I am still wary of the Hound's abrupt escape. I head slowly down the alleyway toward my car, keeping an eye out for surprise attacks. Nothing pops out at me, but I notice my car has shifted slightly from where I parked it. I'm not the perfect driver, but I know I parked between the painted lines when I came here. The reason it is moved becomes clear when I reach it–there's a big dent in the rear passenger side panel just behind the back tire. It's not very deep, but it is wide. It looks like it was made by a hydraulic press or something. Maybe something that flew from my fight with the Hellhound?

I scan the area for what could have caused the damage, but don't see anything lying around. Why is it always my stuff that gets hit? I examine the dent more closely and see that someone thinks they are funny. I don't know what kind of person would sit here and scratch a picture into the crater in my car, but there's a small scratched drawing of a fish moving toward a frowny face with exed-out eyes.

Yeah, real funny.

I check the inside of the car to make sure there are no surprises for me. Convincing myself that everything is as it should be, I pat down my back. Everything seems dried, so I get in and grab my phone again to text Anna. I send a message to the number I have from when we worked together, hoping it's still the right one. There are three hospitals closeby, so it's really a toss-up which one they went to. I shoot Kai a brief message too with the information that guy gave me. Hopefully he’ll help since Vithar didn’t want to. I get a thumbs up emoji back from him and it doesn't take Anna long to respond either. She tells me where they are and that the EMTs said Brad is stable and shows no signs of permanent damage.

That's a blessing, I guess.

I'll still go up there to check on them in a supernatural scope. I want to make sure no other creature is coming to finish the job, and I really want to speak to Anna further about what she's been experiencing.

I check the damage to the area as I drive through. For such a quick fight, there’s a lot of damage. I feel bad for the shop owners, but I try not to internalize it. There’s a lot that happens in this city, even stuff that doesn’t involve me. It definitely seems like the Hellhound was expecting something from me. There’s a honk behind me as I creep through. I was in my own little world and didn’t realize there was a line of cars trailing me. I turn onto the main road and head for the hospital Anna said they were going to.

Something that other people, mostly Americans, probably share with me is: I hate hospitals. It's not because of death, like most people. I've seen a lot of it, and unfortunately, I've become mostly inured. It's not because of the sick or the dying of sickness, because I don't get sick often. Most strains of illness that make it into my body get burned up in my system. And it's not because of the antiseptic smell of a good, clean hospital. I actually happen to like that quality. What I hate about hospitals is the massively abundant amounts of energy that surrounds them. I can't escape it in a hospital–people passing on, people being born, sorrow, joy, worry, elation–I can feel it all here. Hospitals are the most concentrated place for some of the best and worst points of people's lives.

Other places hold one type of energy or another. An example would be a concert hall or amphitheater–utter joy. The overwhelming positivity and peace that music brings is undeniable, and it leaves an impression on the areas where large concentrations of people feel it. Or, there's places like war zones or graveyards–intentional or otherwise. These places carry a lot of regret, shock, grief, or surprise. It's hard not to get sad or cry within them.

Hospitals, however, hold such an amalgam of emotions that entering them is like an assault to the senses for those who are sensitive to auras and the like–such as myself. I don't see spirits anymore, thankfully, but I have always felt their displaced energy, their presence. So when I pull up to the hospital, the gamut of these feelings run through me. By the time I am used to it, I have to wipe my eyes. I'm not even sure if they are happy tears or sad tears. In the end, though, it doesn't really matter. I am here to get answers. As much as I enjoyed talking to her when we worked together, I don't relish the talk we are about to have. It's not going to be fun for her either if whatever is affecting her is breaking.

I don't get a greeting from the receptionist until I walk up to the desk. I assume it is, again, because of how I look. I should have changed.

“Hi,” she says with a practiced smile. “What can I help you with?”

“Hi, I'm looking to visit a patient?”

“Alright,” she says, eyeing my clothes suspiciously.

“It’s makeup and effects. We were trying costumes for a zombie walk type thing,” I say.

She nods, and a look of dismissal crosses her features. “Do you have the room number or name?”

“Uh, Anna? Anna Romero?” I say. I don't know why I'm saying everything with an upward inflection, but there it is.

“I'm sorry, there is no room with that name,” she says.

So I offer Brad's. “Bradley.”

“I'm sorry it was Bradley what?” she asks.

“Uh, Gurkle, G-U-R-K-L-E.”

“Gurkle, Gurkle,” she repeats in low tones, looking through the computer. “Here it is.”

