“What the—” I gasped and took a step forward. Charles shook his head violently, from side to side. But—I mouthed over to him, wordlessly. His head continued to shake.
The prayer leader walked forward and made a fast slice down the patient’s right arm, cutting through wrist and restraint alike. He walked over to the left side of the bed, and cut it too in the exact same way. Then Charles and Meaty kicked tan plastic tubs we used for bed baths out from under the bed. Blood spattered down from the wounds into these, sounding like an old man’s sputtering stream.
Was this vampire dying? A sacrifice? A ritual? It didn’t matter what Charles said, or what Meaty allowed—this was insane. The blue line on the monitor for oxygen saturation went to zero. I’d already taken a step forward when I saw the patient smile.
The vampires surrounding the bed, who’d been so wordy before, were now quiet, one and all. I would say they sighed with relief, but that’d be showing too much emotion for them. They seemed … content. The wrist wounds began to heal themselves up, like they were going back in time—I halfway expected the restraints to float up and reseal around him. As the exiting blood began to ebb, their leader picked up the nearest basin and held it to his mouth. It was awkward, the tubs weren’t meant to drink from—blood sloshed on either side of his mouth and made a double trail down his chin onto his collar, leaving dark stains down his shirt. When he was done he passed it along to the next vampire in line, who also drank with casual disregard. I stood still, stunned—and then Meaty and Charles rushed forward and put new restraints on the man.
“Edie—there’s two pints left in the fridge. Go get them, will you?” Meaty asked, and began to unwrap a feeding tube. Charles was putting a second set of cuffs on the patient, on all limbs. “Edie?”
“On it!” I ran outside in my gown, unlocked the fridge, and yanked out two bags of blood. By the time I got back, the patient was seizing again. Meaty was shoving the feeding tube into the patient’s nose as fast as possible, from an arm’s length away. Charles took the blood from me and strung it up, then connected it to the end of the feeding tube’s line.
Teeth erupted out of the patient’s mouth, and he shrieked aloud, a sound like a locomotive in heat. I stepped back. “Jesus—” The visitors nearest me turned to glare. The level of blood in the hung bag visibly lowered, as the power of gravity and an ethereal hunger drew it into the patient’s stomach. His teeth retracted, and he lay back again, quiescent.
The leader of the visiting group nodded at this. “The ceremony has been performed to our satisfaction.” He turned toward Meaty. “As always, the Rose Throne appreciates your cooperation.”
Meaty took a step away from the patient. “Thanks. We’ll bill you later.”
The leader snorted lightly. “We will retrieve him in three nights.”
Meaty nodded, and the gore-stained country club exited the room, one by one. I waved at Gaius through the window. He tilted his head at me, my badge glowed again, and then he waved stiffly back.
Charles stood beside the bed, arms crossed, second pint at the ready.
“So what the hell was that?”
He grinned, but he didn’t take his eyes off the draining original bag. “Your first vampire baby shower.”
I felt my eyebrows reach an improbable height on my forehead. “Could you define that? The baby or the shower part?”
“It’s like an angel earning its wings, only with more blood. Someone decided he was important enough to keep around. Forever. Lord and silver willing,” Charles said, making a cross over his chest. “Get the tranquilizer gun, will you? I’ve put it behind the door.”
I nodded, and closed the door. Sure enough, it was balanced in the corner, stock down. I picked it up and put the butt against my shoulder. The safety was off—down here, the safeties were never, ever on.
“Remember: him, not me,” Charles said, gingerly taking a step forward.
I took a step closer, trying to compensate for poor aim by sheer nearness. I kept the gun trained on the vampire patient’s chest.
“So all of those”—I glanced up at the ghosts of packed red blood cells above us, empty plastic bags tinged pink with the dregs of blood inside—“were vampire blood? Full vampire blood?”
