“But—”
“Now.”
She glares and stares down at the injured woman. She must decide that she isn’t a threat, as she walks out without a word and stands in the window to watch over me. I have the cutest guardian angel. “I’m going to apply a local anesthetic.”
“Just take it out,” the pixie pleads.
“It will hurt. I really think I should numb the area first. This seems risky.”
“Please!”
She asked for it. “Okay.” I pin her down with one hand and grip the nail with the other. It offers surprisingly little resistance and pops right out of her with a sickening slurp and a loud squelch. Blood splatters onto my disposable scrubs and mask. It smells strange. Not coppery like human blood. It’s more of a sickly sweet scent, maybe lavender. If it wasn’t so strong, it’d be pleasant.
I stare at what should be a gaping wound taking out most of her intestines and uterus as I try to sort out the next step, only to see that the wound already sealed. Other than the blood on her skin, she’s in perfect condition. The rags she was wearing, however, are barely holding together and are stained blue from her blood. “Thank you.” She shudders. Recovering from that big a wound must take a lot out of her.
“We have some bandannas if you need something new to wear.” I considered offering her a surgical mask or hat, but they wouldn’t hold together as well. We keep the bandannas for boarding dogs. A lot of them seem to love wearing them for some reason. Plus, they look adorable.
“Oh, yes, please,” she squeals, sitting up on the metal table.
“Gimme a minute.” I leave her in the operating room and fetch one from the back. When I return, her eyes light up, literally, and she flutters over to me, peering up. “This is for me?”
“Those rags won’t last you much longer.”
“Oh, thank you.” She grabs it, tossing the rags on the floor and skillfully tucking the red, bone-covered bandanna in place to form a makeshift dress. “I love it!”
I throw the rags away and wipe down the table. I really need to make sure I have this place clean before I leave if I don’t want anyone asking questions. “I’m glad.” I take her up front, and one of her friends pulls a gold coin from a sack tied to her hip. It’s small, barely bigger than a dime.
“Will this cover it?” she asks.
I’m not sure when Olivia joined us, but I find her hand on my wrist. “You can’t take money from the fae.”
“It’s a fair trade,” I answer. “Not a gift. Right?”
The bandanna pixie nods enthusiastically. “Oh yes, you’ve more than earned it. Though it may be too little.”
I take the coin. “How about you clean up in here, and we’ll call it even?”
“We can do that,” she replies. Pixies aren’t exactly known for their skills in cleaning, and these do nothing to counter that, but they do a good enough job that I’m not likely to have any probing questions in the morning, and they even take out the garbage.
“Thank you, again,” she says.
Ollie stands next to me in the doorway as we watch them fly off. “All you did is take a nail out. Why would they possibly need a doctor for that?”
“None of them could have touched it. It’s iron. Maybe there wasn’t anyone else they could trust. I’m certainly not going to complain about getting more business.”
She shrugs. “I suppose. You don’t think they—”
“No, Ollie. Not everyone is working for Iago.”
“But they could be. Anyone could be. We have no way of knowing.”
I sigh. “No. We don’t. That doesn’t mean we have to treat every single client like they’re the enemy. I saw the way you kept glaring at everyone.”
“You don’t know what he’s capable of.” She takes a step toward me, scared brown eyes meeting mine. “I’m terrified about what he might do to you. I have absolutely no idea who we can trust, and at any moment, he could attack. Excuse me for being a little cautious.”
“Well this is my job.” I step forward until my eyes are level with her chin. I glare, prodding her clavicle with my index finger. “I’m not letting you scare away customers. I said you could come, and in truth, I enjoyed the company, but I need to keep my clientele and maybe gain a few more.”
“I’m sorry. I just don’t want to lose you.”
My anger diminishes somewhat at that, and I find myself smiling. “You won’t. Play nice until they give you a reason not to. Then rip out their throats or whatever it is you would do. Far be it from me to decide how best for you to murder someone.”
“I was thinking decapitation, but I didn’t bring my sword.”
