I counted to ten, taking deep breaths until my heart no longer echoed in the ear he’d nearly bit.

The men with guns chased after him. Phil’s barking started once more, ready to join in the chase but I ordered him to stay.

The group of bystanders relaxed, quickly moving to their cars. No one wants to be an official witness in a police report.

My fingers felt for my wound, already wet with crimson. I flipped up the collar on my shirt and pressed it against the cut.

Riley Carter and his sister ran forward from the mass of people, arriving at my side in time to notice the blood on my tan skin. My hand pressed at my collar harder and, on instinct, I insisted, It’s nothing. The warm trickle of red started to seep through the fabric and my fingers.

The teenager dug through his pockets frantically. Where’s my cell phone? he asked the little girl beside him. The child stared at my wound with a mixture of fascination and disgust. He repeated a little more urgently, Lexi! My phone?

You left it at home, she finally murmured in a daze. You said you wouldn’t need it in the movie.

After muttering a curse word low enough that his sister would not hear, the teenager shouted to the crowd, Someone call 911!

You a boy scout or something? I grumbled as I felt my palm growing slick with blood. I’m fine. I just need a band-aid.

He moved at me and Phil barked. I backed away when he tried to pull on my collar. You’re losing a lot of blood. You need a hospital.

He was right. I was feeling faint. The cut deeper than I’d thought and it would be a good half an hour to an hour before it healed itself. I thought of being splayed out in front of the cinema to be stared at by the teenage staff made my stomach twitch. Looking to the boy with a grunt, I said, Fine then. You take me.

The police officer returned to us, out of breath. He was in his early forties. I knew his hair had grayed early, a fact he tried to hide with an at-home dye job. Little streaks of silver were visible at the scalp.

Officer Young, I greeted in a deadpan tone.

Mr. Young! Riley Carter rushed out at the same moment.

Inwardly, I groaned at the realization that my new annoyances, the Carters, knew one of my common annoyances, Officer Young. Ignoring the new discovery, I applied a little more pressure to my throat.

He vanished, Officer Young stated, eying me suspiciously. I knew what he meant by those words; literally vanished into thin air leaving behind only the stench of sulfur. I’m going to need you to fill out a report on this one, Miss Skelly.

Mr. Young, she needs an ambulance, Riley Carter insisted.

Right. I need a doctor, I answered smugly, and this nice young man is offering to take me. If you don’t mind, we will be on our way, Officer Young.

The policeman shook his head and stepped between me and the Carter kids. It’s okay, Riley. I can take care of her. You two run home. Tell your dad I said hi. As he tried to usher me away, a sudden change washed over his face. His body relaxed, yet moved in short, jerky ways. On second thought, why don’t you take her? I have paperwork, anyway.

My eyes sought his. Officer Young? I whispered, Officer Young, is that you in there?

The eyes of the policeman met mine and I saw a hint of gold. Then, it vanished. Regular brown human pupils came into focus. I— What was I—

Without another thought and with my arm going tired from pressing against my neck, I started to move away from the cop. You heard the man, let’s go.

Riley Carter seemed concerned. Still, he ushered us across the parking lot at a jog. He stayed close behind him as if I were about to fall over. Stealing a last look at the policeman, I noticed the crease in Young’s brow. Worry for the two kids. Still, I gave him a quick smirk. At least there would be no police report today.

The little girl took Phil’s leash for me and waved to the parking lot. Riley’s car is the old jeep. It doesn’t look like it runs, but it does. Obviously, she was thrilled at getting to spend extra time with my dog and did not completely grasp the concept of a fatal cut to the jugular vein.

Swinging a little on the balls of my feet, the blood still draining from me, I realized what I was doing. I was climbing into a strange boy’s car. I was allowing my dog to hop in the backseat with his little sister. I was pretending that I needed a doctor. It was too much like the dilemmas I used to get into long ago and had managed to avoid recently.

I used the time it took Riley to walk around the vehicle to hiss, What happened to Officer Young back there?

The voice in my pocket whined, I don’t know. Fable, someone really wants you in this car and they were willing to overshadow the police in order to see it through.

