Free Shade City by Domino Finn Page A

a coma at Keck Hospital. I didn't know anything about the place but read that it was a state-of-the-art facility with cutting-edge technology, located near Union Station. It made sense that Alexander would be cared for at an esteemed location since he came from a rich family, but I still didn't know what to expect. Something tugged at me.
    I hated hospitals.
    * * *
    I talked my way to the neurological ward, posing as a family friend. Walking through the serene halls sent chills up my spine. It was depressing to stroll past bed after bed of patients hooked up to machines that staved off their deaths. In truth, it was likely that several of them were already dead inside, and not in the way that most expected.

    The dead don't operate like most movies portray. Shades require tangible vessels to substantiate their immaterial forms into our living world. Inanimate objects and animals are mere conduits and windows; they enable interaction but are not doorways. They aren't true escapes from the Dead Side. I saw where Violet really spent her time. The Dead Side was her home; she only communicated through my pocket watch.
    Humans, however, are another matter entirely. When people find themselves weakened, whether through harm or drugs or sickness, they expose themselves to certain spirits that have found a way to pass through. Many nights I hunt the fiends who get high and play in the minds of the reckless youth, but there are other kinds. As Violet had said, the Dead Side transforms spirits into any manner of twisted perversions.
    There is a whole class of shade that thrives on sickness and decay. They possess men and women and break their bodies down until they are either expelled or their host dies. This kind is usually rampant in hospitals, no matter how nice or expensive, and it is often self-defeating to fight them. By the time it becomes obvious that these unfortunate people have decay growing within, it's usually too late to save them. I had tried on occasion, and sometimes the patients underwent immediate complications and degraded. Or died. It was a facet of the dead that was unfamiliar to me and Violet. I figured, with a hospital staff working around the clock, it was better just to let their sad songs play out. But the tune grated my conscience. I was relieved when I finally arrived at my destination.
    I stepped into the private room and was alone with the dormant form of Alexander McAllister. The shades were drawn, creating a gloom that was brightened only by the displays of the medical equipment. Besides the lights and beeps and the white noise of the breather, it would have been a crypt in here.
    I stood at the edge of the bed longer than I should have, afraid of what I might discover.
    Violet had said that her father abandoned her. She said he was lost. Out of reach. Since he was here, was it possible that he was left behind? Was it possible that she was just waiting for her father to join her among the dead?
    Then, like an idiot, I was smacked with the obvious, way too late. If Livia had been taken and tried to kill the whole family, that would explain why Violet was helping me banish the dead. Perhaps she wasn't in a hurry to see her father. She was on a crusade instead. And I was her soldier.
    It was a sound theory but I had to collect the facts where I could. I may not have known anything about medicine, but I could see something that no one else in this building could.
    I placed my hand on the quiet chest of Alexander McAllister. I closed my eyes and breathed relief when I felt no foreign shadow within him. The man was not possessed; except for the grievous wound he had suffered, he was normal.
    "Who are you?"
    The words came from behind in a gruff voice. I jerked away from the hospital bed. In the doorway was a bald man in his mid-forties, yet still tall and strong. He looked like a former basketball player, especially since he wore cross-training sweats. In short, he looked mean and had large hands.
    "Oh, sorry.