Nightshifted

waiting for a chance to be set free. I shivered, much as Mr. Galeman had, then I gathered myself and my thoughts. I still had one patient left.

I remembered to knock before opening Ti’s door for once.

“Come in,” Ti said. He was out of bed, wearing normal clothing, wandering around the room with a patient- belongings bag in his hand. He wore jeans and a T-shirt—Y4 was temperature controlled—and I couldn’t help noticing how snugly his shirt fit against his muscular arms. I shook my head at myself—patients should never be out of gowns. It made it hard to remember what team they were on.

“Packing?”

“I’m getting out tomorrow.”

I turned from side to side to look at the confines of his small room. He’d already taken the pictures of his firefighting crew off the wall. “Getting out? What, this is prison?”

He paused and grinned at me. “After a month? It feels a little similar.”

“The County-approved term is ‘being discharged,’” I said, making air quotes around the word.

“Then I’m ‘being discharged’ tomorrow, oh ‘difficult nurse,’” he said, making my gesture twice back at me. “You’re in a good mood. Someone feed you?” he asked, glancing at me out of the corner of one eye.

Well, that was a random question. “Um. I had a turkey sandwich on my way in, and I’ve got another for late dinner—”

He stopped picking things up entirely and stared at me for a second. And then he laughed out loud, a melodious sound.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

“I—I thought you were a vampire the other night. I just assumed. You didn’t act like one really, but maybe you were new—”

“Heh!” My current life might be easier if I were, but Mr. Galeman didn’t look that edible to me. “No, I’m human. Totally, fallibly human.”

“I thought so at first. Then I thought my teller wasn’t telling so good,” he said, tapping his healing forehead. “So who was the vial of blood for, then?”

I considered telling him. It’d be nice to get everything off my chest. But—it wasn’t my place to share, or his place to have to listen. I inhaled and shook my head before exhaling. “You’re a patient. I try to make a practice of not sharing personal stuff with patients.”

Ti looked pointedly at the clock above the door. “I’m only a patient for a few more hours.” He walked around me, pulled out his visitor chair, and then went back to sit on his bed. “I’ve got some time to kill. And I’m already dead.”

I snorted at his bad joke, and then looked at him. He was serious. Maybe if I said it all at once, it’d sound less crazy. I looked over my shoulder to the open door behind me, and reached one hand back to shut it closed.

“It was for a friend. Who is a vampire,” I began. I looked past him, into the shadows his monitor cast on the wall, and wondered if the Shadows were listening in—though it wasn’t like they’d help me or Anna if they were.

“And your friend—is he in trouble?”

“She’s in trouble,” I corrected. “And I can’t find her.”

“Want to tell me the story?”

“Nurse-patient privilege. I can’t.”

His amber eyes scanned over me. “Miss Spence, if a vampire wants to find you, they will. It’s a talent they have.”

“Not if they’ve been kidnapped.” I looked up at him and found him staring straight at me. His golden eyes were thoughtful, set against his rippling dark-pool skin. I quickly looked down again, and then thought, What if he thinks I’m not looking at him because of the scars?—when I knew that wasn’t true. I tried to bring my gaze up, but he was still looking at me, and even though I knew it had nothing to do with the scars, and everything to do with the awkwardness of feeling someone else’s focused attention, I tried not to look away. I inhaled and pressed on. “I have to find her.”

“Why?”

I grimaced. Because if I don’t, I’ll be dead? I ignored his question and tried a different tack.

“Is being a zombie better than being dead?”

Ti pondered this and then answered, “I doubt it.”

“Ah, well,” I said, then I stood up. “Anyhow—you’ve got things to pack—”

He leaned forward to stand, I thought to see me out. But instead he seemed to come to a decision, like a light switch flicked on inside of him. “I know someone who might be able to help find your friend. Do you have something that smells like her?”

I nodded. I hadn’t even begun to think about how I was going to get her tears off my good coat. And I still had Yuri’s shirt, the one she’d cried on. “Who—and how?”

“Firefighter-friend privilege,” he said with a grin. “How can I get in touch with you?”

“Why would you want to get involved?”

“It’s what I do. I’m Bruce Banner, remember?”

“No one’s just good for goodness’ sake. I don’t believe in Santa and neither do you.” I crossed my arms.

Ti grinned. “Maybe because I’d like to take you to a movie sometime. It’d be harder to do if you were dead. Not impossible, but probably less fun.”

I stared at him. I’d never had a sober patient ask me out before. Much less someone whose name and health history I already knew. Mind you, he was a scarred-up zombie … but at least he wasn’t a doctor.

“You promise not to throw flowers at my car?” I asked.

“I swear,” he said, solemnly crossing his chest without asking why. He looked serious. He seemed serious. And I always had a pen in my breast pocket at work. I wrote my phone number on a piece of paper and handed it over to him.

“All right. Help me out and it’s a deal.”

*   *   *

I ignored Ti’s room for the rest of the night—anything else I could say would seem anticlimactic. But Mr. Galeman kept me busy—his crit wasn’t low anymore, but all his other electrolytes were out of whack, booze not being the most nutritious diet. I replaced his potassium and phosphates all night long.

Gina rolled by while I was drawing up a syringe of magnesium, and ribbed me some about “Mr. Smith,” but I ignored it.

“Everything all right, Spence?” Meaty asked when I came back to the main station at the end of the night to finish up my notes.

I was deeply tired of Meaty asking me that. But as I looked up to glare, I realized that Meaty really meant it. Our charge nurse didn’t have many social graces, and asking “Everything all right, Spence?” was a way of saying “Hi, how are you?” or “What’s going on today?” and not meant to be overbearing or always checking in. At least not all of the time.

“I’m meeting with my lawyer when this shift ends, in an exceedingly nice area of town.” My little Chevy would definitely be out of place there.

“And what’s his plan?”

“Don’t know yet. I’ll know more tomorrow night, though.”

“You need some time off?”

I thought of Jake and shook my head. “Not yet.”

Meaty’s heavy eyelids lowered in disbelief. “All right. But let me know if that changes, okay?”

“Will do.” I dove back into my charts and wrote exceptionally thorough notes until Meaty turned away.

*   *   *

I thought about stepping into Ti’s room to say good-bye before I left, then thought better of it. If he’d call, he’d call. If not, I was better off not embarrassing myself. In the locker room I switched into clean scrubs, said good-bye to Gina and Charles, then stepped into the elevator alone.

I hate our elevator. It’s not just that it always smells like pee. It “takes off” and “lands” like an elevator