Page 72 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
It wasn’t the sort of place I’d normally frequent but I was desperate. For one thing, I was exhausted and, for another, Quentin Hightower was growing weaker by the second. His skin was clammy and he was shaking and shuddering with every step.
I drew in a deep breath and twisted the cold metal doorknob. As the door creaked open, we fell inside with He Who Guards at our heels. I groaned in relief; Quentin Hightower simply collapsed with a shuddering breath.
The waiting room was small, covered in vomit-green tiles and devoid of people. I eyed the desk in the corner and the closed door behind it, then marched up and shouted, ‘Hey! We need some help out here!’ My voice echoed so I tried again. ‘Hello? Is anyone there?’
The inner door remained firmly shut. Shit.
I stalked around the desk, yanked open the door and was immediately assailed by a cloud of stale alcohol and cigar smoke. Not good.
I glanced at Hightower, assessing whether I could haul his privileged arse further through the streets of Coldstream until we found another clinic. He’d passed out again. It was here or nothing.
He Who Guards leapt onto the desk and raised a paw. Yeah, yeah. I turned and strode beyond the door into the booze-fumed hallway. I’d barely taken three steps when a yawning man appeared pulling on a stained lab coat. He looked like a witch; I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
He raised bleary eyes in my direction and started. ‘Oi! You’re not allowed back here!’
‘Your receptionist told me to come straight through.’
His brow creased. ‘I don’t have a receptionist.’
‘You need one,’ I growled.
He flicked me his middle finger. ‘Listen, lady. I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I didn’t ask you to come. Feel free to walk straight out that door and away again.’
Quentin Hightower moaned from the waiting room behind me. I grimaced and considered my options. There were anumber of different ways I could play this; eventually, I discarded scary assassin in favour of a less-intimidating approach.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered. ‘But I’m desperate. That man out there – he needs your help.’ I allowed my eyes to fill with tears. When one escaped and rolled down my cheek, I clasped my hands. ‘Ineed your help.’
The bleary doctor gave me a flat look. ‘Do you think I’m that gullible? Save your crocodile tears, lady.’
Huh. I wiped my cheek. ‘You’re smarter than you look.’
He snorted. ‘You’re not.’
I wasn’t sure I deserved that response but complaining about it wouldn’t get me anywhere. I was nothing if not adaptable so I changed tactics. ‘My name is Kit – and that man out there really does need help. He’s Quentin Hightower.’
The doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘TheQuentin Hightower?’
‘Yep. He’s rich. If you help him, I’m sure there’ll be a big reward in it for you.’
‘Assuming he pays up after I save his rich arse.’
Hewassmart. ‘I’m sure you have ways of ensuring your invoices are paid,’ I said. ‘I need you to heal him and keep his presence here quiet. That’s all. If he doesn’t pay up then I will.’ I paused. ‘Are you sober enough to handle it?’
I expected a snide response but instead he simply nodded. ‘Yes.’
I raised my eyebrows. The doctor scowled; despite his grumpy exterior, harsh words and unwelcoming clinic, he possessed a considerable amount of professional pride. I relaxed. Now that I was beginning to understand him, I knew I could work with him.
‘Good,’ I said softly. We shared a look of grudging, temporary acceptance, then I licked my lips and steeled my stomach. ‘Igive you my word that you will receive financial recompense for your trouble.’
‘Your word? You’re brave.’
I shrugged. ‘I’m desperate.’
‘You in love with Hightower or something?’
‘Or something. I need to talk to him. I need to know what he knows.’
A smile played around the doctor’s lips. ‘In that case I’d better get to work.’ He walked past me. ‘I’m Fergus, by the way.’
