Free Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) by M.R. Forbes Page B

anything..."
    There was so much a doctor could say to a typical patient. So much they could try to explain, and help them prepare for. So many words they could use to fight through the shit situation both parties found themselves in. Doctor to doctor? There was nothing to say. There was nothing to do. I knew what I was in for. I knew how people fell apart from diagnosis to death.  
    Three months.
    I got to my feet and walked out without another word. My face felt like it was on fire, but it was cold to the touch. My heart was racing, and all the clarity that had brought me to the truth of my situation had fled the moment it had been confirmed. People passed me in the halls. They said hello. Maybe I was cordial and polite, maybe I brushed them off. I don't remember.  
    Somehow, I made my way to my own office. I closed the door behind me and slumped in my high leather chair, the chair I had dreamed of sitting in from the day I had first played with a stethoscope. I took my phone out of my pocket and held it up. I found Karen in the contact list a dozen times, but I never made the call. I was too afraid my hurt would get her hurt.
    I did the only thing there was left for me to do.
    I cried. Silently. In agony.  
    Some people think doctors are superheroes, immune to all of the garbage in life that downs lesser mortals. I was the furthest thing from a superhero. I was anything but strong. I wanted to be. I wished that I could be. I had everything I could ever want, and in three months it would all be gone.  
    I didn't want to die.

CHAPTER NINE
    A legend in the making.

    I called Dannie the moment I woke up, which was the same time the plane hit the tarmac at Bradley International in Hartford.  
    "I'm here. Which rental place did you book again?"
    "Thrifty." She sounded tired. "How was the flight?"
    "I got some sleep. Did I wake you?"
    "No. I've been working since you left. I can't find anything even remotely related to the rock you're tracking."
    "You didn't think you would." Neither did I. The Houses didn't tend to be interested in things that anyone else knew anything about, although there had been occasional exceptions. I reached into my pocket and found the dice, wrapping them in my hand. You couldn't Google them either.
    "Not in public circles, no. I went a little further than that. I called Arlen."
    "Are you sure that was a good idea? I don't really need to know what it is in order to carry it."
    Arlen Brown was a Professor Emeritus of archaeology at Washington State University. One of the foremost experts in most things pre-Leschamp. Nice guy, a little weird. I liked him overall. The problem was that his specialty was valuable enough to earn him work from a number of the Houses, if not all of them. Considering the job was a direct hit as opposed to the usual strafe, I didn't like the idea of giving him any information he could pass on, intentionally or not.
    "I know, but I'm still not happy about this." She paused, waiting for me to argue with her. When I didn't say anything, she kept going. "Two million to two ogres for a grab? Ogres aren't exactly known for their light feet and quiet gait."
    "I thought we had this discussion already." It was all I could think of to say. I might have been walking to my death, just like I was every other day of my life. It was fifty-fifty, and fear of what came after notwithstanding, we needed the money. People had done more for less.
    "We did, and I know you think it's a risk worth taking. I wanted to see if I could at least get the odds in your favor, so I asked Arlen about the stone. I sent him a picture."
    "How much did that cost?"
    "A hundred thousand."  
    I was tempted to be upset. We'd already lost a quarter of the take, and I hadn't even attempted the job yet. "I'm worth that much to you?" I asked.
    "Someone has to bring back Mr. Timms for me."
    "What did he say?"
    "He'd never seen anything like it."
    "That's it?"
    "Yeah."
    "A hundred thousand, and he gave you a phone