“Mixed with Haldol, yeah.” Charles laced up the next pint of blood. The resting patient snarled when Charles came near, but didn’t otherwise react. “This guy’s been a loyal daytimer for the Rose Throne for who knows how long. Somehow, doing something, he earned a full blood transfusion. We presedated, perisedated, and are postsedating him, but—” He pointed at me and indicated the gun.
“Sure.” Who had a job that required mandatory time practicing at a gun range? I did. At least the County paid for ammo. I’d only been to the range twice so far. I moved to have a better view of the patient’s chest. At point-blank range like this, I hoped I couldn’t miss. The darts here were packed full of suxamethonium chloride and propofol—“sux” and Diprivan—two of the most powerful, fast-acting sedatives known to man. And also, apparently, vampires. I frowned. “You sure meds still work on him?”
“For now they will. By the time they don’t, he’ll be fully transformed back home in a coffin at the vampire ranch.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “So he’s not a full vampire yet?”
“No. But he will be, once everything assimilates. It’s half genetics, half brute strength. In some ways, vampirism is like a progressive disease, and in doing this, we force its hand. On his own, it could have taken decades to drink as much elder blood as we gave him, assuming there were that many willing local old ones. We bank blood for them now, for just these sorts of occasions. It’s why they come here. The Shadows protect the communal supply, for the Thrones that choose to participate, and those Thrones create the demand.”
“Who decides which and when?”
“The Thrones write up requisitions, they give them to our social workers, and then our doctors write orders and give them to us.”
“So why this?” I asked, gesturing to the blood going into the feeding tube with the end of the gun. Holding this stance, my arms were starting to get tired.
“They wake up hungry and strong.” Charles circled around the perimeter of the room. “Assuming they survive. They don’t always. Sometimes we get this far, and they just can’t make the jump. That’s the genetic part.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then they go into shock and the vampires put them down.”
My lips parted, in either fascination or disgust, I wasn’t sure. “How?”
Charles made a V with two fingers and pointed at his own mouth, where he was missing fangs. “Waste not, want not.”
“Well. Wow.” I was glad I hadn’t seen that. I wondered what my reaction would have been if I’d walked into a room where Charles and Meaty were watching vampire guests feast on a restrained patient. I shuddered. Blood in chilled bags and capped vials was one thing—seeing it spilled out was another, and seeing other people drink it was yet a third. I remembered Anna sucking on my hand, and hoped I’d never see anything like that again. I wondered if that’s why I’d seen her in my dreams, on a boat. Metaphorically, she was like a shark that’d bitten me. No wonder my subconscious was afraid of her.
“Anyhow, the rest of tonight should be easy,” Charles said, pulling a full syringe out of his pocket to show me. “I’ve got orders on Ativan like you wouldn’t believe.”
I laughed, and handed him the stock of the gun. “Happy hunting.”
Chapter Eighteen
When I emerged onto the floor, Meaty was looking around the nursing station. All the shift’s paperwork had been done and filed, courtesy of me, Extra Help Edie.
“Good job, Spence,” Meaty said. “Go on break.”
I saluted, pleased with myself, and set off.
I badged myself into our locker room/bathroom combo area. I didn’t have to go to the bathroom, but anyone who didn’t wash their hands before eating in a hospital was
a fool. I turned on the faucet to wash my hands and face.
The sound of the water—I knew that sound. I saw it running in front of me, hot steam wafting up, but in my mind my vision of the bathroom blurred, and I saw freezing snow melt trickling down cement. I was cold, and there was no way I could get warm. Stagnation surrounded me, other things that’d washed into the gutter, rotting in the dark.
I wanted to throw up. My stomach lurched and broke the spell. I slammed the faucet off and clutched the edge of the sink. I had that sense of lostness, looking out at the ocean again, trapped by the endless nothing around me, immobilized by a fear … that I didn’t feel was quite my own.
“Anna?” I whispered. My right hand found my left and traced along its scar. “That’s silly. You know it is. You’re okay,” I told myself.
