Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [737]
“What are you doing, Ms. Blake?”
“Getting dressed,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Look, I’d prefer help getting all the tubes and wires off me, but it is all coming off because I’m checking out.”
“I’ll get Doctor Cunningham.” She turned and walked out.
“You do that,” I said to the empty room. I got a death grip on the little wires that attached to the sticky pads and pulled. It felt like I’d pulled a foot worth of skin off with them, a sharp, grinding ache, like it would hurt to touch the skin. The high pitched scream of the machine let people know my heart was no longer going pitty-pat on the other end of the wires. The sound reminded me uncomfortably of the fire alarm, though it was much less obnoxious.
The pads had left large circular welts on my skin, but they were not nearly as big as they felt. The fact that the welts hurt enough to rise above all the other aches and pains lets you know how raw my skin felt.
Doctor Cunningham came through the door while I was still working on the tape that bound my hand to the IV board. He turned the screaming heart monitor off.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“Getting dressed.”
“Like hell you are.”
I looked up at his enraged face and just didn’t have any anger to throw back at him. I was too tired and too hurt to waste energy on anything but the process of getting up and getting out of this bed.
“I have to go, Doctor.” I kept picking at the tape and wasn’t making much progress. I needed a knife. “Where are my weapons?”
He ignored the question, and asked one of his own. “Where could you possibly need to go badly enough to climb out of this bed?”
“I need to get back to work.”
“The police can handle things for a few days, Ms. Blake.”
“There are people who will talk to me that won’t talk to the police.” I’d gotten an edge of tape up.
“Then your friends in the hallway can talk to them.” Doctor Cunningham got points for realizing that Edward and company were the kind of men that people who avoided the police might talk to.
“This particular person won’t talk to anyone but me.” I finally stopped picking at the tape. “Can you please get this off of me?”
He took a breath, to argue, I think, but what he said was, “I’ll help you check out if you let me show you something first.”
I must have looked as suspicious as I felt, but I nodded.
“I’ll be right back,” and he left the room. Everyone seemed to be doing that today. He was gone long enough that Edward came in to see what the holdup was. I lifted the taped arm, and he produced a switchblade from his pocket. The blade cut through the tape like paper. Edward always did take good care of his tools.
I was still left with having to peel the tape off my arm, and the IV itself had to come out, mustn’t forget that.
“If you want it fast, I’ll do it,” Edward said.
I nodded, and he ripped the tape off my arm along with the IV. “Ow!”
He smiled. “Sissy.”
“Sociopath.”
Doctor Cunningham came in carrying a large hand mirror. His gaze flicked to Edward and my now free arm. It was not a friendly look. “If you’ll step back for a moment, Mr. Forrester?”
“You’re the doctor,” Edward said, moving back to the foot of the bed.
“Nice of you to remember that,” Doctor Cunningham said. He held the mirror in front of my face.
I looked startled, eyes too wide and so dark they looked black. I’m naturally pale, but my skin was ghost-white, ethereal like flexible ivory. It was what made my eyes look even darker than normal, or maybe it was the bruise.
I’d known my face hurt, and I’d even known why. Being hit hard enough to slam into a wall should leave a mark.
The bruise went up to the edge of my cheek, just under the eye, and catty-corner down to my jaw line just under the ear. My skin was a rainbow of purple-black with a core of red skin with darker red scattered across it. It was one of those really deep bruises that probably hadn’t even shown much of a mark for the first