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Chapter 21

Chapter

21

"Rachel, we're here."

I started awake, surprised to find myself on the bus until I remembered. People in scrubs and jeans were making their way to the rear to get off, and new passengers dressed about the same were getting on at the front. I stood, stifling a yawn as I joined the line to the back and shuffled to the steps. Four hours of sleep hadn't been nearly enough. The coffee I'd had for breakfast wasn't helping. I was tired, my gut hurt…and a part of me was foolishly worried that Kisten might wake up and that I wouldn't be there.

But he was not waking up, not ever, and my throat closed against my heartache. He was starving to death, his aura slipping away as he tried to fight off Art's virus. This, too, I could not stop.

Elyse hit the sidewalk ahead of me, obnoxiously awake and alert. I planned on picking up our glamours on the way in, seeing as she was still a person of interest and I…Well, too many hospital workers knew who I was. Not to mention sequins and rhinestones didn't do it for me anymore. Much.

Head down, I didn't notice when Elyse veered off, and I scuffed to a halt when she shouted an annoyed "Hey!"

"This way," I said, seeing her standing halfway to the main entrance, hand on her hip as if I was a dunderhead. She stared at me for a heartbeat, then jogged forward as if four hours was enough sleep for anyone.

"Not the front?" she said as she slowed to meet my ambling stroll, and I shrugged. I'd left my bag at the library and felt naked without it. It was almost as recognizable as me.

"The undead's ambulance entrance," I said. "We'll find someone to lift a glamour from and work around not having the right ID."

Elyse's gaze fixed on the steady stream of employees leaving, the woman nodding at the predominance of red scrubs. I'd timed it perfectly. "The undead have their own entrance?" she asked.

"For convenience. Cincy has had a second emergency room since before the Turn," I explained. "They keep the languishing undead in a separate facility, which we can access more easily from there. The entire floor is slow this time of day."

She made a little huff. "It's your town."

"Yep, and you just keep remembering that," I said, not liking her doubt. "Slow up, I want to lift her image. We won't have her ID, but she's about the same build as you."

"An intern?" Elyse complained as I tapped a line and peered through the stone's hole at the woman in red scrubs, clearly eager to get to her car and the rest of her day.

"A priori," I said to capture her image in my mind, and I felt a twinge of connection.

I turned to Elyse…choking back the next phrase. She was gone. "Elyse?" Crap on toast, she was jogging after the woman in question. Worse, Elyse rammed right into the woman's shoulder, both of them crying out in surprise as Elyse caught her arm and kept her from going down.

"Oh, my gosh!" Elyse gushed, her brow furrowed in worry. "I am such a klutz. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the woman said in annoyance. "Just don't drive like that, okay?"

"I'm so sorry." Elyse began to back away, the woman's ID going into her pocket.

Clever, I mused when Elyse sauntered to me, as smug as a snake.

"Now you can spell me," she said, and I gave her a nod of approval.

"A posteriori," I said as I peered at her through the stone, then blew through it at her, thinking, Omnia mutantur.

Elyse shivered, and I looked through the stone again to see not Elyse but the athletic blonde, right down to her red scrubs. "You're good."

Elyse frowned as she peered at the woman's ID. "Mandy Manning. Tell me who you want and I'll get their ID."

"Her," I said as I targeted a short brunette. She was somewhat stockier than me, but I liked her black slacks and white blouse. She was probably an office manager, but with the right attitude, she could be from the I.S. "Leave her," I added when Elyse rocked into motion. "An I.S. employee wouldn't have a hospital ID. We'll get in on yours."

"You sure?"

"Light footprint," I said as I did the spell, shivering when it settled over me.

Glamours in place, we walked into the underground drop-off as if going into work. The cool of the garage was pleasant, and the elevator would get us downstairs. And from there…

I yanked on the door, frowning as it gave an inch and stopped with a metallic thud.

"You're up," I said, fully aware of the camera pointed at the door. No one would check the tapes. At least that's what I told myself. Getting out with a body might be another story. Might be easier to bring Kisten here, leaving him in the John Doe Vamp's place. One body in, one body out, and as Elyse scanned her ID, I winced, images of a wheelchair and a pasty-white man flitting through my head. Car. We needed a car. The bus would be too…memorable.

"So far, so good," Elyse said as the door opened, and I slipped in past her.

My shoulders slumped at the heady scent of the undead, the spicy mix of sex and power going right to my groin and rebounding to make the scar on my neck tingle.

"Wow." Elyse blinked, taking it in as she looked over the taupe walls and tiled floor. "That's strong. And we aren't even downstairs yet."

