“Have you talked to Sam today?” he asked, his eyes sliding away from the TV toward me, then back again.
“Sure have. He’s still okay. Is there anything you want me to tell him?” I never wanted to sound too optimistic about where Sam was because he was hardly on vacation. He was trapped in hell and Logan knew everything wasn’t good, but I never wanted to make it sound like Sam was suffering either. I had a feeling Logan blamed himself for Sam’s entrapment. Well, himself and me.
“You’re all dirty. Were you in the orchard?” Logan asked, still watching the TV.
“Yes, training with Gemma. I’m going to go visit my mom in a few minutes. Want to come?”
“No,” he said quickly, shifting on the bed. He never wanted to come to the hospital with me. I never pushed it because I figured the place made him uncomfortable, but I always offered because he needed to know I wanted him around.
“Okay, then. Maybe we can go out for ice cream later? Or rent a movie?”
“You don’t have to be nice to me,” he said, looking at me and for the first time today, holding my gaze.
“I know that. I like you, Logan. I like hanging out with you.”
“You just want to look good with Sam.”
I let out a breath. “I don’t see Sam around here, do you? If I didn’t want to spend time with you, I wouldn’t, and he wouldn’t know anyway. This isn’t about Sam. This is about me and you.”
He nodded, his face losing the angry look. “I guess you aren’t as bad as I thought.”
“Of course I’m not.” I flipped my hair backward with a grin. “I’m fabulous.”
“You need a shower. You smell.”
I let my mouth drop open in mock surprise and stepped away from the bed. Then I leaned close and I hugged him, rubbing my arms up, down, and all around him.
“Nasty!” Logan said, pushing me away.
“Just a little sisterly love for you.” I laughed and pulled away. Logan was trying not to smile. “I gotta go. I’ll be back later and we’ll hang.”
His eyes went back to the TV, but as I left the room, he called a thank you behind me.
*
My feet felt as though they were weighed down with bricks. I lifted my knees higher and forced my leg muscles to move. When the hospital came into view, I pushed myself harder, increasing my pace until my lungs burned and sweat blurred my vision. At the edge of the parking lot, I slowed until I was walking. I refused to let myself double over to gasp for breath. Instead, I concentrated on taking deep, controlled breaths. By the time I reached the large sliding doors at the entrance, my heart rate was down and breathing came easily. I glanced at my watch. Forty minutes. It was good, but I wanted to be better. Since day two of Sam being gone, I had been parking Gran’s car several miles from the hospital every day and running the rest of the way. Every day my time got a little better.
The cool air of the hospital felt good against my heated skin as I entered and gave a small wave to the woman manning the information desk. She returned my wave, then went back to answering the phone. She knew I wouldn’t stop to chat anyway. I never did. She also finally stopped gaping at my sweaty appearance every time I walked in. I didn’t care either way.
I made my way up to my mother’s floor and let myself into her room. The curtain around her bed was left open today and I was greeted with the same sight that I always saw: Mom lying in a bed of white in a coma. There was no change. I wondered if there ever would be. The doctors said the swelling in her brain, from the fall she took, was gone and there was nothing medically keeping her from waking up. They said she’d make a full recovery. But as the days passed and Mom never opened her eyes, I saw them standing over her frowning, searching through her chart for something they might have missed.
I couldn’t tell them I knew the truth. I knew why she wasn’t waking up.
Beelzebub wouldn’t let her. I couldn’t prove it, of course, but I just knew he was holding some kind of power over her and her wellbeing. Who only knew what he did to her during the time he was posing as her “boyfriend” Henry.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, approaching the bed and adjusting the covers around her. It didn’t need done, but it was better than doing nothing. “How are you feeling today? You look good. Are you ready to wake up yet?”
The only response I got was the beeping of her monitors. I sighed and headed into the bathroom. The cold water felt good as I splashed it over my face and hands. I reached into my backpack and pulled out my face wash, using it to cleanse the morning of training away. I grabbed the hand towel at the sink to dry my face and hands, then hung it back where it belonged. Next, I reached into my backpack and pulled out a change of clothes. The ones I wore were damp with sweat and were covered in streaks of dirt from my time spent in the orchard. After I pulled on the blue-jean shorts and white tee, I brushed my hair back into a ponytail. Most of my hair was damp with sweat and needed washed, but for now, a ponytail would do. After I finished, I threw everything back in my backpack and headed out to sit with Mom. I talked to her for a few minutes as I always did, but soon grew tired of talking to myself. I settled back in the chair with a bottle of water (also from my bag) and closed my eyes.
Sam.
Heven. I couldn’t help but smile when his voice purred through my mind.
I’m at the hospital with Mom. No change.
I’m sorry.
At least she isn’t worse. You doing okay?
I’ve been trying to break down this force field that’s trapping me in here.
Any luck?
No. I felt the surge of his anger and disappointment as if they were my own. I also felt the echo of hunger pangs through my middle and the sting of a row of broken ribs at my side.
I swallowed back the despair that filled me. We’re still trying to find a way to get through the portal.
I don’t want you to come back here. I’ll find a way out.
But he wouldn’t. He knew it and I knew it. There was no way to break down the invisible barrier that Hecate used to trap him inside. He’d been trying for five days without any luck. I had an idea of how I could break down the force field—but I also had no idea if it would actually work. Even still, I didn’t know how to get through the portal into hell. How are your wounds?
Healing. Don’t worry about me. What about you?
I’m fine.
I feel the echo of soreness in your entire body. What’s going on?
I started running. My muscles are sore.