Alicia and I took our places on either side of him. She had the side with the IV, and she took his hand gently. I had the one with the sling, so I didn’t touch him at all.

“Layla wants to cooperate,” she said. “London, too. They raided the office on Genevieve Street, and found other illegal antiquities. Nelson de Wilde was shipping his clients’ work through there and picking up some very expensive stowaways on the way.”

Ray blinked.

“You got something to tell me, you can do it tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll be back with my notebook.”

There was a pause.

“We made it,” I said, trying to sound encouraging.

Ray tilted toward me, his blue eyes resting on my face. I had more to say, but it didn’t come. My breath stuck in my throat. Across the bed, I saw Alicia slowly release Ray’s hand.

“Willow and Nathaniel want to come out here, but I told them no,” she said. “Because you said no. Are you sure?” She hesitated. “To be frank, they’re out of their minds with worry.”

Ray shook his head, his IV hand rising to pull out the tube.

“Sir,” said the nurse. “Sir, you can’t do that.” She swept in, and Ray’s hand fell.

“It’s all right. Don’t talk,” said Alicia. “I’ll calm them down.”

In her face, I saw a quick, guilty evasiveness and I knew: Willow and Nathaniel weren’t communicating directly with her. They were talking to Ynez, Ray’s old girlfriend, and she was talking to Alicia. Cousin to cousin. I belong with him, Ray had said. He belonged with Nathaniel. What about with Ynez?

There was a moaning noise, and a stretcher sped by in the hall, propelled by a nurse and an orderly. The body on it, covered by a sheet, looked scarcely larger than a child’s. The moaning switched to hoarse, agonized yelps.

I wanted to rip Ray out of this place. I knew it was just a room like any other room, and that all the tubes and monitors and nurses were there to keep him and others safe, to help them heal. I knew I should be grateful that he had such good care. But a restless anger engulfed me anyway, watching him gagged and threaded with needles, his brown hair matted to his head, his thin cotton johnny wrapping his bruised chest. I wanted his old sleepy gaze back, his courtliness and his absurd questions. I wanted him through with this. Through the damage and healing. Through the raw hurt of Calvin’s death. I wanted him home, wherever home was. I wanted him whole. Just standing there motionless above him took enormous effort. It felt like someone was stripping pieces of me from the inside.

“We should go,” Alicia said quietly.