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CHAPTER 28

Ariel dismounted from the bus and looked up at the hospital. It was late afternoon, and he was thankful for the shadows cast by the tall buildings. Even with heavy-duty sunscreen and the ultra-dark glasses, he was thankful for anything that kept him out of direct sunlight.

Ichilov Hospital was oddly shaped—it looked like it was at least twelve stories high, with more of a parallelogram footprint than the usual rectangle. There was a large, round helipad on the roof that hung over the edges in a couple of places. He shrugged, having seen stranger buildings in California, and headed for the main entrance.

He caught a glimpse of himself in some of the large window glass as he approached the door. Leather jacket, collarless black shirt, black jeans and his favorite Doc Marten boots instead of running shoes. He was impressed, for a moment, at how cutting edge he looked. The vampire metabolism had left him with a certain “lean and hungry look,” to quote a line of Shakespeare that his senior-year English teacher had hammered into him. He was still getting used to that. This was strengthened by the fact that he hadn’t slept well due to confused and turbulent nightmares. He could see the effects in his face. He gave his head a shake and reached for the door.

Once inside, it took a few moments to find a help desk, and a few more moments to convince them to tell him where Yael was. The good news was he didn’t have to go far. She was on the second floor. The bad news was that was where the intensive care unit was.

Ariel exited the elevator and turned in the direction the signs pointed toward ICU. Someone was standing at the control-station desk. She looked over her shoulder as he approached. It was Abigail. “Ariel!” she exclaimed, before she rushed the three steps separating them and threw her arms around him. “Thank you!” she said, her voice muffled by his neck.

He put his arms around her for a moment, then put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. “How is Yael?”

“Better, but they’re still keeping her in ICU.” Abigail grabbed Ariel by the arm and tugged him into a waiting room where they sat knee to knee in a corner, and she told him everything.

“First, she finally woke up about 0600 this morning. That was a relief to everyone. The doctors were very concerned that she had been unconscious for over twenty-four hours. They were afraid that she had brain damage from the beating. So she woke up, and then not long after that they got the results of the first urinalysis. They found evidence of Rohypnol, so…”

“Wait,” Ariel said. “Rohypnol? The date rape drug? So she was raped?”

Abigail nodded. “Rape was confirmed. And, yeah, Rohypnol is one of the date rape drugs. And for her to be out that deeply and for that long, it must have been a really large dose of it. She’s-lucky-she’s-still-alive kind of dose.”

Ariel’s anger began to burn again, and increased with every word that Abigail had said.

Abigail continued, unaware of what Ariel was feeling. “Once they knew that, they were able to give her some treatments to help her come out of that. Last time I got to see her, she was more like normal.”

“So what else is wrong?” Ariel asked. “She’s still in ICU!”

“They did both an MRI and a CT scan on her,” Abigail responded. “So far they’ve found a couple of hematomas in her abdomen, three cracked ribs, and her left ulna is broken near the wrist. Lots of bruising on her arms and legs. The guy must have worn some pointed-toe shoes, from the way the docs talked. But the biggest problem now that Yael’s awake is she can’t see out of her left eye.”

Ariel stiffened. “Is her eye damaged?”

Abigail shook her head. “No, or at least, they don’t think so. They don’t see any damage. The eyeball itself seems to be fine. The iris is normal. They’ve added an ophthalmologist to the team, and his exam didn’t show any evidence of retinal problems. But she has absolutely no vision out of it. None. No light perception, no blobs, no fuzzy shapes. Nothing. Zilch. So whatever the problem is, it’s got to be in her head. They’ve got her back in the MRI room right now doing another skull series.”

Ariel’s heart sank. “Oh…my…God,” he whispered.

Abigail’s face got a really concerned expression. “What…what is it? What do you know about this?”

Ariel took a deep breath, then let it all out. “I’ve studied the physiology of the vision system. I had a professor in the US who was a nut about eyeballs and associated stuff.” He swallowed heavily. “If there was no damage to the eye itself, then something has gone wrong with the optic nerve. Because she’s been beaten, the two most likely possibilities are either internal bleeding in the skull causing enough pressure on the nerve to shut it down or a small blood clot forming in the brain’s circulatory system and lodging in the blood vessel next to the nerve. Either one can put on enough pressure to shut the nerve down, and if that happens the nerve will die in less than twenty-four hours unless they can relieve the pressure somehow. If it was the internal bleeding issue, that should have been very evident on the earlier MRI. But if it’s the blood clot, it would be very small and it might not have been picked up when they read the MRI. Even if they find it now, it’s been so long that…” He choked off.

“That she might be blind in that eye forever?” Abigail whispered.

“Yeah.”

Ariel felt his hands start to clench. He put his hands in his lap, lacing the fingers together and clasping them so tightly even his vampire bones creaked. He put his head down and took deep breaths in and out of his nose, staring at his feet, trying to channel his rage. He wasn’t sure how long it took him, but at length he did get it damped down enough that his jaw would loosen enough to talk.

Abigail was looking at him, wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just…I wasn’t expecting that.” After a moment, he looked at her. “I’m not a guy who chases girls,” he said with a wry twist to his mouth, “but I know you all know about certain guys in the dating pool. Who could have done this?”

