Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 by Elizabeth Owens Page A

horrific karma.
    People were fluttering around her like curtains, shoving needles into her arms, applying cold compresses to her head. They drew blood, then ran off with the specimen. Unexpectedly, she saw a friendly face, Chloe, standing behind the action around her bed. She could see her at a distance, in  between the bodies circulating around.
    “Chloe.” Nightingale whispered the name. “Chloe.”
    And then it was gone.
    The pain left her head as quickly as it had entered. It was just—gone. Nightingale looked at the doctor and attendants with wide eyes, mystified.
    “It’s gone.”
    “What’s gone?” a nurse asked.
    “The pain. It’s gone. All gone. Nothing.”
    The doctor took interest in her statement . “Where does it hurt now?”
    “Nowhere. It’s gone.”
    “Gone? Just like that?”
    “Yes.”
    “That can’t be,” a nurse said.
    Nightingale didn’t feel she needed to explain further. The pain was gone.
    “You don’t hurt anywhere?” the doctor asked.
    “No.”
    “I thought she’d had a stroke,” one nurse said.
    “Me, too,” another nurse said.
    “We’ll look at the blood work and know later,” the doctor said. “Take her to a room”
    ~~
    Nightingale was lying in a hospital bed, Chloe at her side, when the doctor entered the room several hours later. He looked both grim and puzzled, she thought, reading into his thoughts.
    “Nightingale, right?” he asked as he looked down at her chart.
    “Yes,” she answered.
    “Okay, it appears you’re just fine.”
    Nightingale looked blankly at the doctor who was supposed to know so much about medicine.
    “I thought I was having a stroke. The pain…”
    “Yes, it did appear that way, but the tests don’t show anything like that.” The doctor stared into her face without blinking. “You seem to be just fine, in good health.”
    “Then what was all that pain about?” Chloe butted into the conversation, realizing Nightingale was baffled.
    “I have no explanation; perhaps a severe headache.” The doctor made the next statement with obvious reluctance. “Perimenopause, perhaps.”
    “ Perimenopause? Aren’t I little young for that?” Nightingale asked, thinking, I’m only thirty-two .
    “It can happen.”
    “Okay,” Chloe interjected, “if that’s all it is, can she go home now?”
    “I don’t see why not,” the doctor said. “As long as she’s not in pain, she should be just fine.”
    “Great. I want to go home.” Nightingale was quite decisive about that issue.
    “I’ll sign the papers right now,” the doctor said.
    After he left the room, followed by the nurses, Chloe and Nightingale exchanged looks.
    “What just happened?” Chloe asked. “You were in dire pain. Now you’re fine.”
    “I have a hunch,” Nightingale answered.
    “What? Tell me.”
    “I think some bitch put a curse on me.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I gave a reading to a young woman whose mother is a voodoo priestess. The mother didn’t want her to get a reading, so I think she’s trying to make me suffer.” Nightingale pulled up the sheet closer to her chin. “As dumb as this is going to sound, there’s been a black cat watching the house—and me, ever since.”
    “ Watching you?”
    “Yes. It’s always in the same place when I look out the window or go outside. It was there when I went for my walk and was struck with that incredible pain in my head.”
    “You’ve never seen this cat before?”
    “Never.”
    “Is that what they call a familial spirit?” Chloe had never heard of an animal stalking a person.
    “I think so. I don’t know...But I don’t like it one bit.”
    “Can you get rid of it?”
    “I guess. I’ll have to do some research. Do a spiritual cleansing of my environment.”
    “Well, get out of that bed and get dressed.” Chloe said, gathering her clothes from the chair where they’d been tossed. “Let’s go home so we can deal with this pest. I’ll help you.”
    Nightingale put on her