"Elevator." I raised my chin to point it out, feeling like Ivy as I hit the button in a quick staccato, trying to hurry the lift.

"Hey, Mandy," a masculine voice called out, and Elyse spun. "They call you back?"

"Ah, no," she said, and I pulled her stumbling into the elevator when the doors slid open. "I forgot something. Don't tell anyone I'm here. Okay? I don't want to get roped into anything."

Safe in the elevator, I watched the man turn his attention to his tablet with a chuckle. "I know nothing. I see nothing," he said, and then the doors slid shut.

Elyse exhaled, puffing out her cheeks to tell me she wasn't half as confident as she wanted me to think. "L-3?" she guessed with an overly bright smile, and I hit the button for the floor right below that.

"L-4," I said, steeling myself for the coming assault. I'd been to the undead emergency floor before, and it was rife with pheromones despite the massive airflow designed to remediate it. I'd been able to handle it then, but now? With a new vampire scar and a body sans two years of practice in saying no?

I winced, missing Jenks. Not only could he short out the cameras, but his smart-ass commentary would have gone a long way in keeping my libido in check. But when the elevator dinged and the doors opened, it was only the scent of antiseptic and comforting taupe walls that met me. Either the floor was empty of patients, or they made a point to keep this one clear of pheromones.

"Impressive." Elyse strode forward, oblivious that I had seen her momentary lapse of confidence. Maintaining that took a toll, but admitting to yourself and others that you were vulnerable was a strength she needed to learn herself.

"That way," I said, eyes on the small placard stating undead assessment . They didn't like to use the word morgue until it was obvious they weren't coming back, and we needed an undead vampire who had recently passed. The window wasn't as small as one might think.

"Gurney?" Elyse suggested, and I shook my head.

"We're just window-shopping," I said as we slowed at the twin metal doors. Again, a tug got no response, and Elyse grinned.

"I bet Mandy has access," she said as she held her ID to the scanner.

A bland buzz sounded, and I pulled the door open, my steps slowing at the reception desk. Actually, it appeared more like an office than a receiving area, the desk being cluttered with papers, racks of filing cabinets against one wall, and a shallow fish tank with a turtle taking up one corner. A rotary landline phone from the seventies sat to one side like the insult it was. The lights were bright and potted plants were everywhere, as if whoever they had stuck down here pined for an aboveground office.

A collage of Cincy's bridges through the decades hung on the wall facing the desk, the pictures ranging from grainy brown-and-white to drone shots of the remodeled bridge twinkling with colored lights. Unlike the city morgue, there was no comfortable waiting room. This was someone's office, and I studied the heavy redwood scent overpowering the faltering vampire pheromones and embalming fluid. Whoever sat at the desk was a top practitioner. What were they doing down here?

"I'll be with you in a moment!" came a distant call, and I froze, recognizing the voice. I'd talked to her only once, but I'd know that bitter, angry, sarcastic tone anywhere.

"Um, it's Dr. Ophees," I whispered, and Elyse looked at my hand gripping her arm.

"She knows you?"

I let go, not sure why I'd grabbed her. "Yes. I mean, no. Not yet." Relax, Rachel. This isn't a problem. "We interacted for about five minutes. I'd bet my life that she didn't recognize me then, but she…" My voice trailed off in a sudden thought. "She has a spell that separates the aura from the blood that carries it."

Elyse's eyebrows rose. "Seriously? That can't be legal."

My pulse quickened, and I stared at the open archway where Dr. Ophees's voice had come from. "It is. Technically. I almost accidentally made a donation once. You can administer it to an unconscious vampire like a pill or salve."

My gut hurt. Kisten. He wouldn't be able to replenish his aura via a draft of blood as long as he was battling Art's virus. Sure, he would starve of aura depletion somewhere between now and home even if he was under a stasis curse, but that didn't mean he had to starve right now.

Elyse took in my silence, her eyes widening. "Rachel, no," she whispered as she followed my train of thought. "We are here to see if they have a body. Not some miracle cure. You can't fix this. No undead survives mixing their blood with another undead. He is going to die whether you give him an aura or not."

"I know that, but I'm not going to watch him starve if I don't have to," I said bitterly. "Why don't you check out what's available while I keep her occupied."

Elyse groaned, eyes closing. "Please don't do anything stupid."

