Read Online Nightshine: A Novel of the Kyndred by Lynn Viehl - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynn Viehl
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downtown. I hope you find your friends.”
“So do I.” Drew smiled a little. “What gave me away?”
“Something only an old shoemaker like me would notice.” The old man nodded at the deck. “No FBI agent wears green sneakers, son.”
No drug, treatment, or therapy had ever succeeded in completely relieving the pain caused by Samuel Taske’s deteriorating spine. He had spent years learning how to rest through meditation and napping for an hour or two, usually in an upright position in one of his custom-built ergonomic chairs. To wake from a deep, satisfying sleep and find himself flat on his back in a real bed was not only a novelty but something of a precious gift.
One he would begin paying for immediately, he thought as he lay as still as possible. As soon as he moved he would likely be in agony. At least Morehouse would arrive shortly with his morning tea and paper, and after administering his injection he would help him get up and into the whirlpool. . . .
Two fingers pressed against a bone in his wrist while a warm hand settled on his brow. None of them belonged to his house manager.
“No fever, no rash, no arrhythmias,” a woman murmured. “So why don’t you wake up, mío ?”
“It usually requires a pot of tea and the Wall Street Journal .” He looked up at Charlotte Marena’s face. Beyond her he could see bright colors and beautiful furnishings. “Hello again.”
“Hey.” Her smile lit up her tired face. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Puzzled.” Taske turned his head to the right and left to take in as much as he could, and made another discovery as he felt the smoothness of the linen pillowcase against his cheek. “Someone shaved off my beard.”
She nodded. “Wasn’t me.”
He didn’t see any medical equipment around the bed. “We’re not at a hospital, are we?”
“I don’t know where we are, Sam,” Charlotte admitted. “I was kind of hoping that you did.”
“I’ll have to disappoint you.” Luxurious and unique as it was, he didn’t recognize the room. “How did we come to be here?”
“The last thing I remember was passing out in the back of my rig.” She straightened. “Yesterday I woke up here with you. That’s all I know.”
“Yesterday.” He frowned. “I’ve been unconscious that long?”
“At least a day.” She made a helpless gesture. “Maybe two or three, or even a week.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, and then subsided.
“But you woke before me.” A vague memory of Charlotte’s urgent voice came back to him, and without thinking he reached across his abdomen to touch the wound in his side.
“It’s okay. It’s already healed.” She pulled down the sheet covering him to expose the unmarked skin over his ribs. “The stitches I put in popped out during the night. There isn’t even a scar. Maybe you can explain that to me?”
“I’ll try.” Taske had not enjoyed such a rapid recovery from a serious wound in years, but that was not the only revelation that stunned him. When he had moved, he had felt nothing.
“Problem?”
He frowned as he carefully drew his arm back and then moved his legs just enough to shift the lower half of his spine. “I don’t feel anything.”
Charlotte turned and touched his thigh. “You can’t feel my hand?”
“No, I have feeling in my legs.” Still not trusting his body, he bent his arm to prop his weight on his elbow and roll onto his side. His muscles felt stiff, but the searing coil of nerves around his spine didn’t offer even the slightest twinge. “Charlotte.” He stared at her. “I need you to tell me precisely what happened to me.”
“When I woke up yesterday I found you in shock from the blood loss. You were left here bleeding from a reopened wound.” She ducked her head. “Your heart stopped, and I had to perform CPR, but I got you back. I had to give you a vein-to-vein blood transfusion. Fortunately we have the same type. I’m also tested regularly
“So do I.” Drew smiled a little. “What gave me away?”
“Something only an old shoemaker like me would notice.” The old man nodded at the deck. “No FBI agent wears green sneakers, son.”
No drug, treatment, or therapy had ever succeeded in completely relieving the pain caused by Samuel Taske’s deteriorating spine. He had spent years learning how to rest through meditation and napping for an hour or two, usually in an upright position in one of his custom-built ergonomic chairs. To wake from a deep, satisfying sleep and find himself flat on his back in a real bed was not only a novelty but something of a precious gift.
One he would begin paying for immediately, he thought as he lay as still as possible. As soon as he moved he would likely be in agony. At least Morehouse would arrive shortly with his morning tea and paper, and after administering his injection he would help him get up and into the whirlpool. . . .
Two fingers pressed against a bone in his wrist while a warm hand settled on his brow. None of them belonged to his house manager.
“No fever, no rash, no arrhythmias,” a woman murmured. “So why don’t you wake up, mío ?”
“It usually requires a pot of tea and the Wall Street Journal .” He looked up at Charlotte Marena’s face. Beyond her he could see bright colors and beautiful furnishings. “Hello again.”
“Hey.” Her smile lit up her tired face. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”
“Puzzled.” Taske turned his head to the right and left to take in as much as he could, and made another discovery as he felt the smoothness of the linen pillowcase against his cheek. “Someone shaved off my beard.”
She nodded. “Wasn’t me.”
He didn’t see any medical equipment around the bed. “We’re not at a hospital, are we?”
“I don’t know where we are, Sam,” Charlotte admitted. “I was kind of hoping that you did.”
“I’ll have to disappoint you.” Luxurious and unique as it was, he didn’t recognize the room. “How did we come to be here?”
“The last thing I remember was passing out in the back of my rig.” She straightened. “Yesterday I woke up here with you. That’s all I know.”
“Yesterday.” He frowned. “I’ve been unconscious that long?”
“At least a day.” She made a helpless gesture. “Maybe two or three, or even a week.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, and then subsided.
“But you woke before me.” A vague memory of Charlotte’s urgent voice came back to him, and without thinking he reached across his abdomen to touch the wound in his side.
“It’s okay. It’s already healed.” She pulled down the sheet covering him to expose the unmarked skin over his ribs. “The stitches I put in popped out during the night. There isn’t even a scar. Maybe you can explain that to me?”
“I’ll try.” Taske had not enjoyed such a rapid recovery from a serious wound in years, but that was not the only revelation that stunned him. When he had moved, he had felt nothing.
“Problem?”
He frowned as he carefully drew his arm back and then moved his legs just enough to shift the lower half of his spine. “I don’t feel anything.”
Charlotte turned and touched his thigh. “You can’t feel my hand?”
“No, I have feeling in my legs.” Still not trusting his body, he bent his arm to prop his weight on his elbow and roll onto his side. His muscles felt stiff, but the searing coil of nerves around his spine didn’t offer even the slightest twinge. “Charlotte.” He stared at her. “I need you to tell me precisely what happened to me.”
“When I woke up yesterday I found you in shock from the blood loss. You were left here bleeding from a reopened wound.” She ducked her head. “Your heart stopped, and I had to perform CPR, but I got you back. I had to give you a vein-to-vein blood transfusion. Fortunately we have the same type. I’m also tested regularly
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