longer, I rummaged through her purse to find her phone. I’d left my phone, my wallet, everything but my keys back at the house and honestly didn’t remember bringing Grace’s purse or her messenger bag from the rental car. Maybe Aunt Emelia had the good sense to fetch them, since I left the car parked in the ambulance bay.
Her wallet weighed nothing. A driver’s license. Ten different credit cards, all with a black X in marker on them. A packet of birth control pills meticulously punched, and a smashed packet of saltine crackers, which I devoured.
At the bottom of her purse I found her phone. I took it out, and then followed the hospital signs to the designated cell area.
Dale’s number came to mind, my fingers reflexively dialing, only to cancel it and dial BSI Medical. I waited for the prompts, then dialed, 9, 1, 1. A man picked up the phone within seconds. “Emergency Medical Services.”
“This is Brynner Carson. Field Operative Grace Roberts is hospitalized. County Hospital, New Mexico.” I swallowed, my throat as dry as a dead cactus.
“It’s an honor to speak to you, sir.”
I hung up on him and dialed another number, one I hated calling. When the voice mail answered, I spoke. “Maggie, it’s Brynner. I need you to find me Grace’s emergency contact.” After leaving the cell phone number, I hung up and began to pace.
Moments later, the phone rang. I fumbled with the touch screen to answer. “Carson speaking.”
“Brynner,” said the director, “what have you done?”
Seventeen
BRYNNER
The urge to scream in frustration melted like a snow cone in the desert as I thought of Grace. Her defenselessness called to me like a beacon. Instead, I explained to Director Bismuth about the scorpion. About the EpiPen, and the drive, and waiting.
And after a moment, Director Bismuth spoke. “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. I assumed when I heard you, that you had led her—”
“To my bed? Into another fight? I know. I don’t care. I don’t work for you anymore, and all I want you to do is let me call her emergency contact and let them know what happened. I owe them that much. She has a boyfriend, I think, and a daughter.”
“I refused to accept your resignation.”
I didn’t call to fight, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t. “That’s because I didn’t resign, I quit. You don’t get a say in that. It’s like saying I didn’t tell you about a surprise party. Surprise.”
“Brynner, we need you. I take it Ms. Roberts didn’t inform you of our conversation.”
“You need my father. Grace will get back to translating when she’s better. My aunt will say when that is, not you. Can I call you Maggie now that we don’t work together?”
“No.” Her tone said she’d like to strangle me over the phone. “Ms. Roberts has a trust company listed as the benefactor on her insurance, but no emergency contact for the last four years.”
The trust fund I got, but no emergency contact? That made no sense. “You sure?”
“Please, Brynner. Of course I’m sure. When she came to work, she listed a brother, but given that her file shows bereavement time for his funeral, and we have a copy of his cremation certificate, I doubt he’ll be accepting our call.”
So I was it for now. At least until Grace could give me the number herself. “Take care, Maggie. The TV says it’s crazy out there.”
“We’re finding those spells everywhere now, Brynner, and not just in wells or pits or abandoned warehouses. Two days ago we found one in a cargo barge in Louisiana. A barge not even docked.”
The air temperature dropped about thirty degrees in the space of six seconds, according to the goose bumps on my arms. What was it about water? About boats? “You have pictures of it?”
“Of course. I’d send them to your BSI account, but as I understand, you wish to terminate your employment.” The pure pleasure in her voice infuriated me. “Am I mistaken?”
I paced the cellular area, knowing she had me pinned. “Don’t—Don’t do anything rash.”
She left me hanging on the phone, agonizing, for several seconds. “This is certainly a reversal of circumstance. That would normally be the advice I give you, and normally, you would ignore it.”
Grace’s cell phone chirped, dying. Just as well, since I was fighting the urge to say some things that I could actually write in hieroglyphics. “Nothing seems normal anymore.”
I hung up and returned to Grace’s room.
In Grace’s messenger bag, I found her laptop. Using the