“How restrained of you.” God, what would people have thought? I know she could’ve magicked them to believe otherwise, but it doesn’t look great for us to have a big scary woman with a sword in our lobby.
“Instead, I’d put a few incendiary rounds in the back of their heads.”
“Make sure it doesn’t go through and hit me.”
Before she has the chance to come up with a witty retort, hoofbeats echo down the street, heading toward my hospital. “You have another appointment?”
“That wasn’t an appointment either. I only have a nine o’clock with a nixie.”
“Oh? For what?”
“Inner ear infection.”
“That can’t be fun underwater.”
The sound grows closer, and we behold a rather horrifying sight. Something vaguely resembling a flayed centaur lumbers toward us, its single eye reflecting the streetlights, its massive maw showing sharp, fang-like teeth. Shit. It’s a nuckelavee. I can’t let it inside. Its breath could kill the couple dogs that are boarding.
Olivia’s hand dips in her coat, doubtless gripping her new pistol, but I meet her eyes, pleading. Stop trying to scare away my customers. Sure, maybe he’s working for Iago, or maybe he wants a skin transplant, I don’t know.
“Hey,” I call, waving at the creature.
“Good evening,” it bellows back, its voice rough and hoarse; if I didn’t make a pun of it, I’d be cowering in fear and standing downwind.
“What can I help you with?”
He trots up to the door, leering at us, and extends a sinewy hand. “You must be Dr. Sun. I’ve heard great things.”
It takes everything in me not to pinch my nose. They smell even worse than I’d heard. I take the proffered limb. It’s wet and not just from the water. It’s so slimy. I wish I was still wearing my surgical garb. “It’s nice to meet you. Mr.…” I trail off, waiting for him to offer a name. I’m quite confident it’s a him, as he didn’t bother to cover up his skinless horse appendage.
“Caimbeulach,” he says. That’s a hell of a name.
“Mr. Caimbeulach,” I attempt.
“I was hoping you could”—he hesitates, scratching at his neck, producing a puckering sound—“help me with my”—his voice grows quiet—“halitosis.”
“Oh!” It’s kind of a quirk of his species. Is there anything I can even do for that? “It’s not really anything I’m experienced in, but I can certainly take a look. I assume you’ve tried mints.”
“Of course I’ve tried them.” He sounds like he wants to eat me, so I avoid any other obvious suggestions.
“It could be something to do with your gastrointestinal tract or kidneys.” I barely know anything about the subject, but it would make sense. The question is, if it’s something that his body produces naturally, can we cure it without issue? Assuming we can even get him inside. “Can you fit through the door?”
He eyes it, considering. He doesn’t have depth perception, so I wonder if he can manage. “I’m not sure.”
We don’t have a portable X-ray machine. Maybe he could fit through the back, but the animals are boarded back there. “Ollie, would you take the dogs out of their cages and keep them in the lobby? I’m going to take him in through the freight door.”
It takes the better part of half an hour to finagle him into the X-ray room, but
I run some scans, and there doesn’t seem to be anything unusual about his stomach other than that it’s visible from the outside. “What do you eat?” I ask.
“Humans.”
“That’s probably not great for it. We’re full of so many gross chemicals and things that may not react that well. Are you drinking enough water?”
He recoils in shock, almost kicking the X-ray machine over. That would’ve been fun to deal with. “Are you insane?”
“Have you ever actually tried it?”
“Well, no, but it repels me. I couldn’t handle doing that.”
There’s a water cooler in the hallway, so I fetch him a paper cup. “Come on out here.” I beckon. I would rather he not back up into the machine.
He approaches hesitantly, eyeing me. “I can’t.”
“Try.”
He takes a few steps, his hooves clopping on the tile floor. “It’s unnerving.”
“I know, but you need to drink water if you want to fix your breath.”
Finally closing the distance between us, he peers at the cup, before quickly snatching it with his massive hands. His eye tears up as he pulls it to his mouth, which has to be a full meter wide. “I don’t think I can.”