Abigail shook her head, but before she started to speak, Ariel lifted a finger. “Abi, someone she knows did this, even if she only knew him from the clubs. What can you tell me?”

She bit her lip for a long moment, then murmured, “There are two or three guys that the uni girls have put the word out to avoid, yeah.”

“Any of them speak Russian?”

“One, I think so.” Her voice was fading.

“Do you know his name?”

“I don’t remember, but it was a European-sounding name, not Hebrew.”

“Could it have been Gersh Davidoff?”

She looked uncertain. After a moment she shrugged and said, “Could be, but I really don’t remember.”

“Is he a stalker? Does he hunt them down when they’re alone?”

She shook her head. “He comes and goes. Whoever he is, he’ll be gone for a couple of months, and then be back in town for a week or two. We never know when he’s going to be around.”

“Anything unusual about him?”

She started to shake her head again, then paused. “Boots. Cowboy boots.”

“Boots?” Ariel knew he sounded surprised. That was because he was. Cowboy boots…in Israel?

“The rumors say that he likes cowboy boots. But that’s not a lot of help. There are several stores in Tel Aviv that sell them. And most girls don’t look at a guy’s shoes if they’re being harassed. I wouldn’t.”

Ariel’s mobile buzzed with a message. Where are you? It was from Mordechai.

Hospital, he typed back.

Be there in 10. Be ready.

“Crap,” Ariel muttered.

“What?” Abigail sounded confused.

“Oh, I called in a favor to help find Yael, and now I have to go deal with it. How late is visitation?”

“They allow ICU patients to have visitors every two hours for fifteen minutes. Next time is at 2000. And they only allow one visitor at a time for ICU.”

Ariel looked around. “Does Yael have any family here?”

“Her parents were both olim from Canada, so she had no other family but them and her older brother. Her brother was in the Border Police and was killed in the West Bank three years ago. Her parents died from Covid two years ago. We’re—the group at school—we’re all she’s got.”

Ariel didn’t have words to describe how that made him feel. He reached out and took Abigail’s hands. “Listen, you tell her that I was here, and I’ll be back to check on her as soon as I can. Okay?”

Abigail nodded.

“I have to go now.” Ariel stood. “Let me know if anything changes or if you find out anything more. I’ll try to be back tonight, but I can’t promise it.”

“Go,” Abigail said. “I’ll tend to her tonight.

Ariel wasted no time in getting to the elevator. He didn’t run or trot, but his feet were moving quickly and the Doc Martens were thumping the floor with some authority. The elevator door opened as soon as he hit the button, and moments later he was in the lobby, striding toward the front door with people moving out of his way.

Exiting the doors just as Mordechai arrived, Ariel didn’t even break stride, just moved to the car and slid into the passenger seat.

Mordechai looked at him. “Well?”

“She was fed a date rape drug, she was raped, and she was severely beaten either before, during, or after the rape. She was apparently kicked several times with pointy-toed shoes or boots. As a result of the beating, she appears to have lost the sight in her left eye. She has no family. I’m going to hunt this scum down.”

Mordechai pulled out into traffic. His next question caught Ariel off guard. “Do you love her?”

“What?” Ariel didn’t know how to respond to that one.

“Do you love her? Do you think of her as a lover, or a sister, or the Platonic Ideal?”

Ariel snorted. “Not the Platonic thing, that’s for sure. Before this”—he laid his hand on his chest—“I would have certainly had a crush on her. She’s not beautiful, not in the California

sun-and-fun way, but she’s intelligent, she’s got a wicked sense of humor, and she’s somewhere between cute and handsome.” He paused for a moment. “I’ve been resisting her and all the other girls in our group. I can’t give them what they need, so it wouldn’t be fair to start anything with any of them. So, no, not a lover. Sister?” He shrugged. “I was an only child. I don’t know what having a sister feels like.” After a moment, he continued, “But she’s important to me. I don’t know why. She just is.”

Mordechai guided the car around a corner onto a major street, and picked up speed. “All right. I think I can understand that. Especially after what happened in California.

“First, understand that there will almost certainly be people that you connect with in spite of your good intentions. That’s actually a necessity, for you to remain sane. Being a vampire has changed your body. It has not changed your mind and soul and spirit—or at least, not that much. You are not a machine. You will continue to need friends, and there aren’t enough vampires around to fill that need. Accept that.

“Second, unless someone manages to kill you, you will outlive all of them. Accept that. Deal with that.

“Third, there will be times, like this one, where you will want to defend or provide retribution for someone you have connected with. But if you choose to do so, you’d best be very certain that you’re right. Because if those you serve catch even a small hint that you are being unjust, unrighteous, arbitrary, or capricious, you will discover that your life can indeed be terminated. And if I am still around, I will help. Understood?” Mordechai’s voice had grown increasingly colder as his monologue had progressed.

Ariel took a deep breath. “Understood.”

“So where do you want to begin?” Mordechai’s voice had returned to its normal warmth.

“Take me home, first. I’ll need to prepare. But after that? I’m going bar-crawling.”

Mordechai nodded.