That was my line, but hope had slashed my heartache wide open. If Dr. Ophees had the charm, I could what? Save Kisten? I'd never be able to get him home undead even with the stasis curse. It would keep him from decomposing. That's it. And even if I could, he'd be in a coma, reliant upon bottled auras for the rest of his comatose, undead existence. That's not what he would want. The best I could do was keep him comfortable until he died, and as Dr. Ophees came scuffing out from the back room, I decided that sometimes that was enough of a win.

"I could get home faster if I walked," Elyse muttered, beaming at the tall dark-haired woman tossing her blue gloves into the nearby trash can.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and I shifted to get her attention off Elyse. Dr. Ophees might have been going for professional in her dark slacks and pressed top, but a ratty cardigan and slippers ruined it. I couldn't blame her. It was unlikely that anyone ever came down here unless they were picking up or dropping off. Even so, she looked eminently qualified with her glasses, trendy haircut, and perpetually annoyed expression.

"Ah, hi," I said when Elyse cleared her throat. "I'm from the I.S., checking for unclaimed bodies to move to the city morgue."

The tall woman's lips twitched and she went to her desk, done with me. "I take my Does to the morgue myself. Though if you had been here on Friday, I might have made an exception." She sat down and shook her mouse to wake her computer. "He should've gone there from the get-go, but rules are rules, and until their auras hit critical, they are mine. Good-bye."

An unclaimed vampire at the city morgue, twice dead from a declining aura? He'd be there at least a month to give someone the chance to claim him. This was better than we could have hoped for, and I glanced at Elyse, thrilled until I remembered that whoever it was, he had been important to someone.

Elyse made a directive nod to the hallway, jaw clenching when I inched closer.

"Ah, when you say ‘critical.' What is that?" I asked, worried about Kisten. "Thirty percent aura?"

Dr. Ophees furrowed her brow, suddenly wary. "Who did you say you were?" she asked, and Elyse's grimace flicked to a smile when the doctor's gaze landed on her.

I had a heartbeat of panic. "Stef Monty," I said, borrowing the first name of my last roommate, and my dad's first name for my last. "I think there's been a mistake. I just made street runner, and hazing week sucks." I came forward, hand extended. "It's great to meet you. Mandy was nice enough to show me the way down here."

"Oh. Well, sorry you made the trip for nothing." Dr. Ophees stared at her screen, and I let my hand drop. "Have a nice day."

Elyse cleared her throat. "I'll walk you upstairs," she offered as she came closer, and then in my ear. "You got what you came for, let's go."

True, but now I wanted something else, and I stepped to the open archway, both women stiffening when I glanced into the morgue. It was all drawers, at least ten rows, and they all were wired for audio and visual by the looks of it. "It's only the undead down here?" I asked.

"Yes." The chair creaked as Dr. Ophees leaned back in suspicion. "But only after they lose eighty percent of their aura. Theoretically they could recover, but by the time they reach me, they don't have a chance."

Eighty percent. Kisten was not that bad. Yet. "Well, there are ways around that." I turned and leaned against the wall.

"All of them illegal," Dr. Ophees said mildly. "Ms. Stef Monty from the I.S."

"Not all of them."

Elyse shifted nervously. "Ma'am, let me escort you up." She gave Dr. Ophees a nervous grin. "Sorry to have bothered you, Doctor."

My arms crossed over my middle, making me into an immovable lump. "Go ahead. I know the way back if you're busy."

Dr. Ophees met my eyes, clearly annoyed as I settled in. "You need to leave," she said, voice hard. "I run a clean morgue. No illegal curses. They come in. I do what I can. They either wake up hungry or they don't."

I stifled a wince. She hadn't come up with the spell yet. Crap on toast, I thought, recognizing her anger now as frustration. Well, maybe I was the one who taught it to her?

"It's a spell, not a curse," I said, and Elyse cleared her throat in warning. "Bastardized from illicit magic, but it pulls the aura from donated blood, not a living person, freely given. No harm, no foul. You can store them on a shelf, administer them like a blanket to give the undead's body time to repair itself before a lack of aura kills them twice."

"There is no such thing," Dr. Ophees said with a bitter confidence. "I'd know about it."

I shrugged. "Now you do."

Elyse cleared her throat. "Stef, I really think we should leave."

Brow furrowed, Dr. Ophees stared at me. "So tell me."

Yes! I thought in triumph as Elyse stifled a groan. "You want me to simply give it to you?" I said. "For nothing? A charm that could make your entire career? I want something in return."

The woman shook her head and glanced at her phone. "I'm not giving you a body."

"Nope," I agreed. "You're going to save one."

Elyse bowed her head and pushed her fingers into her temples.

Silent, Dr. Ophees put the flat of her arms atop her desk.

