CHAPTER 16- LIMBO
For three weeks Bell was stuck in limbo, between life and death. Every night Ragon and often Clyde would go in to see her, until the late night visiting hours passed and even then, they would often remain until the nurses, who Clyde would flirt with shamelessly in order to convince them to extend their visiting restrictions, kicked them out. Sometimes Ragon would pace the room, desperately trying to make sense of everything and other times he would sit and hold Bell's hand, willing her to live. During these forced instances, when Clyde ad Ragon were required to tolerate each other's company, the pair did not communicate and each pretended the other was not there. Though Clyde still remained with the coven, he had not spoken to Ragon since the night of Sameth's betrayal. During the day Clyde remained locked in his room and at night he left the house only to feed or visit Bell. Patrick had continued to teach Ryder the ins and outs of being a vampire. Ryder, who had managed not to kill anyone yet, was still as blood hungry as ever. On one particularly memorable occasion, Ryder had insisted on wanting to visit Bell in the hospital. It had not just been Ragon and Clyde who protested but most of the coven, all except Patrick, who couldn't see the harm in Ryder stretching his legs.
"He has been couped up in this house for ages," Patrick said, quickly coming to Ryder's defence after Ryder had asked the coven if he could join them to visit Bell.
"He is a fledgling Patrick!" Ragon yelled. "Taking Ryder to the hospital is like waving a bag of blood in his face and asking him not to drink."
"I agree," Cambridge said. "Ryder going to the hospital is a terrible idea. You know how heightened your emotions are after you are changed. He might want to hug Bell and end up ripping her head off."
"We are going to have to let him try his strengths soon," Patrick said, grabbing Ryder by the arm and pulling him onto the veranda, where a mesmerised boy waited.
Ryder followed obediently, his eyes locking onto the young man who was wearing a pair of cargo pants and a bright blue shirt. For a moment Ryder squealed, clapping his hands together, as a broad evil grin spread across his face.
"Remember what I said," Patrick instructed and Ryder groaned, but moved to sit down on the floor of the veranda, within arm's reach of the man, humming tunelessly to himself.
Patrick had insisted on getting Ryder to sit in the same room as a blood source and to practice not attacking them. The first time Ryder had tried this he had almost gone crazy trying to ignore the delicious morsel that awaited him, by running around the veranda as fast as possible so as to tire himself out. This had the effect of making his prey very dizzy and himself even hungrier than he had been initially. Fortunately, since then, his hunger was much more tamed; but still he was irritated at having to wait to be fed. He had fought for a long time with Patrick about accepting this lesson, insisting that it made him feel at best like an inferior student and at worst, like a dog. Though he had tried repeatedly, he still was unable to induce or disassociate his victims. This did not surprise any of the coven members, as being able to use either of these vampiric skills often took years, if not decades to master. Disassociation was usually the first power to develop and it was often thought of as being an innate ability of vampires, owing to the fact that they relied on this ability to allow them to hunt without prosecution. Still, Patrick's efforts to tame Ryder had not all been in vain. Along with learning to mimic the mannerisms of being alive again, Ryder had mastered part of his restrain and had not killed any of the people who he fed from: so far.
It was almost January, during the middle of the day, when the first shade of hope was delivered to the coven. A ringing noise caught Ragon's attention. It was an odd noise, reverberating off the walls and waking the entire household, who were normally, 'dead to the world,' so to speak, at this time of the day. Ragon however had not been asleep, he should have been but instead he was sitting in Bell's room: thinking. He moved quickly at the noise, searching for the source of the disturbance, until he realised finally that it was the home phone.
"Hello. It's Dr Ring from the critical care ward at Mercy West, I am calling about Bell," the voice said into the receiver.
Ragon's eyes opened wide, his breathing shallow; she can't be dead.
"Hello? Are you there?" the voice asked, hearing the silence.
"What? Yes. What's happened?" Ragon asked quickly, blurring through the house.
"I have got some good news. Bell has come out of the coma; if you would like to come and see her, she should be responsive," the doctor said.
Ragon reached one shaky hand to the curtains, drawing them open for only a moment before closing them quickly. In that short time his arm had instantly blistered, his flesh writhing in the sunlight.
"I will be there as soon as possible," Ragon said, hanging up the phone and glaring at the curtains.
Ragon had had to wait until five pm before he could risk leaving the house. A few times he had tried to drive the car to the hospital, quickly racing from the house, to the garage, and speeding along the back streets. Even with the ultra UV protection option he had elected for his car, it was not enough to allow him to drive during the day in this climate. On the third attempt, after making it a full five minutes in the car he gave up and decided to wait until the sun relinquished. Each attempt, though not being enough to seriously harm him, was sufficient to rob him of his strength and by the time it was finally dark, he was starving.
He had not told Clyde or the others that Bell was awake. He knew that it was selfish but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to be alone with her, to tell her that everything would be ok; he didn't want to share her with anyone. When finally his car pulled into the hospital parking lot he burst through the doors and moved as fast as humanly possible towards her room. When he was almost there, quiet voices met his ears and he paused momentarily to listen.
"So you can't remember anything?" A male voice was asking.
"No, nothing," Bell said and Ragon smiled at the sound of her voice from behind the door.
"Amnesia is common with injuries such as these," a female with a distinctively medical air said.
"I'm sorry," the man said. "It's just; you're the 10th, 24 year old female to be attacked in Brisbane city in the last few weeks and the first one to survive. I don't want to push you but..."
At these words Ragon had burst into the room, interrupting the man who was speaking. Ragon's eyes darted from the female doctor, who was standing in the corner of the room, to a tall young man who had a small note pad and pen in his hands and then finally to Bell. He was confused to see the surprised look on all of their faces, but moved quickly to stand protectively by her.
Bell, who was propped up on a pillow in the hospital bed, was looking at Ragon in shock. Her thoughts were interrupted however when a loud cough caught everyone's attention and both Ragon and Bell turned to face the police officer.
Officer Ryans, as he had introduced himself, looked to be about 29. He was tall and thin with a strong frame, wavy blonde hair, a long face and brown eyes.