It’ll be fine. I’ll ditch him at the hospital. Don’t worry. I wished for a more confident tone.

Lexi hadn’t lied. The vehicle was historic. Riley Carter drove an army jeep, possibly from the 1970s, and not necessarily American, outfitted with a hard roof from a completely different car. No doubt the new roof protected against the summer heat. I wrinkled my nose at where the faded khaki green met the dirty eggshell white of the mismatched pieces.

With my disapproval established, I buckled the seatbelt. The twist in my stomach turned into full fish flops. Why did someone want me in that jeep with that boy and girl?

Feeling the harness rub at my wound painfully, I asked, Are you sure about this? Maybe it’s not too late to call the ambulance? Or a bus! I took the bus to get here.

Riley Carter checked Lexi’s seatbelt and then climbed into the driver’s seat. I’m going to drive you. First of all, you couldn’t have taken the bus, he replied, taking only seconds to check his mirrors and buckled his own belt.

How do you know? I responded firmly. I could not help a gasp in pain as a breeze kissed the cut on my neck.

Jerking a thumb back at Phil, Riley explained, No dogs on the bus.

I also glanced back at Phil who tilted his head as if to say, Who me? Turning back to Riley Carter, I went on, He could be my therapy dog. What’s second of all?

Huh? Riley stayed focused on the road as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. Closest hospital to here must be Sunbird, he told himself, switching on the turn signal.

You said first of all. If there was a first reason then there should be more. I’m being logical. Through my explanation, I realized that the blood had begun to flow down my shoulder. The trickle of damp bonded my shirt to my skin.

You’re hurt. Rest up. Why didn’t Young give us an escort? He was acting kinda weird back there. He accelerated as soon as his little jeep was up the freeway ramp. Merging into traffic, he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. His face was a mixture of concern and uncertainness. He didn’t know why he was compelled to help me. Finally, he concluded, I’m doing my good deed for the day.

The phrase made me snort. Good deed. I removed my hand from the cut for a brief moment to inspect the thick layer of red outlining my fingerprints. The fish in my stomach flopped harder. I couldn’t remember the last time I had lost so much blood. I hoped I made it to where I wanted to be before I passed out. I started to rant in order to keep myself conscious, What sort of responsible law enforcer is Officer Young anyway? He just let me go with a complete stranger! You could be a psycho killer.

Officer Young knows my dad, Lexi explained from the backseat. I had almost forgotten she was back there.

That doesn’t mean anything. He’s a cop. He knows lots of psycho killers. I put my hand back over my neck and winced.

Would I take my little sister with me to pick up victims? Riley Carter reasoned, a little amazed that we were having such a conversation at such a time. He glanced over, looking at my face as it paled. The road in front of me spun and I set a hand against the dashboard to steady the dizzy feeling. Woah. Stay with me. We’re almost there.

That’s such a cliché line. I closed my eyes.

I heard him try not to laugh. Okay. Just talk to me then. What’s your name?

Opening my eyes just long enough to glare at him, I said, None of your damn business.

Riley replied, Okay, fine. Young called you Miss Skelly. I’ll just call you that. So, Miss Skelly, do you go to school around here?

For the love of Pete, whoever Pete was! He seriously asked me that? And while I was losing more blood every second? And what was with the constant Miss Skelly thing? He was just lucky I didn’t have enough energy to get angry at him.

Miss Skelly? He persisted, Are you okay, Miss Skelly?

Yes! I’m frickin’ fine! I tried to yell, but my voice came out weak, And my name is Fable, okay.

Fable? Lexi squeaked, sounding ready to burst into a laughter fit.

Yes. Fable Skelly.

Well that’s. . . cool. . . Riley managed to say without further verbal comment. His brain must have overloaded with questions and puns.

I opened my eyes once more. The hospital came into sight and the car exited the freeway. The reds, yellows, greens, and other colors of the vehicles began to mesh together in a blur. I gave out a groan and rested my head in my hand. Everything in my mind was a jumble.

Lexi finally noticed my agony. She doesn’t look good.

Crap. The driver of the car examined my pained look. Fable, we really are almost there. Don’t die in the car. It’s going to be fine.

