“Meaty—what’s going on?”
Meaty slammed the red phone down in disgust. “They’re leaving.”
“Who?”
“The Shadows. A prisoner of theirs escaped, and they’re giving chase.” Meaty glared at the phone as if sheer anger could change things.
“Leaving?” I whispered.
Meaty’s gaze rose to mine. “No one else can know of this. Go get Charles.”
I wanted to ask more questions, but I ran off the floor.
I found Charles in the men’s locker room. I entered after I knocked on the door. “Charles—”
“Don’t even try to stop me, Edie.” I’d never been into the men’s locker room before. It looked a lot like the women’s, only there were a ton more empty lockers here. I looked away while Charles finished pulling on his clothing for outdoors. “If they’re gone, there’s no reason to stay.”
“Maybe they’ll be back fast,” I said, aware of how lame it sounded.
“Are you willing to bet your life on it?” The inside of Charles’s locker was decorated with black-and-white photos of a lovely middle-aged woman. He pulled out all his belongings and started taking down the pictures.
“She’s beautiful,” I said.
“She is. And I’m going to go spend some time with her now.” The photos he carefully pressed into an ancient nursing care book, then put this into a bag. “If the Shadows are gone, I don’t know how long we have left. I’m taking her, and I’m going away. Someplace warm—someplace safe.”
“You’ll take your cell phone with you, right?”
“Sure. But don’t bother texting me until this is through.” He pushed his feet into winter boots and reached for the door behind me. “It’s been nice knowing you, Spence. Don’t get any more scars.”
After that, he left. I walked back onto the floor in a daze. Charles had been my anchor on Y4. Knowing I could turn to him for help allowed me to feel safe. Now?
“Edie, your assignment’s changed. You’ve got Charles’s daytimer, too. Don’t worry, I’ll help.” Meaty’s voice was reasonable, even.
Don’t worry? I repeated inside my head. There was no way I could help it.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“Just let me go to the bathroom first,” I told Meaty.
“All right. I’ll see you when you get back,” Meaty said, with an emphasis on the word back. We couldn’t all abandon ship tonight. If word that the Shadows were gone got out—traveled into one of our patient rooms, wafted up the elevator, went around the corner—we’d all be sitting ducks for whatever came our way. Charles’s sudden absence we could explain, but not Charles’s and mine together.
“I’ll be back,” I promised, and then rushed back off the floor. I ran into the locker room, pulled out my purse, and dialed Jake. He didn’t answer. I tried him again, and again. Who else could I call? I thought about dialing Sike—but even if she wasn’t an assassin, she wasn’t likely to care. I scrolled through the names on my phone’s contact list—the only one who would understand the gravity of the situation, and might be able to do anything about it, was Asher. I hated to ask him for a favor again, but I dialed him anyway. He answered on the second ring.
“Edie?”
“Asher—thanks for the other night,” I started off strong, then paused. How best to explain it? It was quiet on the far end of the line this time. I imagined him in his library, lying on his couch, reading a book.
“You’re welcome. What’s wrong now? You only call me when you want something.”
I was abashed. He was right. “I’m sorry, Asher.”
“It’s fine for now. Just know that someday soon when I want something, I’m going to call you.” He didn’t sound like he was teasing.
“Anything. Just ask it. Only help me out one last time.”
“Okay.”
“You remember my brother? He’s selling drugs. He’s in trouble. I’m trapped here for the rest of my shift—I don’t know what to do.”
“What about the Shadows?” Asher asked.
“They’re not reliable,” I said, choosing my descriptor carefully.
He made a thoughtful noise. “How unreliable currently are they?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Are you in danger?”
“No. I just need Jake to be safe.” It was what I’d always needed, for almost as long as I could remember. “He’s homeless. He stays at the Armory, downtown. He’s selling this stuff called Luna Lobos, which has something to do with the weres. Plus he’s an idiot. You know what he looks like. That’s pretty much all you need to know.”
“All right, Edie. I’ll get on it.” It sounded like he was setting a book down and standing up.
“Thank you so much, Asher.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll owe me after this, though. We’ll figure out how much for, later.”
“Like I said. Anything.”
“I may take you up on that.” He hung up on me before I could say anything back.
I felt a little better, going back onto the floor, and found Meaty waiting for me, just in case.
“I’m back. Like I said I would be,” I said.
Meaty nodded solemnly. “Thanks.”
So now I had Charles’s patient, and no report, on top of the other four. I flipped through the charts and caught myself up to speed—Mr. Hale was also the victim of a gunshot wound, much as Javier had been. Because Mr. Hale was some vampire’s daytimer, though, he was eligible for vampire blood to heal him. I found the authorization from from the Throne that signed off on it—I’d never seen an actual order before. It was written on vellum, like Anna’s party invitation. I wondered if all the vampires had the same stationery, with a snort. On the bottom was an imprint into something that I hoped was wax, but looked more like a scab. There was a design in the center of it that looked roughly like a dagger or some kind of handled tool. I scraped at it with a fingernail, and a crusty piece came off.
“Ew.”
The County transfusion lab kept donations of elder vampire blood for Y4. Vampire blood was a rare commodity—despite all the blood they drank in, very little of it ever came out again. The metabolic processes that created blood had slowed in death like the rest of them. Anna, as a living vampire, seemed to be the only known exception.
I set the chart aside and sat up to look over the nurses’ station. Our daytimer patient was watching me. When he caught me looking, he waved for me to come in.
I walked over to his room and stood in the door. He looked as sketchy as the mute weres down the hall, face riddled with old pockmarks and a sheen of grease. He smelled rank, like old sweat and urine. A scrub-down with mere shaving cream wasn’t going to save my nose from him, assuming he’d even let me. “Hey lady—where’d my other nurse go?”
“His wife got sick, he had to leave.”
The daytimer shrugged, then winced. “Can you give me anything for pain? I got pain, bad.”
“Let me look at your chart.”
I hoped that Charles had caught things up before he left so I didn’t double-med the guy. Then again, there was almost no way he could die on my shift. Him getting vampire blood was almost the reverse of a Do Not Resuscitate code. Nothing I could do to him tonight would kill him, except if maybe I was carrying a bottle of holy water across his room and tripped on top of him.
I grabbed five milligrams of morphine out of the Pyxis, his max dose, drew it up, and took it in to him. My badge with my name on it was in my scrub pocket; I’d put it there so it wouldn’t dangle over the weres as I tucked them into bed. I was supposed to pull it out and hang it outside the isolation suit so that patients could ID us. I decided not to bother with that this time. I’d be fine being hey lady for the rest of the night.