A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of Ariel’s apartment complex. Ariel put has hand on the door latch, but paused and looked over at Mordechai. “Where can I buy a reliable cheap mobile?”

“You’re thinking a burner?”

Ariel nodded.

Mordechai’s mouth quirked. “So you’ve learned that much of the craft. Good. Actually, you can buy cheap ones just about everywhere. But reliable cheap ones, when I need one of those, I go to The Lucky Star convenience store, the one about three blocks from Shaka’s. Mr. Li, the owner, stocks a good grade of anonymous mobiles.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ariel said. He paused for a moment. “Is that just random knowledge, or do you and Mr. Li have some kind of relationship?”

Mordechai’s smile returned. “Good question. You’re starting to think like an operative. No, he doesn’t work for me or the police. But doing what he does, he hears things. He never calls me, but occasionally I’ll go ask him a few questions.”

“An informer?” Ariel’s brow furrowed.

“Not in the American TV cop show sense, no. But he knows his neighborhood, he knows his neighbors and clientele, and sometimes he hears things. So…”

“You occasionally stop and ask him a question or two.”

“Exactly.”

“Is this your way of telling me I need to start building my own network?”

Mordechai shrugged. “A hint, perhaps.”

“Should I talk to him tonight? Should I ask him about Davidoff?”

“It can’t hurt; it might help.”

“Huh.” Ariel chewed on that thought for a minute or so.

“Do you have much cash?” Mordechai asked, interrupting his train of thought.

Ariel thought. “Four, maybe five hundred shekels.”

“That’s not enough. Here.” Mordechai reached inside his suit coat and brought out a long, thin wallet, from which he extracted a thickish stack of what looked like two hundred shekel notes, the largest cash note Israel issued. “Here’s four thousand. Call me if you need more.”

“I can’t take that. I’ll draw from my own account. I’ve got a fair amount stashed away. I don’t spend much, living here.”

“You won’t draw from your account. Don’t leave any kind of tracks. Nothing that can be traced. Just in case things go wrong.”

Ariel froze for a moment, and realized Mordechai was right. He needed to start thinking like that. “All right,” he said slowly, reaching for the cash, “but I’ll pay you back later.”

“Later is time enough to be worrying about that. And you call me if you need more. You call me if you get into trouble. You call me if you need help. And you call me when you find him.”

“Yes, Mama,” Ariel joked.

“Not a joke, Ariel. Solo operators don’t last long. You need someone watching your back now, just like I did in Santa Carla. I won’t insist on walking with you—you will hunt better alone—but I will be in the area. You will keep me advised as to what’s going on. Understood?”

Ariel nodded. “Understood.”

“Good. Now let’s go in and get you prepped.”

A quarter of an hour later, Ariel threw the body armor on the bed. “No. It’s too big, too bulky, it won’t fit under my jacket. And I have to have my jacket to hide the gun and the magazines.”

“You could get another biker jacket. There are bikers in Israel, you know.”

Ariel caught the small smile on Mordechai’s face, so his response was more measured than it otherwise might have been. “What part of ‘not wanting to attract attention’ is unclear to you?”

Mordechai chuckled at that.

“Seriously, though, you’d best think about getting a larger size jacket to wear for those times where you want to be unobtrusive but will need the armor.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ariel waved a hand. “That will be then, this is now.” He turned away from the bed and slipped into the black leather jacket he always wore when he wanted to be serious. It dawned on him that he was becoming monochromatically predictable. He pushed that thought aside for later consideration, and started going down his checklist:

“Pistol.” He picked it up from the bed, inserted the magazine, and put the pistol in the shoulder holster. He looked up at Mordechai. “Yes, the chamber’s empty. I’m being good.”

He pulled his coat up and slapped his left hip. “Three magazines fully loaded with hollow points. With what’s in the pistol, that’s sixty rounds.”

Next tap went to his hip pocket. “Wallet with IDs and weapon card.”

Ariel moved away from the bed and back into the living room. “Flashlight.” He picked a slim flashlight up from the desk and placed it in his inner-right jacket pocket.

“Mobile.” That went into his inner left jacket pocket.

“Earpiece.” He put it in his right ear, and pulled out his mobile long enough to make sure they were synched.

“Leather gloves.” He pulled those out of the outer jacket pockets and held them up, then put them back.

Ariel looked around. “I think that’s it.”

Mordechai stirred from where he’d been leaning against the bedroom door doorframe. “Not quite. First, heavy zip ties for restraints. Much better than trying to tie someone up with their belt or clothes. Second, heavy cloth tape to cover mouth and maybe eyes. Third, nitrile gloves.”

Ariel felt disgusted with himself. Obvious stuff that he should have considered. He now understood why Mordechai kept harping on experience. “None of which I have.”

Mordechai grinned as he walked by him. “I have some in the car. I always have some there. Never know when you’re going to have to take someone down, you know.” He stopped on the other side of the desk. “One more thing. Take this.” He picked up the glass knife and handed it to Ariel. “I know you’re not a knife guy. But I have a feeling that having the edge of a blade available may prove useful.”

Ariel took it after a moment and tucked it into the pocket with his flashlight.


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