She gives me the room number, D-313, and eyes my clothing again as I walk away. I get in the elevator to go up to the floor the room is located on. A few people filter in and out on my way up, but some actually let the doors close without stepping on when they see me. I really should've grabbed the duffel from my trunk. I don't mind them keeping their distance, though. Given the situation, it would behoove me to keep an eye out for any sign of the Hellhound. Fewer distractions will make it easier. Stepping off the elevator, I walk down the corridor, keeping my senses open and alert. I don't know why the Hound attacked Brad. Why was it so intent on getting to just him? It seemed confused when I told them to run, like it thought I wanted it to kill him. That was really odd. I don't feel its presence anywhere around here, though. I'm really glad about that, because the energy in this place is swirling at the moment. It is necessary for me to take a moment and lock my emotions down again upon exiting the elevator. Each floor and wing has a different type of energy and I pass through a couple of them. It is not super pleasant.

This floor is designed as a long, wide hallway. Rooms line the sides and are split with odd numbers on the left side of the floor, even on the right. Nurses stations and offices line the median. As I walk through, there are only a few nurses in sight, and most of them ignore my existence. They are supposed to be in this section, D, and I'm looking for room 313. It's hard not to look in each room as I walk past, but doing so seems disrespectful somehow. So I keep my head straight and look forward until my ears pick up on Anna's voice. She talks, but gets no response that I can hear. Following it until I see the number, I reach up and knock on the wall, then wait for a response.

“Yeah?” I hear her say.

“Anna, it's Mike. Am I okay to come in?”

“Yeah, you can come in,” Anna calls out.

And I do. She is on the hospital room's phone, and wraps up the conversation once I enter. It sounds like maybe she is speaking to someone about Brad's condition–maybe a parent or something. She is sitting on a couch in the room, one of those stiff ones that turn into a really bad bed. They're not comfortable in either form, but I walk over and sit with her.

“How is he? How are you?” I ask after she hangs up.

“All I've really heard is that he's stable. His breathing is fine, heart rate, everything is fine. I overheard them saying he's got a concussion and possibly a broken rib or two, but other than that, his cuts are mostly superficial. He's on some painkillers right now.” She glances at him in the bed.

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I sigh and frown. “I'm sorry, I tried to help.”

“I don't remember a lot of what just happened. But I do know that you saved him, Mike. You saved his life. I screamed and froze when that mountain lion jumped at him,” she says, repeating the lie I told. “You pushed me out of the way and took him to the ground.”

“Yeah, but then I got pummeled and it still got to you guys. I didn't stop anything,” I say.

She creases her brow and shakes her head. “No, you came back and–” she cuts off mid-sentence. Her eyes are suddenly unfocused, her expression blank. This, as bad as it sounds, is what I wanted to see.

“Anna, I came back and what?” I interrupt her detachment.

Her eyes focus again and she looks at me.“I'm sorry, what'd you say?”

“Hey, what were we just talking about?” I ask her in a soft tone, watching her face.

“We–the . . .” She sighs and glances around the room briefly before looking back at me. “We were attacked… by the mountain lion, and Brad pushed me out of the way. He saved me… No,” she puts her hands to the sides of her head. “No, that's not right. What happened?” She looks at me with tears welling in her eyes again. I'm clenching my fists and grinding my teeth watching her go through this. Her state is worse than what was happening last time. If this is caused by someone's ability, I might be able to help. I attempt to ease my tension slowly with a breath.

“Anna,” I say, touching her shoulder, “can you close your eyes for a sec?”

“What?” she asks. Her face twists in confusion.

“I've had memory problems before, too. If you're okay with it, I want to try to help you like a friend helped me.”

She shrugs, but agrees with a shake of her head. When she closes her eyes, it forces the tears that were on the precipice to fall and roll down her cheeks. “Okay, what am I supposed to do?” she asks.

“Try to think about your first skewed memory, right when the problems you told me about started,” I say, putting my hands out in front of me in a prayer pose then pulling them apart slowly, palms first.

“That's kind of hard to do.”

“It doesn't have to be precise, just the earliest memory that seems scrambled.” The void energy responds like I've practiced and starts to expand at my urging. The color fades from the usual inky black as it spreads, turning dull first, then fading into imperceptibility. I don't want it to be seen, so the bubble I've put around us goes fully transparent.

“Okay, I think I've got it.”

“Good, now tell me about it. Keep your eyes closed and really try to push past the static.” It stays around us and awaits my commands. I let her speak before giving it more instruction.