“Just try it.” Worst that could happen is it kills him.
With one last shaky breath, he screws his eye shut and swallows the cup’s worth in a single gulp. A few seconds pass as nothing happens, and he slowly lifts his eyelid, peering down at me. “I’m okay?”
“You seem to be.”
“Huh.” Staring in shock at the cup, he takes a step back.
“Try to drink eight glasses of water a day, and maybe lay off the humans. If the halitosis doesn’t clear up in a few weeks, come back, and we’ll try to figure it out.”
“Okay,” he stammers. “Thank you.”
“It’s no problem.” I bill him there, not wanting to take him to the lobby where the dogs are sequestered. I didn’t think that through. He pays up and heads off into the night to make his creepy way on his own. He left blood, and I don’t even want to think about what else, all over the floor. Why couldn’t the pixies have been my second patients of the night?
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia: My Girlfriend
I wake up to find Ollie’s arm draped across me. I’m hardly going to complain, but this is a surprise. We’ve barely even cuddled, only enjoyed each other’s presence. I hold on to her arm, pressing against her, feeling her coldness, her proximity. I hate getting sentimental, but I think I really like this girl.
She stirs but doesn’t seem to wake. I risk disturbing her by resting my head on her chest and feel her arm wrap about my lower back. I guess this is happening.
I expect to feel her breathing, but instead, her chest is still. That will take some getting used to. I look up at her rapidly shifting eyelids, the slightly strained expression on her face, the sweat sticking her hair to her face. I guess that answers that question. Vampires do sweat. I knew they couldn’t be that perfect.
I start to rise only to find her clutching tighter as she releases a shuddering breath. She wasn’t even breathing a second ago, but now it’s growing rapid. She twists and rolls over, yanking me with her and pulling me on top. Her breathing slows again, then stops. I don’t even risk moving for a long moment, and simply rest my forehead against her back. Her skin is damp.
“Ollie?” I ask, slowly pulling back.
She releases me and rolls over again, taking up my side of the bed. Maybe she’s waking up. Was it a bad dream? In lieu of an answer, she remains a silent corpse, having somehow stolen all of the pillows. Greedy slut.
I stand up and run a hand through my hair. Am I supposed to wake her? I guess she wasn’t screaming or anything, but I don’t know what her dreams are normally like. How do I not know what her dreams are like? Have I never seen her sleep?
I try to think back on the last couple days. This is the third time she’s slept in my bed, and she even went to bed at the same time as me the other night, but I must’ve always fallen asleep before her and woken up after her. That’s weird to think. I wonder if vampires need less sleep. Does she even need sleep at all?
I climb into the shower, and the hot water does little to stop my thoughts. I know she has PTSD, and I know how much both Iago and humans have done to fuck her up. I’m guessing that dream was something to that effect. Is that an every night kind of thing? She’d mentioned something of the sort before, but I hadn’t realized it was this bad.
A knock rings out from the bathroom door. “It’s open.”
“Just making sure you’re okay,” she calls feebly, sounding like she’s speaking to the ground.
“Oh, can you not cross running water?”
A quick giggle. “I absolutely can. I…you’re in the shower.”
“The centuries-old lesbian is embarrassed. Forgive me, I’d assumed it was nothing you hadn’t seen before.” I consider stepping out and seeing how she reacts, but there’s still conditioner in my hair. And I suppose I’d also rather not rush the poor thing.
“I assure you, it’s not,” she manages, a faint hint of cockiness returning to her tone. “Didn’t want to presume.”
“Want to make breakfast? Maybe someone dropped it off again.”
And now my doorknob’s broken. At least, I assume that’s what that sound of wrenching metal was. If it was the towel rack, I’d be able to see her.
“You okay?”
“Don’t even joke about that. We don’t want him breaking in here, remember?”
“It’s not him. It’s a henchman. And we do want that, actually, if you’ll recall. It gives us information which we can use to track him down and figure out his plans. It’s why we have cameras. And claymores.” I guess the mines won’t help get information, but they could still be effective in their own way.
