The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Thirteen, Part Three - Checks And Balances

I thought Ethan would be so upset by my disclosures that he would insist on driving me home. Surprisingly, he had the opposite reaction. I figured if we were going to spend time together, we might as well spend it usefully. So while the day was still relatively young, we decided a visit to the morgue was in order.

"Ok." Once we left the car Ethan looked up and down the quiet parking lot of Saint Cyprian Hospital. "How do we do this?"

"Uh, well..." I jammed my hands in my back pockets. "Find the nearest elevator and push the button that says 'morgue'?"

Ethan considered this. "Sounds good."

And away we went.

I could lie and say I wasn't nervous, but in reality I was. I didn't like hospitals and never had. As a teen, I was always afraid of getting hurt and winding up in the ER. From then I was sure it would it would only be a matter of time before they drew blood and figured me out. The Human would have me locked up and padded down, poking at my insides and scrambling my brains. Fortunately for me I was rarely ever sick and never broke a single bone. Being a foster kid made me tough, but being a Supernatural made me resilient.

The moment we stepped through Saint Cyprian's large, sliding glass doors, the smells of sickness and disinfectant were overpowering. Dressed in baggy gowns, and wheeling bags of fluid, patients trudged the corridors or were pushed in wheel chairs. Most of them were Human, non-Supernatural, sick and/or dying. Their relatives, or other hospital attendants, walked with them, speaking to the ill in low, soothing voices. It may have been comforting for the patients, but it wasn't for me. In fact, the whole scene made me feel rather glum... and nauseous.

Ethan's arm knocked into my shoulder. He swayed, turning greener by the second.

"Hey, are you ok?"

"No." He shook his head before emitting a nasty burp. "Not even a little."

"Grope me and bad things will happen--specifically to you." I threw his arm across my shoulder and we headed to the nearest elevator. I pressed the down button and we waited, patiently, for our ride.

"You know what?" Ethan sagged against the wall. "Maybe you should go without me. I-I don't think I can go in there with all those stiffs. Just the thought of them in there, all... dead--makes me wanna hurl!"

With violent gagging sounds, Ethan threw himself on the mercy of an abandoned mop bucket and hurled. The elevator came and I held it open, waiting patiently as he coughed and spit.

"Feeling better?"

He looked miserable. "I think I need a mint."

"And maybe some gum too. C'mon."

The elevator doors closed and I turned to see Ethan doubled over, his face sweaty and pale. Inspiration struck, and I pressed the elevator's stop button.

"Uh, Naomi, if you're coming onto me right now, I have to say this really isn't the way I imagined it. But I'm sure we can make it work..."

"Shut up. I figured out this trick a couple of weeks ago, and I think maybe it can help you too. Now be quiet and close your eyes." Ethan gave me a mistrustful look, but did as he was told. Biting my lip in concentration, I placed a hand on either side of his face and closed my eyes as well.

"Just relax," I said. "It won't hurt."

I may have felt Ethan's nausea, but I wasn't really sick, so I gave him some of that peace. Within my mind's eye tranquility and stillness coursed like a river of red energy, flowing from my mind into his. It was every good feeling I had inside me, every wonderful memory, every moment of love and happiness and peace and I imagined all of that transferring from my mind into his. Ethan sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, and I felt his entire body unwind, like a taut rope gone loose. Out of nowhere, he grabbed my hands by the wrists and yanked them away from his face.