I can’t die, I muttered with exasperation. I’m immortal. Why had I said that? Surely they thought I was joking, but I didn’t hear any laughter. I waited for a response. My vision faded as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

The jeep bumped, going over the curb of the parking lot entrance. I heard Lexi squeak, Riley, her neck is bleeding a lot.

Everything stopped moving and the engine shut off. Her brother leapt from his side of the car, almost forgetting to put it in park. He ran to the passenger’s side. In under two seconds he had unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed my dark hair out of the way to look at the rust color drying into my shirt.

It’s just a scratch, I breathed.

Scratch! he exclaimed. You’re lucky you’re not dead! Why didn’t you let us call an ambulance? His labored breathing brushed my neck and I winced again.

They’re for wusses? It was more of a suggestion than a reason. Pulling myself up out of the car, I felt Riley Carter take a hold of my arms, ready to keep me upright at a moment’s notice. His touch felt warm and I recoiled at a painful sensation.

The burning in my arms subsided after I’d pushed him off. My boots carried me as swiftly as I could manage toward the emergency room entrance.

As I passed through the automatic glass doors, I called out, I don’t like being touched!

The smell of bleach and modern medicine hit my senses. Riley Carter seemed unconcerned with Philos who waited outside the doors. He sat his sister down in the blindingly white lounge. Don’t move from this spot, Lexi, he told her sternly.

A nurse in disgustingly cutesy scrubs decorated approached the round, beige desk adjacent to the waiting room. Riley headed for her and I attempted to lose him.

I marched by the check-in desk, focusing on the scrubs of the nurse at the desk. Smiling cartoon syringes faded in and out of my vision. Staying on the ground floor, I moved with purpose around gurneys and nurses. Riley Carter chased after me, protesting as I swayed back and forth. Lexi ran after him, determined not to be left behind.

Blood still oozed down my neck, drying on my shoulder and leaving a sticky goo. We went to an elevator, but I don’t remember if I pressed the button or if I told the boy to do so. I remembered the doors opening on the thirteenth floor. I could see my destination at the end of a hallway. As I exited the lift, my legs wobbled and went out from under me. Too much blood on my shirt; not enough in my veins.

Somebody help! he yelled. The boy swooped to my side and practically caught me. Lean on me. He swung my arm over his neck and pressed himself against me to keep me upright.

What part of I don’t like being touched don’t you get? I weakly growled attempting to push off the boy. The skin on my arm burned at the feel of his neck. My legs buckled and I sunk a little further to the floor.

Riley Carter pulled me up, wrapping one arm around my back. You rather I get a wheelchair? he threatened. He hadn’t missed my avoidance of attention. Damn observant bastard. He tightened his grip on me. Where are we going?

End of the hall. Dr. Uriah Smith, I grumbled with defeat.

Uriah? Riley raised an eyebrow with wonder.

Oh and like Riley is such a normal name, I answered. Just get me into his office before someone notices.

We reached the correct door, Lexi scurrying after us exhilarated by the many sights and sounds. The little girl read the plaque on the office aloud, G268 Doctor Uriah Smith. Why doesn’t it say what type of doctor he is like it does on the other doors?

Slick crimson stayed behind on the brass knob as I turned it and entered the office. He doesn’t like advertising. I hurriedly attempted to close the door in their faces. Thanks and bye. Riley pushed his way in and Lexi followed. I huffed, You don’t need to be here.

The office was a good size with a light-colored desk surrounded by small cushioned chairs. The typical office paintings of random country roads and sail boats on calm seas hung on the baby blue walls. A man in a white lab coat sat behind the desk, your basic stereotypical doctor with thin-rimmed glasses and rapidly receding snowy hair.

Sitting across the desk was a worry-worn woman with a tissue at the corner of her eye. A child sat on a chair beside her, about five, swinging his legs back and forth energetically, enjoying the squeak the plastic made when he did so.

Fable. What now? I heard him grumble. With a sigh, he addressed his patient. Do you mind if they have a seat while we finish up? As the woman shook her head from behind the tissue, he motioned for the three of us to sit in the corner near a tall potted fern.