“I’ll make breakfast.”
Maybe teasing her about the man who spent decades manipulating and abusing her isn’t the best idea. Do I have any opiates left? Uppers would make me all the more anxious, and I’m not up for that, even if I might need it to stay awake today.
By the time I’m dried off and dressed, it’s a little past six, and I head into the kitchen to find Olivia already dressed, going through the cupboards for something to make. “You didn’t want a shower?”
“I’m fine.”
“I mean, you got all sweaty.”
“I don’t sweat.”
“Yes. You do.”
She sighs, turning to me. “Do you want me to shower?”
I shrug. She doesn’t stink or anything, but I assumed she’d want one. “Up to you.”
When she finishes her shower, I’m still waiting for her in the kitchen.
“You look amazing,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “What time do you need to be at the office?”
“As long as I’m there by seven thirty, we’ll be fine. Want to grab breakfast instead? I haven’t had my favorite restaurant’s peameal bacon in years. It’s a little too far.”
Ollie fixes me with a smirk as she works on her hair. “Are you only dating me for my car?”
“Well, now that you mention it…”
She bares her fangs.
“We can talk about it in the car.” I grab my bag, and she acquiesces. As soon as the engine purrs to life, we’re already on the road. “You don’t need directions?”
“I looked it up. It’s practically a straight shot from here. I don’t think I’ll get lost.”
“All right.” She could pretend it’s harder to find. It makes me feel worse about my laziness for never going. “Did you sleep okay?” I ask, knowing the answer to it full well but wanting to know if she’s up for talking about it.
“Not any worse than usual.”
“It was nice waking up in your arms.” I feel absolutely insane as soon as the words leave my mouth. What am I thinking? There’s someone trying to kill me, and I’m not some lovestruck teen. I like her, I do, but I didn’t think I was th
at far gone. Can I throw myself out of the car now? “I mean, it was just a surprise. We haven’t done anything like that before, and I didn’t expect it. But I liked it. You smell good.” Yes. That saved it. I don’t sound even crazier.
“I hadn’t realized I’d done that.” Tucking a lock back behind her ear, she glances at me. It’s not even six thirty, so the roads aren’t exactly full of obstacles. “I’m sorry I’ve been so weird.” With a heavy groan, she turns her gaze back to the road. “I know I must be sending incredibly confusing messages, climbing into your bed and refusing to even touch you.”
“You want to protect me. I understand.”
“I wish that’s all it was.” She apparently feels that this is an adequate explanation, as she says nothing to elaborate. I want to pry words from her, to drag out any explanation I can manage. To ask questions, to do something, but I know how scared she is. Hell, I’m utterly terrified. I don’t date. Oh no, I’m cheating on drugs. I’m sorry, oxycodone, can you ever forgive me? She turns to me before we leave the car, looking like she wants to say something, but she shuts her mouth and doesn’t say another word until we take our seats in the old-fashioned diner.
“What’s good here?”
“Their omelet’s pretty good, and I love their bacon. Nothing’s too bad. I like their milkshakes.”
Since we are in a bit of a hurry, Olivia waves the waitress over and we order two omelets, some peameal bacon, and a milkshake to split. “I wanted to,” she finally says.
“Wanted to what?”
“Anything,” she cries exasperatedly. “I thought maybe it wouldn’t be that difficult. You’re just one human—no offense—you shouldn’t be that scary. I’ve slept with other human women without issue, and I’ve certainly killed more than my fair share. I didn’t think it’d be that different with you. But it is.”
“How so?” I take a sip of my water. I’m not sure how to take any of that.
She rolls her eyes, more dramatically than I feel is strictly necessary. “What do the kids call it these days? I haven’t dated in a few centuries. I like you? I think I saw that on TV.”
“Oh.” Biting my lip, I turn my gaze down to the table. It’s not like I didn’t know. We’ve both made our attraction clear. Hell, we’ve made out a few times. It’s still nice to hear. “I like you too.”
Olivia Page 17