“I was working, I started helping this guy and he started flirting with me,” she starts, and my dome pushes out to cover the entirety of the room. The command I give it is to nullify any and all effects of spells or abilities that could be causing the break in her mind. There is a sharp intake of breath from her beside me. With the task completed, I rest my hands back on my lap. I'll just have to continue to concentrate on the effect–that's the easy part. Unfortunately for her, once my ability fades, the effects on her will snap back into place. I might be able to make it permanent, but I can't try that yet. I need information first that might be locked in her memories. It may help me figure out if something happened afterwards or if this is still an ill effect from the incubus's ability.

I'm sorry, Anna, I need you to endure just a little longer.

“Mike, what just happened?” She asks, her eyes snap open and focus on me. The green of them is more vibrant, intensified by her recent crying. It leaves me feeling like they are piercing through me.

“What do you mean? We just started the meditation exercise.”

“I remember…” she says.

“What do you remember?

“That guy with the hair. Then I got sick and you helped me.” Her eyes are moving around rapidly, stopping on mine occasionally. “You came by to hang out, then you left after asking me some weird questions about my sister.” She eyes me again for a second. “Then that little man came and took that box that she sent me. How did I forget that?”

“Keep going, what little man?” I'm rushing her along. I should let her work through it, but this is already good information and I want to know what happens next.

“Then . . . Brad. Ugh, I don't even like him. Why am I–” I glance over at Brad lying on the bed, but he really seems to be out. When I look back, her nose is bleeding. This is more than I was prepared for, more than I thought. Something else happened. Or is happening. Her memories should not have flooded back this quickly. Given how much the block in her mind is fracturing, fighting even my ability, this affliction is probably something that needs to be maintained.

Which says to me, someone is regularly seeing her and blocking her memories.

“Anna,”

“And so much time has passed. Then that–that thing earlier.”

“Anna, you should–”

“You fought it. You knocked it away and you moved so fast.” Uh oh.

“Hey, I think–”

“You–” she stops speaking abruptly, reaches up to touch her lip and sees the blood coming out of her nose. Her eyes go wide then roll back into her head, and she falls onto the couch.

Double damn, what did I do?

I expel my void zone and lift her up to lean on me, calling her name a few times. She's non-responsive, but not seizing. I call for help. A nurse rushes into the room and glances at Brad on the bed first, then at us. I lie her down on the couch again and the nurse checks on her.

“What happened?” he asks, first coming to me.

“I don't know. We were just talking and her nose started bleeding, then she passed out.”

He seems confused at first. He was moving to check on me until I gestured to her. “What's her name?”

“Anna.”

He starts to call her name while cleaning up the blood from her nose and mouth. She stirs then comes to, trying to sit up. He lets her but helps her upright slowly. Then checks her eyes and feels her head.

“How do you feel?” he asks her. She sits up fully and takes in the room.

“I'm alright,” she says. He checks her ears then has her repeat a few phrases for him. He looks at me with a confused frown.

“Are you a patient here?” he asks.

“No, I was just visiting.” His face is unreadable with the many expressions present.

“I'll be right back. I'm going to consult the attending.” He glances at her again and, once he's satisfied she seems stable, he leaves to do so.

“That's embarrassing,” she says, smirking. “Did I fall asleep?” Wow, what a whiplash of emotions. Whoever did this to her doesn't understand human reactions or emotions at all. This is not healthy.

“Yeah, you fell asleep. I'm gonna go, Anna. I've got to look into some stuff. Remember that the doctors are here to help you, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, “Oh, wait. You didn't find my phone by chance did you?” I look around.

“No, but I'm sure it's around here somewhere.”

“No, I mean from when we were put into the ambulance.” She's still saying everything with a cheery attitude. Like being put into an ambulance is a fun ride.

“Huh? You told me that you guys were here.”

She shakes her head. “No, it fell out of my pocket when we were running. I tried to call it from the room's phone, but I don't think it was picked up with us.”

My gut drops. She was on the room's phone when I got here. This one isn't a memory problem. I've been duped. Did someone want me here? My skin prickles at the thought. I need to get the hell out of here. Now. I haven't felt any hostility or ill intent toward me specifically since I've been here, but that wouldn't be easy to sense with all the emotions here. Plus I wasn't really paying attention. I get up to leave, and she turns to Brad.

“I didn't find your phone. I'll go back and see if I can find it for you. I'll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Mike!” she says, and sits on the couch, surrendering to that same vacancy again.

A woman in a lab coat, presumably the doctor, is heading toward the room flanked by the nurse that just checked on Anna.

“Did something else happen?” he asks.

“No, she actually seems better than before.”

“She didn't tell us she was injured in the attack, so we’re not sure,” the nurse says to the doctor. I shrug and move on. They continue into the room and I overhear the doctor say something about the need for an MRI.

After Anna's admission that she lost her phone, the paranoia creeps back into my every thought.

This just keeps getting better.