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Justin slowly turned his glass on the bar, staring into its depths as if wishing it was a full bottle instead. “When was the dream?” he asked. I told him it was very early Thursday morning and his lips tightened. “Then if this curse is the obvious version, we would have recognized it by now. I imagine Edgar times the dreams a certain way; it’s not going to be a week’s advance warning. That means it’s already building.”
I did not bother to answer or even nod, but the lack of a response was enough of a confirmation. Frost shook his head slowly, not looking at me. “Why didn’t you say something sooner, Poe?”
“Because that’s not how I operate. You know that,” I said quietly, regretting not bringing it up. “I was barely dealing with it without having to say it out loud. I needed the time to come to terms with it to find the words.”
Liz and Justin seemed dubious, but Frost’s eyes met mine briefly and turned haunted. He nodded, understanding immediately, as I had known he would, that I was afraid of breaking down again. “Do you live alone?” Frost asked Liz.
She nodded. “Yes, but my cousin insisted I own a handgun and I know how to use it.”
“Still, you should consider staying with someone you trust. You’ll be safer with more than one person to listen for something,” Frost said. I frowned slightly, understanding that he felt Justin capable of taking care of himself but wondering why he had not given me instructions. Apparently he assumed I would just move in with him without discussing it. I planned on making my feelings about that quite clear later.
“You’re saying that at any time, one of us could be hurt or killed?” Justin said, his eyebrows creased.
Suddenly, an earsplittingcrackexploded through the bar and Justin crumpled over the bar, his drink flying over the other side. Screams erupted all around and people everywhere began to either panic or furiously seek out the shooter, who had made a serious mistake in picking a known cop bar. Seemingly before Justin had even hit the bar, Frost was standing behind me, shielding me, with his gun loaded in his right hand and checking Justin’s condition with his left, quickly examining the bullet wound, taking his pulse and touching his shoulder. “Justin!” he shouted. “Justin, can you hear me?”
Liz was standing, half watching the frantic, furious crowd around us and half checking out Justin as well. “I’ll help you get him outside. I have my car here, I’ll drive him to the hospital.”
“I should drive him,” Frost protested.
Liz shook her head firmly and I admired her calm, business-like mood. “No. You stay with Poe and meet me there. This isn’t a coincidence and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to leave her with me or make me go alone.”
Frost took another look at Justin, but only for a fraction of a second before nodding his consent. “Fine.”
“Give Liz your gun and I’ll help you move him,” I cut in. In a moment, Frost handed Liz the gun and went to Justin. I helped Frost turn him around and lift him into a fireman’s carry on Frost’s shoulder, then borrowed some of Liz’s business air as I parted the crowd for Frost. I opened the door and the wind howled in like a wall of ice slamming into us. I gritted my teeth and stood by, ready to offer help if he needed it, as Frost navigated the steps down from the bar.
“My car’s by the next lamppost to the right,” Liz shouted above the wind. We hurried to her little Jetta as sirens began to sound and two cop cars raced around a nearby corner towards the bar. Justin groaned weakly and I felt my legs and hands shaking as the past minute began to sink in. He had been shot.
Liz threw open the passenger side door and grabbed an emergency blanket from the trunk as Frost lowered Justin into the bucket seat. Feeling useless, I watched as Liz wrapped the blanket tightly around Justin’s chest where the wound was. That done, she slammed the door, handed Frost his gun, and darted around the car, shouting back to us as she got in, “I’ll take care of him.”
Within a few seconds, she had maneuvered out of the parking space and the Jetta raced down the street, taking a wild left turn towards the hospital. Frost took my hand and I ran with him back up the sidewalk to where a short line of motorcycles was parked. Frost led me to a jet-black one that looked far too fast for someone who drove like a lunatic. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said dryly.
He handed me a helmet, mounting the motorcycle quickly, as if he’d had it since he was sixteen. A strange part of my mind paused, despite the situation, to wonder if he’d gone ahead and sold his Viper. “Nope. I got sick of the rental. Now get on.”
I strapped on the helmet and got on behind him as he started the engine. It sounded fast too. “Hang on,” he said. I had half a second to wrap my arms around him before he revved the engine and jumped the curb, speeding down the sidewalk a short ways before taking to the street again. The bike lurched forward like some kind of demonic beast beneath us and I gritted my teeth uncomfortably at the way my body was pressed against him just to hang on. Frost took the same left Liz had at about ten over the speed limit through a red light, racing down the street like a bat out of Hell. I knew it would be useless to try and talk to him now, so I just held on and tried not to worry about Justin. I could not imagine what it would do to Frost if he didn’t make it.
Frost predictably parked on a crosswalk between parking spaces and we ran together into the hospital. At the front desk, Frost was directed to the ER, where Liz was waiting anxiously. When she saw us running down the hall, she seemed to relax slightly. “They just took him into surgery, but they don’t believe it’s too serious. A shoulder wound, they think. They need to be sure that nothing important was hit by the bullet, but the entrance and exit wounds were clean and should just need some stitches and narcotics.”
“That’s what I thought,” Frost said. I breathed a sigh of relief, then, slowly descending from panic mode, focused on trying to calm my rapid breathing and my quietly aching muscles. The last thing any of us needed right now was for my muscles to seize up again. “What do you mean, that’s what you thought? You could tell that?” I asked him.
Frost nodded. “Yeah, I saw that it was high enough to miss his organs and that the wound was clean. That’s why we didn’t wait for an ambulance. With him bleeding and the shooter still nearby I thought it more important to get him here as fast as possible.”
“We could still be waiting for an ambulance.”
Liz nodded. “Or we could be dead.”
----
Liz waited with us until Justin got out of surgery and we were told he was well out of danger. He had been given a substantial dose of morphine and we were told it would be best if he slept through the night. We could check on him tomorrow morning. As we walked back through the hospital, Liz mumbled quietly. “Good. I don’t want to see him on narcotics.”
I rolled my eyes, “Why?”
“Because he said my name a few times while he was unconscious,” she answered dryly. “I don’t really want to hear what he has to say to me when he’s high.”
I chuckled and noticed Frost trying to hold back a smirk.
In the parking lot, we parted ways with Liz and slowly tread through the deserted, icy lot towards Frost’s motorcycle. There were cars all around, but no sign of life even on the adjacent city street. It was very late and the night was black and overcast, threatening a frigid, life-sucking rain. Somewhere not far off, a raven croaked and I shivered. “So, how do cops deal with parking tickets?” I asked, trying to escape the grim mood of the place.
“Depends on what kind of cop you are,” Frost answered quietly, seeming to be taking in the setting as well. “I pay mine.”
