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.
“Security can’t stop them. Security probably didn’t even see them,” Meaty said.
“And the Shadows?” Gina asked. I was embarrassed now that I’d hoped they might save me, when it’d been so obvious in Pediatrics that they only held me in contempt.
Meaty opened up thick hands, facing their palms to the ceiling. “Not their business, really.”
I stood there. I could breathe now, but my heart would not stop racing and my whole throat burned. “What do I do? What will they do to me? What the hell was that thing?”
Gina looked away. Charles’s face was grim.
“You stay till Paul gets in this morning,” Meaty said. “He’s the social worker. He can give you some contacts—”
The rest of my brief life flashed before my eyes. “Am I running away?”
Meaty snorted. “Running from a Hound? No. You’re going to court.”
Chapter Twenty
I tried to be helpful for the rest of the night. I really did. But the vampire parade had robbed me of some of my enthusiasm. It was hard not to be worried about the future when it seemed I had so little of it left.
I stayed strong until shift change. I couldn’t leave the floor just yet—I needed to wait for the social worker, who didn’t get in till eight. Plus the locker room would be full of incoming day shifters. I’d be safest if I just hid in an empty room until seven-thirty. I ducked into room five.
The blinds were drawn, and the room was black, except for the dim light of a monitor in standby mode. I walked across the room, reaching for the shelf I knew would be there, and managed to brace myself against it before I sobbed. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, breathing in the pungent mix of floor wax and something else, trying to keep from completely breaking down.
“I think I hear a ghost.”
I whirled around. There was a patient in the bed. I could only see his outline now that my eyes had adjusted. “I’m sorry, I—I thought this room was empty.”
“Only in a manner of speaking. I take it you’re not my nurse today?”
I shook my head, wondering if he could see me. “No. I’m not—I should be going—”
“You can stay if you’d like.”
If he was a daytimer, he’d have had an isolation cart outside. I wasn’t in any immediate danger. “Thanks.” I ran the back of my hand over my face, mopping up my tears.
