Moonshifted(19)

“But she knows things—” Jorgen protested.

“I’m sure she does. But we’re stopping her from doing her job. If he is here, we don’t want that.” He cast a glance down at me, wrapping his arms protectively around the weeping woman. “Keep him safe—and alive.”

All that was in me wanted to nod, or comfort them, but I couldn’t. Officially, he wasn’t here—and beyond that, only foolish nurses promised things they couldn’t guarantee. I wasn’t a were-vet, I had no ideas about his outcome—more good reasons why Gina was the one on the inside, not me.

Jorgen eyed the whole hallway with dismissal, then looked again at me. “We’ll be back,” he said. And then he howled. His form was human, so the howl was misshapen, a rough imitation of a howl. Helen seemed startled at this, and the young man surprised. Then they joined in, their howls more wolf-sounding, hers an alto, his a tenor, sliding together up and down an otherworldly scale. I’d never seen humans make those noises before—and remembered a camping trip from a long time ago, with my family, my brother, and me sitting around a fire, mocking wolves from afar, trying to join into their distant choir.

The wolves here closed their eyes as they howled, like they were praying, sincere. The howls reverberated up and down the short hallway after they stopped, their own echoes answering them.

When they were done, Jorgen hung his head. “He would have answered, if he could.”

Helen sobbed, and the young man pulled her closer. Conjoined in their sorrow, they walked back up the hall.

I waited thirty seconds, then knocked on the closed door. “Gina, get back out here.”

The monitor flicked on, and she stood in it, front and center. “Still in one piece?”

“No thanks to you, yes.”

The door to Winter’s were-corral opened. “Hey, I was the one in here with the sick werewolf.”

“You were the one with the tranquilizer rifle,” I said. She laughed and handed it back to me, pulling off her gown. “Did you see any of that?”

“Yeah. I made the cameras one-way. It was a regular telenovella out here.” She tossed her gown into the linen cart.

“Are all weres so … emotional?”

“Depends on the were, and the animal. Wolves? Yes. Cats? Not so much. Depends on the pack, too, and the family, and the percentage were, major, minor, bitten or born—”

“Okay, okay. Sorry I asked. What did you make of all that?”

“Makes me glad I won’t be the social worker here tomorrow morning—and that I have tomorrow night off.”

Wishing I did, I set all the charts back down on the small desk. “What now?”

“Now, I need a new bag of neo. If pharmacy hasn’t sent one, mix one up, will you?”

I was thrilled to be asked to perform concrete tasks instead of lying to visitors. “Sure. Be right back.”

* * *

The rest of the night was slow and report to day shift went quickly. All us night-shift nurses waved at one another again at the elevator doors before going our separate ways. I saw Charles in the lobby walking ahead of me—he must have caught the previous elevator up.

I jogged to catch up with him as he speed-walked out the lobby’s front door. “Hey, stranger—where were you last night?”

“With my patients.”

“And you didn’t come down the hall, not once? What is it, I smell?” I shoulder-checked him in a companionable way.

Charles kept walking quickly, so I double-timed to keep up. “No. Just keeping my head down. As soon as Meaty told me who that patient was—they don’t pay me enough to take care of him.”

“They don’t pay us enough to take care of anyone,” I said, my voice light. Charles ignored me. “Really, Charles. What’s wrong?”

“That scar I showed you—I got that during the last were-war. Trying to stop them from fighting in the hall. They always say later they don’t know their own strength, and that they’re sorry. It’s a fucking lie.”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” I said, because I was, and because I didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s not your fault. But just don’t ask me for anything more than saline flushes, okay? And even then, I might just throw them down the hall to you.”

“Okay. I’m a good catcher.”

We waited for the light to change so we could cross to the parking lots. “I’m parked legally today, Spence. See you later.”

“Merry Christmas, Charles.”

“You too.” He waved at me and headed toward the staff parking garage.





CHAPTER ELEVEN