“It’s nighttime. She’s working a double—covering for you. Hang on.” She made a silly face at me, then ran out the door.
“Like I have a choice,” I said to her departing form.
She returned with a bouquet, and arranged it on my bed table, handing me the card with an expectant smile. I took it from her, inhaled and exhaled slowly, and then opened it with shaking hands.
It read Congratulations, from Asher in purple ink with a heavy slant and a heart over the i. Tears threatened. I closed the card again and looked up at her.
“I don’t suppose I had any visitors while I was asleep? The tall, dark, and zombie kind?” I tried to keep my voice light while I asked, and failed.
I had obviously not had the reaction Gina expected. She looked from the card to me and back again, then shook her head.
“Okay, then. Okay,” I told myself more than her. I hugged myself, my arms tracing the binder’s course across my torso. It would take more than its elastic to hold in my breaking heart. I pointed with my chin at the flowers. “Take those to someone who deserves them, down the hall.” I shook my IV lines with one hand. “And if you don’t mind, I’ll take more of whatever’s in bag number two.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Time in the hospital passes slowly.
I knew this, as a nurse, but as a patient—it’s like being in jail. There’s nothing to do but watch the clock and suffer through the vast wasteland that is daytime television.
I was trapped on Y4 under bowel rest from the surgery they’d performed to stop all the bleeding inside of me, allowed only sips of water and other clear fluids, until my GI tract performed to their satisfaction. I knew all the technical reasons for being here, but actually being here sucked.
I clicked on the evening news my first night.
“There’s been no explanation for the outbreak of mass hysteria at Providence General on Saturday night,” a female news anchor announced, standing outside in the snow. I closed my eyes. “It’s possible that forgotten tanks of nitrous oxide in the older part of the hospital rusted through,” said someone who sounded like a hospital spokesperson. “Investigations are continuing, but we can assure the public that Providence General is completely safe and open for business.”
“Assuming you can pay,” I muttered.
“Meanwhile,” a male voice segued, “the brutal mutilations of three drug dealers have led police to suspect a gang war is ongoing. I warn you, the photos we’re about to show you will be graphic. These photos are not suitable for children.”
I opened up my eyes to see the man who’d originally had the rest of Ti’s new face. I leaned over the top railing of the bed as my stomach heaved. Luckily you don’t throw up much if you haven’t had anything to eat in three days.
* * *
“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Meaty asked. It was really hard to tell Meaty no, but I managed. It was the end of my fifth incarcerated night shift, and the morning was edging up on dawn.
“Maybe when I get back, you know? I need to gain some perspective.” The truth was, I wasn’t interested in rehashing anything with anyone just yet. My scars from surgery were healing nicely, but the rest of me felt like it had a sucking chest wound that no one else could see.
Charles had his arms crossed, in an imitation of Meaty. “I suppose the important thing is that you lived.”
“Exactly.” I forced a smile. I was wearing four pairs of scrubs, layered for warmth under Gina’s extra coat, and my work shoes, which I’d left in the locker room what felt like ages ago. “Which one of you has a bus pass for me to make it home?”
Meaty produced one. “You’re sure?”
“Later. I promise.” I took the ticket. “I’ll be back. You’ll see.”
* * *
The bus ride was uneventful, even if it seemed like every pothole the driver went over was meant for me. I got off at the station, and walked down the street to my apartment, comforted that there weren’t any strange footprints on my stoop in the recent snow. I tried the handle and it gave, just like I’d left it. I walked in with a sigh, and set my bag down.
The first thing I noticed was that the faucet was off. And my apartment didn’t smell like a litter box. Grandfather was still sitting by the doorway—I scooped him up.
“Minnie?”
No sound.
I walked through my apartment, holding Grandfather like you would hold a knife or a frying pan. The kitchen and living room were clear, the hallway was empty, the bathroom was empty—I went into my darkened bedroom, where the lightproof sheet was still over my blinds. I looked under my bed—no Minnie. And then I turned toward my closet, which was open just a hair. I peered inside and saw Minnie, curled up on Anna’s lap.