Riley glanced at me suspiciously. Come here a lot? I refused to answer. Instead, I focused on sinking into one of the chairs without falling over. They were a sickly green color, adding to my ill-feeling. Riley stayed standing, looking ready to jump out of his skin. Excuse me, Dr. Smith, but she needs medical attention like now.

Young man, I am with a patient; have a seat, Dr. Smith told Riley with a sigh, then turned back to the woman and child near his desk.

Riley grumbled then eyed me with a new thought in his head. Did you know that man who attacked you?

What are you? A cop? No. I don’t know. I lied.

But did you recognize him? Have you ever seen him before? He rested his arm on the back of his sister’s chair, as if he were trying to look like a Sam Spade.

I was fed-up with all of these questions. I was tired, in pain, and just wanted to be left alone. I crossed my arms in front of my chest. Why are you doing this?

Riley Carter let out a gruff exhale and glared at the doctor who continued quietly with his patient so we couldn’t hear.

Lexi wiggled in her chair and released loud, purposeful yawns. I quieted her, then shushed Riley. It was one thing for me to be rude, but the girl was too young for such disrespect. My body relaxed against the chair back, enjoying the feel of having a stable object beneath me. Riley Carter anxiously paced. My vision started to blink in and out again as the trickle of blood crept further under my blouse. My brain registered the conversation in the room like a dream.

Dr. Smith patiently stated, Mrs. Lathman, I assure you there is nothing wrong with Ennor.

But doctor. Are you sure? Did you run all the tests? The woman bawled like an upset dog.

Dr. Smith let out a long sigh. Yes, Mrs. Lathman. Ennor is a perfectly healthy little boy. I see no signs of any physical traits which could suggest otherwise and that includes a tai—

I passed out around that point. The last thing I noticed was the teenager, Riley Carter, rushing to my side like the medic in a war movie.

Sunbird Hospital

Phoenix, Arizona

December 20, 2012

When I opened my eyes, the examination table paper crinkled. Dr. Smith cleaned off my red-stained shoulder. My shirt had been removed and left carefully on a molded plastic chair alongside my jacket. My bra strap and along my left underarm was soaked through.

I ran my fingers over the cut which had already begun to heal. The skin was slowly puckering into a scar. As the doctor attached a square of gauze to the spot, more for show than practicality, he asked, Riley Carter, huh?

Annoyingly friendly, isn’t he? I held out my hand in a silent request for my shirt. I think he likes to play detective. At least I didn’t have to talk to him too much.

Dr. Smith passed me the ruined garment with his gloved hands. The smell of latex turned my stomach one more time. He’s waiting in my office. It’s a nice change for me to have a perfectly normal human in there.

I slowly pulled on my shirt, the shoulder damp with blood, grumbling curse words under my breath as I fumbled with the buttons. My body was still healing; still replenishing its blood supply. Can’t you make him go away?

I listened to the latex snap as the old man discarded the stained gloves. He said a man attacked you. Maybe if you told him why, he would go away. He sat at a computer across the room.

It’s none of his business just like it’s none of yours. I groaned as I rotated my shoulder and stretched out my neck. Can’t you say something to make him go away? Tell him I’m all better and you’re calling my mom to come get me.

Lying for you is not a part of our arrangement, he replied, logging out of the computer and turning to me. How are you on your medicine?

Fine. I hopped off the examination table, my weakened legs nearly failing me. Dr. Smith stole a glance at my crimson collar. Do you want me to find you a shirt or something?

Or something, I muttered, I’d rather not walk out of here wearing some lost and found bin Rush concert tee-shirt that probably belonged to a junkie.

I could see if we have any Arrowsmith, Dr. Smith suggested trying to suppress a chuckle at his own joke.

I moved with care to the door, turning the handle as I moved. I collided into Riley Carter’s pacing. Damn. You really are still here.

Lexi was curled up in a chair, pulling at her hair out of boredom. Riley held out his arms to help me up and I waved him away as if he were a fly.

Adjusting easily to my disdain of him, the teenager ignored my swatting and turned to Dr. Smith, How is she? Does she need stitches or anything?

She’s right as rain. It wasn’t as deep as it looked, the old man recited as if practiced. Maybe you could take her home.

I hate you, I answered