through a combination of transfusions and drugs, so while the pressure on the monitor was real for now, it wasn’t something the patient was doing on his own. You couldn’t give drugs forever; nor could you keep pouring blood through a sieve.
At his bedside another nurse had a tranquilizer gun out, aimed at the patient, ready to juice him with a dart of sedatives if he started to change again.
The day-shift charge nurse spotted me as she was coming out. “Are you going to help or just stand there?”
I shook my head hard and fast. “I just—no.”
Her eyes squinted at me. “Charles called it in—you were with him?” I nodded. “What happened?”
“Hit-and-run.” If the cop hadn’t said it, I wouldn’t have thought it—not at first. “He needs to be a No Info. Someone did this to him.” No Info was how we protected patients injured via violence—people who needed to be hidden in case more violence followed them to the hospital door.
There was a muted roar from inside the room, and the gowned doctors and nurses present all jumped back. The patient thrashed in bed, finding all the leather restraints tight in place.
“Clear!” The nurse holding the gun took a step nearer, and the medical team stopped what they were doing to give her a shot. Other nurses went to the pumps and dialed up the sedatives. Everything was quiet for a tense five seconds as staff waited to make sure they were safe to continue.
“You’ll make him a No Info, right?” I said, breaking the silence.
“Sure, fine.” The charge nurse only had eyes for what was happening inside the room, with her team, which was as it should be.
I backed away down the hall. The nurse holding down the fort at the front desk looked up from the monitor and recognized me. “Will he make it?” she asked.
If he was pissed off enough to fight, hopefully he was pissed off enough to live. “We’ll see,” I said.
I jogged out to my car, cold crawling up my shins. Thin cotton scrubs didn’t keep any cold out, or heat in— by the time I made it to my little Chevy I was freezing. I cranked the engine on and dialed the heat up, holding naked hands out to the vents in supplication. When I’d thawed enough to operate my vehicle, I drove home, right past the accident site. Other ignorant cars drove over the stranger’s blood, but not me. I changed lanes.
By the time I made it home I was warm, but I felt disgusting. The birdbath scrubbing I’d given myself in the bathroom sink wasn’t cutting it anymore. I could feel the sweat and grime, not to mention blood, that I was sure was still there, trapped deep in my pores. Screw a bleach bath; if I ever got paid decently, I’d install a chlorhexidine shower.
I parked close to my apartment, ran inside, and locked the door behind me. My Siamese cat Minnie came up to greet me at the door. She sniffed me, then gave a disappointed yowl—she knew I’d been consorting with dogs. “I know, I know.” As I shimmied off my clothing, German started chattering from the vicinity of my kitchen’s countertop bar, from Grandfather’s CD player.
“Not you too.” It’d been a while since he’d last spoken to me, not that I ever knew what he was saying. I’d picked him up from a patient—or rather, he’d picked me out—and he only spoke German, a language I didn’t comprehend. He lived in a CD player that didn’t have a CD in it or batteries. I didn’t want to say he was a ghost … but I didn’t know what else he could be. Mostly I knew how he was feeling by his tone. Today it sounded like I was in trouble.
“I missed you too, Grandfather.” I patted his player. The lid didn’t sit right, but the structural integrity wasn’t important. He said something else that sounded snippy, and his on-light went to yellow.
“I didn’t do anything bad, honest.” I tossed my scrubs and coat into a trash bag. I’d be down one good bra until I laundered everything, dammit—but laundry could wait until after I’d showered.
I went into my bathroom and cranked the shower up to scalding, flicking my hand under it while I waited for the water to heat. Once I was under it, the hot water calmed me down. I concentrated on scrubbing myself clean, each and every part, more so than I usually bothered to, even after taking care of that one patient with active TB.
When I emerged, pink and dewy, I became aware of a vortex of cold air rushing in from beneath the door, trumping my bathroom’s jungly shower clime. Plus—I heard Grandfather talking to himself again outside, sounding extremely displeased. It was December, and I knew I hadn’t left any windows open—
Old Edie would have naively walked out into her living room, wondering what’d happened. New Edie sashed her robe tight, grabbed the toilet plunger to hold it like a club, and listened at the bathroom door before opening it.
CHAPTER FIVE
My apartment was small. My bathroom was across from my bedroom—I opened the door quietly, and peeked into the dark room, before hearing someone talking in my living room.
“Really now, the things you say,” said a female voice. The German invectives continued.
I ran down the hall and leapt into my living room, the plunger held high. “Who’s there?”
By the dim light of my reading lamp, I could see a young blond girl kneeling beside my couch. It took me a second to recognize her—Anna looked much older than when we’d last seen each other, ten days ago. Sweet sixteen was what the songs said, but what sixteen-year-old had ever thought that about themselves? She was playing tug-of-war with Minnie, using a piece of ribbon. She looked from the plunger to me and smiled, showing tiny triangles of fang.
She looked almost human, because she was. Kind of. Anna was a living vampire, the child of two daytimer parents, a vampire freak of nature, the girl whose life I’d helped to save.
Even though she was a vampire, I couldn’t help it—I was damn happy to see her. I went in for a hug.
“Put the stake down!” said a male voice from my kitchen.
“What?” I heard the sound of a gun being cocked.
“Gideon!” Anna chastised sharply. “It’s okay.”
“It’s okay? There’s a man in my kitchen with a gun.” I stood there, mid-lunge, holding my toilet plunger like a wizard’s wand.
“I’m sorry, Edie—” Anna waved at the man. “Gideon, please.”
The man, who was dressed so darkly I could barely differentiate him from my cabinets, let the gun slide release, tilting the gun’s barrel down.
“Thank you,” Anna said, nodding to him before looking back to me. Our huggy moment was gone. I set the plunger down.
“How’d you get in?”
“You invited me.”
Back when she had looked nine, yes, I had. “But the door was locked.”
“Gideon has many talents.”
“You couldn’t wait outside? Call? Knock?”
“We did knock. You didn’t hear us. Well, that German-speaking thing you keep did.”
“I was in the shower.” Grandfather was quiet now—but I felt slightly safer with him still on my kitchen counter, between Gideon and me. Grandfather would say something if that guy came any closer. I closed the neck of my robe tighter and sat on the far end of my couch. “When did you get all old?”
She smiled. “Once they started to feed me decently. I can control it, some.”
Anna looked like a student from a goth boarding school. A black clip held back her frizzy blond bangs, tamed for the first time since I’d met her, and she had a maroon turtleneck on, a pocket watch strung on a gold chain around her neck. A thick black felt skirt went down to her knees, where maroon tights began, sinking into warm winter boots. Most of the times I’d seen her before this, she’d been angry, wearing a ratty nightgown that had been spattered with other people’s blood.
“You look good,” I said, with a nod.
“I’m staying with Sike. She lets me borrow clothing.” Sike was a model acquaintance of us both. She was a daytimer, the servant of a vampire both Anna and I knew, and she’d be as comfortable stabbing someone with a