I sat on my bed for a long minute, gathering strength and trying to figure out what I ought to do next. Then I took the sheets off my bed, walked them down to the laundry, and came back.* * *
I took a nap once my sheets were done, but made sure to get up before nightfall. Anna emerged from my closet like a fairy-tale Sleeping Beauty, all stretches and yawns, greeting the night instead of dawn. She wore a shirt I didn’t recognize, but scrub pants I was sure were my own.
“Good morning,” I told her, when she was done. She nodded, and sat on the bed beside me.
What was between us now? The tenuous connection of people who’d been through tragic circumstances? I’d felt like this with patients at the hospital before, after emergencies with them, or when I was left with their surviving loved ones. I never knew what to do with myself then, and I certainly didn’t know what to do with myself now.
“Thanks for taking care of my cat,” I said, when I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
Anna nodded. “She’s nice. I’ve never had a cat before.”
“Her name’s Minnie,” I said.
“I read her tag.” Anna sat still, with her hands holding one another between her knees. “You would have healed faster if you’d swallowed my blood.”
“Yeah. And I know you could have made me, but you didn’t,” I said. “So thanks, but no thanks.”
She nodded again, while looking at her hands. I bent my head down to better see her. “What are you doing here, Anna?”
“This was the only place where they couldn’t reach me.”
She could probably take any daytimer. And no other vampire could come in without an invite, as long as I was alive. She had fought so hard to escape her former life, and for what? Just to hide out with me and my cat? It was so sad it made me want to cry.
“Is there a plan?”
“I need you to contact the Rose Throne for me.”
“No. You can stay here. Screw them.”
She gave me a sad look. “I can’t live in your closet forever, human. No matter how much I like your cat.”
“I can’t just turn you over to them, Anna.” I stood up and began pacing my small room. “Doesn’t being a nochnaya come with a palace somewhere?”
“What does being a nochnaya even mean? I do not know what that makes me yet. I was raised by humans. I have not met another like me before and neither has anyone else. The Rose Throne has kept the best records. They might be able to help.”
“But at what price? They’ll have an angle if you go to them.” I had scars now from the angle that they’d had on me.
A rueful smile slid across her face. “I believe almost everyone does. Their interest plan seems easiest, however. Please call them now.”
I wasn’t sure she was making the best move. But what other options were there? Not very damn many, at least not ones that wanted her alive. “All right.”
My dead cell phone was in my belongings bag. I charged it up enough to write Sike’s number down and take it to the landline in my kitchen.
“Hey, it’s Edie. Come over, please,” I told Sike’s voice mail.
I turned around and Anna was in my hallway, looking at my family photos on the wall. She spoke without turning toward me. “That night in your room, when I crawled right up beside you and listened to you breathe. I wondered what it would have been like if my life had been different, if everything had gone according to my parents’ plans. A safe life with Yuri, without all the pain.”
I hung up the phone. “I’m sorry I killed him, Anna.”
“I am too.” She turned back toward me, to look me in the eye. “But I forgive you for it. And that’s what is strange in me.” She put her hand to her chest. “Vampires do not grant forgiveness. I know—I asked enough of them for it. I begged them for forgiveness, for my imagined crimes.”
Minnie ran out of my bedroom and twined around Anna’s ankles. Anna knelt and gently knuckled her head. “Anna—” I began.
“I can forgive you, and know it. Where I could not forgive them.” She ran her hand in long strokes along Minnie’s back. “When I left to find Pascha and feast on him, I was strong enough to defeat them there where they found me.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I went with them willingly. I fought enough so that they did not know that—but I went with them. I knew of their plot for you—but I was tired of being angry. Anger is exhausting. Maybe that is another thing different between me and other vampires—the things that are human about me can become tired, and that exhaustion makes me weak. I thought, what if I went along with them? What if I did just let them sacrifice you, your soul grant them the power to create their Tyeni, and then they make me forget? I could have been one of them, never knowing any better—and I have so many memories that I do not wish to keep.
“There was a time when I was ready to forget, I think. The betrayal of my kind, the loss of my parents, the hatred of my own brother—these are things one longs to lose, to pretend one never knew. But then you appeared, and I could not let you be killed by them.”