At least until tears of relief mixed with tears of sadness, and everything went wavy for Beth.
Time to excuse herself.
Murmuring something about making a phone call, she ducked out into the hall. The imaging facility was isolated in the basement of one of the many St. Francis buildings, and outside of it, there was a whole lot of nothing going on: no patients in transport, no carts of supplies rolling by, no staff rushing around in soft-soled shoes.
Putting her head into her hands, she eased her butt against the wall and slid down to the floor. Thank God John seemed okay. So at least one part of her family was all right—
I need you to hear this and know that it’s the God’s honest. I will not service you in your needing. Ever …
Shit, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. Now she had to go back home and deal with all that.
A little while later, the group emerged from command central, and she shimmied to her feet, trying not to look anything other than relieved at John’s scan.
The neurologist was staring at a check in his hands and shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, Manello. Did you win the lottery?”
Kinda. Thanks to Darius’s investments, fifty grand to the neurology department as a donation was no BFD.
And to think, all the white coat had had to do was shove her brother into his pinging machine for about a half hour.
“I’m just grateful you got us in,” Manello murmured.
The doctor turned to John as he folded the check and put it in his pocket. “So, yeah, I still recommend the anti-seizure meds, but if you’re dead-set against them, the only thing I can tell you is, try to keep track of the whens and wheres. See if there’s a pattern—maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. And know that I’m here if you need me. Remember what I said, though—just because I can’t see anything doesn’t mean you’re out of the woods. The episodes are happening because there’s something wrong. Period.”
“Thanks, man.” Manello put out his hand. “You’re the best.”
The former colleagues clapped palms. “Anytime—and I mean that. And … you know, if you ever want to come back, they’d take you in a heartbeat. You’re missed here.”
Manny’s eyes shifted over to Payne, and the secret smile that hit his lips was another source of awwww.
“Nah. I’ve got it good now, but thanks.”
Chatter. Chatter. Good ol’ days. Bye. Thanks again.
And then the vampire contingency split off once again from the human one, Manny leading them out through a maze of bare tiled corridors that looked exactly the same—to the point where she began to become convinced they were lost. Wrong. Either their man in front had a compass implanted in his frontal lobe or he remembered well his decade working in the place—because eventually they hit ground level and went out the revolving doors they’d entered.
Fritz was waiting by the curb, that huge black-on-black Mercedes looking like it belonged to a diplomat. Which was another reason the car was so useful: People tended to err on the side of not screwing with it, like its inhabitants were really important or heavily armed. Fritz got more wave-throughs at stop signs and parking garages than she’d ever seen. Then again, he drove in the exact opposite way he moved.
The elderly butler didn’t have a lead foot. The damn thing was made out of tungsten—
Let’s go back now? John signed in front of her face—like maybe he’d been trying to get her attention.
“Wha—oh, sorry.” She pushed her hair back. “Don’t you want to go with Xhex?”
“I’m heading to the club,” the female said. “With Trez out, I need to check the traps.”
And that was a good, plausible excuse—except it was impossible to ignore the side glances being shared among the group.
“This isn’t about me,” she muttered.
Of course it isn’t, John signed. You’re doing a favor coming back with me. You know, to keep me company.
Fritz was only too happy to jump out and get her door for her, and as she ducked into the back of the sedan, she caught sight of Manny giving Payne a smooch, and John lip-locking with Xhex.
As a wave of dread came over her, she thought fondly of getting drunk as opposed to confronting her husband. The only problem was, that wasn’t going to solve anything, and besides, she had always despised women who got lit. Nothing uglier or more pathetic.
John got in on the other side, and then the Mercedes floated off, following the lane out from under the porte cochere and into the roadway that went around the medical center. With signs like EMERGENCY ROOM, FARNSWORTH REHABILITATION, and YARDLEY SPINE CENTER, it was like a highway with exits to towns you really didn’t want to visit.