Page 92 of Waysider
Cal’s jaw clenched, his blue eyes flashing with frustration. “Not yet. Found out his name, though. Ricky Ramirez.”
“And what do you plan to do with—” Cass started.
Knocking cut her short. Only one person ever came to her room, so Cass immediately knew who stood in the hallway. She didn’t look away from Cal, and she didn’t move toward the door. “Now isn’t a good time, Finch,” she called.
Her roommate’s voice floated through the wood. “Someone is on the phone for you.”
“Tell them to call back, then.”
A pause. “Okay. But… he said to mention that he has information on someone named Ricky Ramirez.”
For an instant, Cass froze. She heard Cal say something, his voice full of disbelief, but Cass couldn’t make out any words past the roar of adrenaline in her ears. Then a rush of urgency hit her. Cass shot out of the chair and yanked the door open, blurting in her roommate’s startled face, “Thank you!”
Cass pushed past Finch and into the hall. Her mind raced as she hurried down the two flights of stairs. Was someone playing a prank, or had Ricky actually tracked her down here? What else could he possibly want from her? Cal wasn’t far behind, and he followed Cass into the kitchen. The room was buttery with morning light, and Tammy and Bradley sat in the breakfast nook. Their spoons clinked against their cereal bowls. For once, Cass was too distracted to yell at Cal about the risks of her roommates seeing him. She made a beeline for the phone, and the serene glow of the room was at odds with the panic clawing at her from the inside.
Cass grabbed the phone off the counter and pressed it to her ear, willing her voice not to shake. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Miss Cassandra Ryan?” a male voice said. Cass didn’t recognize it.
“Yes,” she answered curtly. “Who is this? What do you know about Ricky Ramirez?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Ryan. My name is Dr. Phillips. Personally, I know nothing about Mr. Ramirez. I’m the general administrator here at Lane County Security Hospital, and I’m contacting you on behalf of one of our patients.”
Security hospital? Cass thought blankly. Wasn’t that sort of place meant for really intense criminals? Feeling her roommates’ eyes on her, Cass turned away. She stepped over the cord and tugged it behind her, moving into the hallway. Cal followed, his expression more intense than she’d ever seen it. Once Cass was out of earshot she lowered her voice and demanded, “Is this some kind of joke?”
The doctor paused. As Cass waited for him to respond, she shifted restlessly. Movement drew her gaze, and Cass felt a startled jolt when she realized there was a mirror hanging on the wall across from her. Although Cal stood right beside her, she was alone in the glass.
“This is not a joke, Miss Ryan,” Dr. Phillips said. “And I want to make it clear that you can refuse if you want to.”
“Refuse what?”
He cleared his throat. “There’s a patient here who’s been asking for you. Normally, I would never allow visitors, and I wouldn’t ask someone to put themselves in such a dangerous… situation. But short of constant sedation, I’m out of options. The demands have become, uh, worrying.”
The halting way he spoke made Cass’s impatience fade. She knew fear when she heard it. Cass looked at her reflection, and she watched herself frown. “I’m sorry, what did you say the patient’s name is?” she asked.
“I didn’t.” The doctor cleared his throat again. “The patient’s name is Patrick Doyle.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
December 2nd, 1984
Deadwood, Oregon
Lane County Security Hospital
7:14 p.m.
There were two ways a demon was born.
They still hadn’t covered demonology in any of Cass’s classes, but she’d gone back to the library several times over the last few months. She probably knew more about it than any other freshman at Else & Bellows.
An alarm blared through the stillness. Red lights flashed like an eerie, broken stoplight. As Cass straightened, lowering her arms back to her sides, she tried to remember everything she’d read. Bits of glass sprinkled off her shoulders and landed on the floor. Miraculously, none of it had lodged into the exposed parts of her body. Broken shards glinted around Cass’s feet. It was all that remained of the barrier that had once stood between her and the Taxidermist.
“Run,” Cass heard her brother say, his voice sharp with fear. “Run, Cass!”
“Get behind me,” Sinister’s voice commanded.
Slowly, Cass raised her gaze. As she met Patrick’s glittering eyes, Cass knew they were fucked. Completely and totally fucked. Demons were almost impossible to kill, even for a powerful Shadowripper like Sinister. It had taken three of them to take down Artie Salmon.
