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I saw shapes, blurred with light moving around me. A sharp jab in my arm, a needle. A man’s face swam into view, blond, wire-framed glasses. His face slid back out of sight into a white-rimmed fog.

Gray spots slid like greasy streamers across my vision, and I felt myself sinking backwards, downwards, outwards.

A man’s voice, “We’re losing her!”

Darkness rolled over me taking the pain, and the light. A woman’s voice floated through the dark. “Let me try.” Then silence in the dark. There was no alien voice this time. There was nothing but the floating dark and me. Then there was just the dark.

42

I WOKE UP SMELLING sage incense. Sage for cleansing and ridding you of negativity, or so my teacher Marianne was fond of telling me when I complained about the smell. Sage incense always gave me a headache. Was I in Tennessee with Marianne? I didn’t remember going there. I opened my eyes to see where I was, and it was a hospital room. If you wake up in enough of them, you recognize the signs.

I lay there blinking into the light, happy to be awake. Happy to be alive. A woman came to stand by the bed. She was smiling. She had shoulder-length black hair, cut blunt around a strong face. Her eyes seemed too small for the rest of her face, but those eyes stared down at me like she knew things I didn’t, and they were good things or at least important ones. She was wearing something long and flowing, violet with a hint of red in the pattern.

I tried to talk, cleared my throat. The woman got a glass from the small bedside table, her many necklaces clinking as she moved. She bent the straw so I could drink. One of the necklaces was a pentagram.

“Not a nurse,” I said. My voice still sounded rough. She offered the water again, and I took it. I tried again, and this time my voice sounded more like me. “You’re not a nurse.”

She smiled, and the smile turned an ordinary face into something lovely, just as the burning intelligence in her eyes made her striking. “What was your first clue?” She had a soft rolling accent that I couldn’t place; Mexican, Spanish, but not.

“You’re too well dressed for one thing, and the pentagram.” I tried to point at the necklace, but my arm was taped to a board with an IV running into my skin. The hand was bandaged, and I remembered the corpse biting me. I finished the gesture with my right hand, which seemed unharmed. My left arm seemed to have a sign over it that said cut here, bite here, whatever here. I moved the fingers of my left hand to see if I could. I could. It didn’t even really hurt, just tight, as if the skin needed to stretch a little.

The woman was watching me with those eyes of hers. “I am Leonora Evans. I believe you’ve met my husband.”

“You’re Doctor Evans’ wife?”

She nodded.

“He mentioned you were a witch.”

She nodded again. “I arrived at the hospital in the . . . how do you say, nick of time, for you.” Her accent thickened when she said, how do you say.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

She sat down in the chair beside the bed, and I wondered how long she’d been sitting there, watching me. “They restarted your heart, but they couldn’t keep life in your body.”

I shook my head, and the beginnings of a headache were starting behind my eyes. “Can you put out the incense? Sage always gives me a headache.”

She didn’t question it, just got up and moved to one of those little folding tables on wheels that they have in hospitals. There was incense stuck in a small brazier, a long wooden wand, a small knife, and two candles burning. It was an altar, her altar, or a portable version of it.

“Don’t take this wrong, but why are you here and a nurse isn’t?”

She spoke with her back to me as she quenched the incense. “Because if the creature that attacked you tried to kill you a second time, the nurse would probably not even notice it was happening until it was too late.” She came and sat back down by the bed.

I stared at her. “I think the nurse would notice if a flesh-eating corpse came into the room.”

She smiled and it was patient, even condescending. “You and I both know