You don’t just get to be a nurse and see sad and strange all the time and not have it affect you. I knew stress came out in different ways. I’d give any patient I ever had more leeway than I’d given my recent self. I’d been attacked and bitten less than a week ago. And I’d just seen us pour two gallons of blood, easily, into a man, and then seen ten or so vampires drink it back out. Things like that just don’t come normal to people. It’s okay to have some problems afterward. Nightmares, even.
I stood there wondering who exactly I was convincing with this line of thought until the strange feeling passed. When it did, I turned away. I hadn’t washed my hands yet, but that’s what hand sanitizer was for.
Chapter Nineteen
It seemed like there was a lot more air in the locker room hallway. I stood and breathed, went for the next door, and was surprised to find visitors waiting outside.
I could only see three male faces—the fourth entity was shrouded in a robe and hood. All of them were vampires. I knew because even though we were all in the same hallway together, I felt completely alone. None of the companionship of shared humanity radiated off them, no warmth, no joy, no love—no hate or disgust or indignity either. Being near them was like being near a black hole—even without taking blood, they were lapping at the edges of the life I possessed, spinning it away.
“Um—the visitor bathroom is upstairs,” I said, pointing to the elevator as the locker room door snicked shut behind me.
“We are here for Edith Spence,” the one nearest to me said. He was classically beautiful, with long dark brown hair, narrow chin, and long nose. Eyes as green as grass.
No one had called me Edith since my grandma had died. “And you are?” I asked.
“Dren.” He took a step closer. He was wearing a black duster cut in an old-fashioned way, narrow-waisted, calf-length. He wasn’t threatening yet, but I felt he could be. The others behind him clearly were—two of them were dragging the fourth one forward by leashes made of dual silver chains. On its lanyard around my neck, my badge began to glow, stronger than I had ever see it glow before.
“Edith Spence, I presume?” he asked again, and I nodded. “You have been summoned to a tribunal. We are taking you into custody now.” He watched me, waiting for a reaction. I firmed my resolve not to give him any.
“Why?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Apparently you managed to kill a vampire,” he responded, looking me up and down. “I have to admit I’m curious how you did it.” There was a glint of emotion in his eyes. He looked long used to disappointment, but just then, I saw a spark of hope. Why?
The doors to Y4 thunked open. “Hey, Edie—I need help—holy shit,” I heard Gina say in a rush behind me. Then she yelled, “Meaty!”
The doors didn’t even have a chance to close before Meaty burst through them. “It’s past visiting hours. Get out,” Meaty said at once.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more—the fact that the ones in the rear were jerking on the bound person’s chains, or the fact that they ignored Meaty.
“She’s been summoned. We’re taking her into custody until the darkest night.” Dren pushed his coat aside, hooking his thumb into a leather belt that held a gold sicklelike weapon, bound against his hip. His action seemed meaningful, like a cop putting a hand on a holstered gun. “If you’re her friend, you will procure her legal representation immediately.”
“But—” I began.
“Edie, be quiet,” Meaty said, moving to stand between them and me.
Some internal meter for patience in the rear guard ran down. They were stepping forward now, making the silver chains dance like wind-ripped spiderwebs, yanking the bound one along. I decided that it wasn’t a person, as it hobbled forward awkwardly, lurching from side to side, its brown robes dragging on the tile.
“As you may or may not be aware,” Dren continued, for Meaty’s benefit, “she’s recently killed a vampire. A tribunal has been summoned on the darkest night to determine her fate.”
I hadn’t really thought about the vampire since I’d killed him. Or rather, any time I had thought about him, I’d done my best to try not to. I could still remember the look in his eyes … as they’d turned into dust and poured out of his head. My stomach churned again.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
Dren’s eyebrows rose. “So you admit your guilt?”
“She admits nothing,” Meaty said, giving me a glare. “She’s a registered noncombatant.”
