Page 8 of Death Bringer

“Sorry, no.” She patted his arm. “But thanks for asking.”

“Ella’s busy.” Vadim added and placed his hand in the small of her back to usher her along. He didn’t say anything else, but she sensed both his sudden alertness and a hint of his magical power wafting around.

“Keep it down, Morosov. You’re like a skunk marking his territory.”

“That guy wouldn’t pick up magic if it bit him in the face.”

“Don’t you mean pecked?”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know, and by the way, don’t call me Ella at work, okay?”

“As if I would dare.” His smile showed a lot of teeth.

Ms. Phelps stopped at the last door in the hallway. “Mr. Dailey is in here. I’ll ask the nurse to step out of the room, but she’ll be outside if you need her. If you require more urgent medical assistance, just press the red panic button.”

“Will do.” Ella went in first, nodding at the nurse as she passed her in the doorway. Brad Dailey was strapped to a gurney on the far side of the room. His face was bandaged like a mummy’s, and his terrified gaze darted around the space, fixing avidly on Ella as she approached.

She sat on the side of the bed and took his shaking hand in hers. A hint of residual Otherworld magic trickled through her senses. “Hey. I’m Ella Walsh, and this is Morosov. Can you try and tell us what’s wrong?”

His chest heaved and he started to struggle against his restraints, his hands turning into claws. Vadim came up beside her.

“It’s all right, Mr. Dailey. We just want to help you. Take a deep breath and tell us what’s wrong.”

Ella shivered as she felt Vadim push some kind of calming magic through her and into Brad. Whatever it was, it seemed to be having the right effect, as he slowly relaxed against the gurney and his breathing evened out.

“It wasn’t my face in the mirror. What the fuck happened? Who the fuck am I?”

“When you say it wasn’t your face, do you mean you saw someone else’s reflection in there with you?”

“No, it was just supposed to be me.”

Ella glanced at Vadim, who was listening intently.

“And it wasn’t your face.”

“No. That’s why I tried to pull it off.”

“You thought it was, maybe, a mask of some kind, a practical joke?” Vadim asked. “Did you get drunk last night?”

Brad nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I thought, that some of the guys had gotten into my room and stuck stuff on me to scare me, like, you know?”

“Medical students love their pranks.”

“But it wouldn’t come off.” Brad’s voice rose. “It was me, but it isn’t me!”

“Since you damaged your face so badly, it’s hard to tell what you looked like before this happened. Do you have any recent pictures of yourself?”

“Sure, on Facebook and my cell.”

“Would you object if we looked at them?”

“You can look as much as you like, but you won’t ever see me with brown eyes and black hair. I’m fucking blond like you.”

Ella checked out the thick black hair sticking out from the top of his head. It didn’t look dyed, either.

“Okay, so if we accept that you woke up this morning with someone else’s face, how do you think that happened?”

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