"Consider it, Dr. Ophees," I said, feeling like Al—or Trent maybe—offering a heart's desire for what felt like nothing. "You will be pioneering a new field of emergency medicine, one that will save hundreds, thousands of undead lives its first year. You , not me. I don't want any credit." My gaze flicked to Elyse. "Neither does she. I simply want one man saved." I hesitated, thinking, And maybe ten percent of any aura gathered to go to Kisten so he doesn't starve before Art's virus kills him twice.

"Then you do it," Dr. Ophees said as her gaze on me went indistinct, then cleared. "Your aura is smutty, and you have at least one demon mark. Get out of my office."

"Where do you think I learned the cure?" I said. "I can't do the charm because I don't have the equipment. And I can't get it past the Federal Spell and Charm Association because, as you say, my aura is smutty and I have a couple of demon marks. You, though, with your reputation?" I let that hang for a moment, playing on her pride. "I need that aura, Dr. Ophees. I'm not going to break the law and hurt people with an illicit curse when you have the tools and I have the know-how to get it legally." I nodded at the first hints of belief in her. "I keep the man I once loved from starving, and you pioneer a new, legal method of providing emergency aura care to the undead."

"From donated blood?" she said, gaze going into the back room and probably a cache of fresh blood, on hold should someone actually wake up. "It can't be legal."

"I can assure you it is," Elyse said sourly, drawing both our attentions.

"And I should take the advice from an intern?" Dr. Ophees mocked, and Elyse flushed. "It's my reputation on the line, not yours. I'd need to see said charm. Judge for myself its moral ramifications."

My pulse jumped. The woman hated the futility of her job. She'd risk a lot to get out. I knew how she felt. "Absolutely. I need a pint of blood still containing its aura, two small scrying mirrors, wax candle." I hesitated. "From the fat of a fetal pig if available."

Dr. Ophees nodded. It sounded awful, but when dealing with the undead, anything that hadn't seen the light of day simply worked better.

"A glass jar about this size that can be sealed," I continued, holding my hands just so. "Big silver knife."

"Knife?" Elyse questioned, and I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug.

"To clean the wax off the scrying mirror when done. You don't want anything impure to embed itself in the surface."

"That's it?" Dr. Ophees hadn't stood up, instead looking at me through her glasses with an intensity that made me wonder if she was seeing past the glamour: sequins, rhinestones, and all. "I despise working down here," she said sourly. "Do you know there's only a three percent chance of recovery after they reach me? They call me Dr. Death."

I said nothing, waiting as she thought it over. Please, please, please…

"Okay," she finally said, and I stifled a jump. "Give me a second to lock up and collect what you need."

"Great." I exhaled to try to hide my relief as Dr. Ophees returned to the back room. The sound of drawers opening and closing could be heard, and Elyse inched closer.

"This is not a good idea," she whispered, and I grimaced. "We came here to scout for a body. We found one at the city morgue. What are you doing this for?"

I rocked away from her, fidgety because I knew she was right. "I thought you'd be interested in seeing how close the charm walks the line between moral, ethical, and Alcatraz. She can do some real good, but she needs your stamp of approval." Not to mention if it works, Kisten wouldn't die of aura depletion while waiting for Art's virus to kill him.

"You want to take her down there?" Elyse looked mortified. "What if she calls the I.S.?"

There was a series of beeps from the other room, followed by a soft sucking sound of an air seal breaking. "She's not going to call the I.S. She's under patient-doctor privilege."

Elyse grabbed my elbow in warning. "It doesn't work that way."

"She wants to go." I gestured to the back room. "She's a doctor. He needs care. Besides, she has this spell in the future. You think she figures it out on her own?"

Grimacing, she dropped away. "How come everything you want to do has already been done, and everything I want to do will break the timeline?"

"Maybe because you weren't supposed to be here." I found a smile as Dr. Ophees returned with a small, clearly used shipping box. The handle of a big knife poked out over the edge, and I felt a quiver of hope—quickly followed by a flash of anxiety. I was going to be inventing this charm on the fly, but I'd seen the pentagram she'd used in the future and I knew the original curse it was bastardized from. There might be years of tweaking to make it efficient, but it was a good start. Even if it only collected a small portion of aura, it would help. It had to work.

"Ready?" I said, looking for my bag. But I'd left it with Kisten, and I felt foolish.

"This is my lunch break," Dr. Ophees said. "You have two hours."

"Okay, but you're driving," I said as the tall woman ushered us out into the hall and locked the door.

Two hours. It had to work.

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