Dren gave a soft laugh. “She lost that status when she killed a vampire.” He tilted his head toward me in a genteel fashion. “Unfortunately for Miss Spence, a mere apology won’t be good enough.”
The other vampires were crowding closer now, and I still couldn’t see the hooded thing’s eyes. Fear pushed the stomach acid higher in my throat, and I tried to fight it down.
“I released a captive girl,” I said, taking a step nearer to Meaty’s back for strength.
“There was no captive girl,” Dren said.
“Yes, there—”
“We know nothing of her,” he said, cutting me off. “And if there was, how do we know you didn’t kill her as well? There is only your word, which, at the moment, is not good for much.”
“You cannot take a nurse,” Meaty said, arms thrown wide.
“But we are.” Dren stroked his sickle openly. The rear two reached out and unfurled the final one’s cloak away, like splitting a cocoon.
Underneath was a creature no one should ever have to see. It had two arms and two legs, but they were misshapen—the legs nearly skeletal, leading down into feet with birdlike claws. The arms were shriveled, contracted in toward one another, meeting in front of its torso, which had the bloated shape of someone with end-stage liver cancer, distended skin stretched tight. Its head was long, like a pony’s or large dog’s, and at the end of its nose nostrils flared eagerly. Its skin was dark and rough—I wanted it to be reptilian, but it wasn’t. Neither were the eyes set wide and high at the bridge of its nose. They were light-colored and recognizably human. It was like a creature out of a surrealistic painting, a Bosch come to life.
“What is that?” I whispered to Meaty.
“That’s a Hound, and Dren’s a Husker,” Meaty whispered back.
Then I wanted to ask, “What’s a Husker?” but the answer was obvious. One who husked things. Probably with that sickle.
The silver leashes wrapped around the creature’s neck caused it pain—I could see the deep groove of scar tissue left by their passage. Its head strained forward, sniffing the air over Dren’s left shoulder, and its lips pulled back to reveal rows of sharp yellow teeth. The look in the two vampire handlers’ eyes begged me to run, so that this monstrous thing might chase me down.
I closed my eyes and huddled against Meaty’s back. Custody sounded like something I wanted no part of. Maybe Anna’d been in “custody” too.
“If you take her, our staffing will be noncompliant, which is illegal according to the terms of our contracts with the Consortium.”
Hidden behind Meaty, I blinked.
“Find another nurse,” Dren said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
“We run a tight
ship here, you know that. And you’re not the only supernatural group that we have legally binding contracts with. Just because the vampires are mad at Edie doesn’t mean we can underserve the were or shapeshifter populations. Patient abandonment is a punishable offense—the Consortium takes it very seriously. If we lose our accreditation…” Meaty said without finishing the sentence.
There was a long silence, during which I could only hear the Hound’s talons clacking against the tile floor as it waddled in place, trying to escape each silver band in turn. “Then we will take her when her shift is over,” Dren said.
“She’s scheduled solid through the end of next week,” Meaty said. “It isn’t like she can escape your summons. With the Hound, you’ve seen to that.” Meaty reached back and took my hand, bringing me forward.
I couldn’t meet Dren’s eyes—but I could see his hand clenched tight on the hilt of his sickle. Vampires weren’t used to being thwarted, especially not by anything as lowly as mandatory staffing ratios and insurance companies. I stared at his shadow instead, cast back behind him on the floor like a bloodstain, hoping that Shadows might rise out of it and save me.
“Then,” he began, and there was the tension of strict control in his voice, “we will expect you on the darkest night, Miss Spence. We will summon you again and you will not refuse.”
I could do nothing but nod.
“Now, get out,” Meaty said, walking forward.
“You have until the darkest night,” Dren repeated. The vampires behind him were yanking the Hound backward on its chains.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. Get out, assholes.” Meaty pointed toward the elevator shaft behind them. The elevator’s doors opened. Dren made a mockery of a bow, and then as one, they turned and left the floor.
“Why do we even have security?” Gina said aloud as soon as we were back in Y4.
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