Page 19 of Ace of Shadows
“Am I still…” Her eyes flutter as if she’s wrestling with the urge to blink. “It was all… still true, wasn’t it?” She wets her lips once more. “The crash… my parents.”
I nod slowly and retract my hand. “It is. Doc advised that you were to get up as soon as you woke up, so when you’re ready, come and join me in the kitchen and I’ll fix you something to eat.”
She doesn’t speak again until I’m at the door, mug in hand. “I don’t know where your kitchen is.”
“Just follow the smell of food.”
Leaving the door open slightly, I walk down the hallway and fight the urge to look back. I can’t baby her, but the relief that she’s awake is like a rush. With her back in the world of the living, the truth is in my grasp. And it’s one less death I have to record.
An hour later, I stand over the stove with scrambled eggs sizzling in the pan in front of me and a row of sourdough, toasted, resting on a plate. The small squeak of a door hinge alerts me to a presence and looking up, I see her.
Ivy stands in the doorway looking somewhat frail while leaning heavily on the crutch I left by her bed. She’s still in her gown, but the dressing gown from the back of the door drapes over her shoulders, tied loosely at her waist.
“Hungry?” I ask, spooning the scrambled eggs onto the plate next to the toast. “Unless you’re lactose intolerant, in which case I’ll make you something else.”
She cautiously steps inside and tucks a strand of her messy blonde hair behind her ear. “Feel like I haven’t eaten in forever.”
I run a quick calculation in my head from the plane crash to now, then add an extra scoop of eggs. “We’ll get you back to your old self in no time.”
“Why?” Ivy hobbles toward the counter. “Why do you even care?”
“It’s my job to care.”
“Your job?” She pauses at the counter, gripping the crutch so tightly that her knuckles are pale. “What is this place? Who even are you?”
Setting the plate down on the kitchen table, I pull the chair out for her. “Eat first. We’ll talk after.”
“But—”
“Eat.” My tone firms up. “Please.”
Her eyes narrow faintly, but ultimately, hunger seems to win over and she sinks down into the chair with a soft whimper. After securing her crutch against the wall, she picks up the silverware and delves into the food like she’s ravenous. By the time I’ve washed up the pots and pans and wiped down the counters, her plate is spotless and she’s gulping down a glass of orange juice at an alarming rate.
“Oh, my God,” she gasps, lowering her glass and wiping away a few droplets of juice that cling to her lip. “I’m so thirsty.”
“You burned hot for a while,” I say, moving back to the table. “Although you should drink this instead.” I place a bottle of water from the fridge in front of her. “We don’t need a sugar crash. But slowly,” I add as I sit across from her. “We don’t need you flooding your kidneys either.”
She seems more alert now that she has some fluids and sugar in her, so now feels like a good time to talk.
“You talk so clinically,” she remarks after a few mouthfuls of cold water. “Eat but slowly. Drink but not too fast. Making me walk here so my joints warm.”
My brow twitches. “But you feel better, don’t you?”
She nods as she screws the cap back on the water, then a wall of thoughts seems to strike her as the shadows around her grow darker. “What happened?” she asks, and her voice quavers. “I don’t understand anything.”
Leaning back in my chair, I try to appear relaxed to ease the weight of what I have to say. “We know someone deliberately crashed the plane you were on. While you were out, we got ahold of the investigative report and it was sabotage. A small explosive in the hold that went off on a timer and blew a hole through three different floors. Small enough to be overlooked by the untrained eye but enough to put the plane into difficulty.”
Ivy’s grip tightens on the bottle and the plastic crinkles. “Someone… blew it up?”
I nod. “And they’re cleaning up. Were you close to any of the survivors?”
She squints at me. “I… no, I don’t think so. That cop said it was only passengers who survived, right?”
I nod slowly.
“My… my friends were on the crew.” Her voice wobbles and one hand moves over her mouth as if she’s trying to smother something. “My God. They’re all dead, aren’t they? Tasha and George and…” Slowly, her beautiful eyes fill with tears.
“Every other survivor is dead.”
