The Tenth Order Read Online Free

Hunter had nightmares.
    Blood and gristle fell from the corpse, slowly revealing a squashed nose and overbite…Adrianna. Her skin was ice, but her eyes were still warm and brown and watched Hunter intently as he went about his work.
    She opened her mouth and the whispered, buzzing sound Mrs. Munse repeated that morning spilled from Adrianna’s lips. He was sure he recognized it. Welsh? Some kind of African dialect?
    The syllables danced through Hunter’s head, teasing, cajoling, the meaning on the tip of his tongue. Then Adrianna’s hand shot up, wrapping around his throat. He clawed at her knuckles, staggering backward and sending his instruments crashing to the floor. Adrianna moved smoothly from the table to her feet, forcing Hunter back toward the wall. He slashed at her bloated face, but his scalpel left no mark. The foreign words continued to dance through his mind, so close, so close.
    There. That word again— legion . But the rest slipped his grasp, like water through a sieve.
    Hunter’s fingers scrabbled against Adrianna’s hand, but he might have been clawing stone for all the good it did. Blackness flickered in the corner of his vision, threatening to blot out Adrianna’s face. Legion , floated through the air and Hunter felt himself give way to the darkness. Then another word broke through, and suddenly he made sense of what Adrianna kept repeating.
    “We are legion,” she said. “We are many.”
    Hunter roared, throwing everything he had against her implacable grip, and Adrianna’s hand tore away with a wet rip. His vision fragmented and he found himself back in his hospital bed, the restraints a twisted mass of Velcro on the floor.
    He didn’t hesitate.
    Throwing the sheets aside, he lowered himself to the cold vinyl floor. The clock on the wall read two A.M. As he started to move toward the door, Hunter almost tripped on a foot sticking out from under his bed. Leaning down, he traced the foot to the body of a young nurse he’d seen earlier; a stocky, blond woman in her late thirties. Angry red welts ran up and down her neck.
    Hunter hoped he hadn’t hurt the poor lady, but he didn’t have time to apologize. Creeping to the door, he peered out the small window, saw an empty corridor, and slipped into the dimly lit hall. As he walked— slowly, no need to make anyone stare —his hand slipped backward and closed his gown. He prayed the halls would stay empty, and thanked whatever god was watching he hadn’t been transferred to the psych ward.
    Just a few feet down the hall was a door marked “Employee’s Only.” He looked through the window, his heart leaping when he saw a laundry room inside. In the center of the room, a pile of dark blue scrubs waited to be washed. He looked quickly over both shoulders, ducked inside the room and grabbed the first pair in the pile. He would have preferred jeans and a hoodie, but hospital garb would have to do. He went through three pairs before he finally found a set of scrubs and some worn sneakers that fit his tall frame. Squaring his shoulders, Hunter gathered his courage and marched back through the door to the hallway.
    Easy. Easy, now. Just act like you belong.
    He marched past the reception table and pushed open the door to the stairs. Hopping down the two flights, he was out the front entrance before the nurses even made it to his room.
    At least, he hoped so.
    As Hunter reached the street he hesitated, sacrificing precious minutes as he tried to gather his bearings. He’d lived in Denver for seven years but had never taken the time to learn the place, despite promising Adrianna he would try. He’d spent most of his life traveling mountain towns on the western slope of the Rockies, and later the eastern plains. He never had time for the larger cities, couldn’t bring himself to care. Hell, every street in Denver looked the same to him.
    Finally, Hunter shrugged his shoulders and picked a direction at random, trusting to fate. The fickle bitch got