Eyla had always hated hospitals. It was something about the smell of sickness and dying that permeated the whole place, the cheerful colours and flowers in sick rooms was all fakery to her.
She stood outside Warren’s sick room, feeling the nerves bubbling in her stomach. She forced herself to step inside.
There were huge machines crowded round the bed that Warren was laid upon with tubes sticking in and out of his body.
Eyla stared for what seemed like a long time at him before advancing. His head turned slightly and he smiled.
“Hello Eyla,” he greeted in a croaky voice, like he hadn’t been able to use it often. “How are you and Samson?” he asked, eager for good answers.
“Me and Samson are fine especially that is a week since Halloween,” she said. She sat in the visitor’s chair beside him. “How are you?”
“I’m good considering,” he replied. “Internal bleeding that was patched up, I had to have a blood transfusion so I’m pumped up full of new blood. Also I have these cool stitches but they itch like hell.” He laughed and clutched his stomach in pain.
“I’m so sorry Warren,” Eyla said, the words hard to form and tears escaped her eyes.
“Hey don’t cry Eyla, it was not your fault it happens. Sometimes a demon is very strong and determined to have the soul it desires. Such as the son of a bitch you cut down.”
Eyla wiped her eyes. “Yeah I guess.”
He clicked a button and the bed hummed as he was lifted up into a sitting position. He peered closer and saw a ravage burn mark on Eyla’s hand that wrapped around the back of her hand and fingers.
“You were burned by the knife weren’t you? I can see its mark,” he said, pointing to it. Her hand touched it immediately at the mention of it. “That mark will mean that you can see the demons now, they can never hide from you like before or only reveal themselves to you when they feel like it.”
“Does that mean I am still in danger? That Samson is in danger?” she asked, sounding very scared.
He shook his head. “Not necessarily. You and Samson will have the same mark on your hand that will mark you out. So will all your ancestors from now on.” He rolled up his sleeve revealing a burn mark on his arm. “This was from an ancestor of mine who used that knife.” He pulled the sleeve over it again.
“Can Samson not live a normal life?” Eyla asked, feeling angered by the idea that her son’s life was still full of such dangers.
“He can live a fairly normal life although you must tell him about what happened, why he can see the monsters that no one else can, just like my father did for me. Do not worry my brother lives a normal life and he is marked like me, I just chose this type of life because I wanted to.”
Eyla’s tense shoulders relaxed as relief overcame her.
“We can live a normal life, almost a normal life,” she said, smiling properly for the first time, the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “Thank you Warren.”
“That’s okay Eyla,” he said, smiling back.
She got up to leave.
“Eyla,” he said. She stopped to look at him. “Contact me if you need any help or someone else does I am always here. Beware of the monsters,” he said, with the genuine concern of a friend.
“I will,” she replied, and bid him farewell.