“What the HELL is going on in here?!” Dr. Clements roared, storming in.
“Your nurse here is fucking nuts, and is threatening to have me locked up while she murders my partner. Get her away from me before I shoot her.”
“Nole, I’m glad you are here. This patient is under vampire control! He needs to be restrained, and that vampire he came in with needs to be put under lockdown!”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “That is quite enough, Nurse Bailey. You are dismissed.”
“What?!”
“You heard me. Pack up and leave. There will be an inquiry, but I assure you, it will end in your firing.”
“You don’t understand!” Sarah shrieked.
“What I understand is that this man has been in my care for over an hour now. There is no way he is under anyone’s control but his own. Now, get out, or you’ll be escorted out by security.”
The nurse’s eyes flicked around the room wildly before she finally let out a frustrated scream and stomped away.
“Fucking religious nuts,” Harlow growled.
“Can you make sure she leaves the premises?” Dr. Clements asked, eyeing the two police officers.
The two men nodded and left.
“I apologize—”
He cut the doctor off. “Don’t bother. Change this bag and let me get the fuck out of this room,” Harlow demanded.
Harlow stared blankly. Next to him was a metal pole holding a now empty blood bag, and it had been empty for a while. He probably should get someone to just take the damn IV out, but he didn’t feel like moving.
He tapped the empty water bottle in his hand against his knee with a sigh. It had been hours, and he was tired. Tired and thirsty…but at least he was no longer feeling light headed, and he wasn’t really in pain, as they had given him something earlier.
He eyed the waiting room.
Harlow couldn’t help but scoff in disgust. They really didn’t even attempt to show they cared equally for their paranormal patients. The place was half assed at best. While he couldn’t say the human side looked nice, as it was still a hospital, this side was obviously low budget. Or possibly no budget. Instead of the warm tones, fake plants, and fake printed paintings that were on the human side, the walls and floors here were gray, giving it an unfinished almost prison-like look.
Besides the walls and floors, nothing else matched. Just a lot of randomly colored furniture placed around, as if they’d just grabbed whatever they had in storage. But not the good furniture that was at least comfortable to sit on. No, they’d given the paranormals the crappy furniture with zero padding, and in the most ugly colors one could imagine.
The walls were also bare. Everything was pretty bare. And when compared to the human side…it was drastically understaffed. Yet, despite how humans claimed to be so afraid of working on paranormals, he hadn’t seen a single paranormal creature working there. Like, if they were so ‘fearful’ of the strength differences, why the hell wouldn’t they just hire paranormals for this side? Technically, paranormals were allowed to work in any medical field they wanted. But they had no chance in hell of getting hired, despite their overall quicker reflexes and better senses.
Just a bunch of bullshit. All of it. And seeing it all after the day he’d had, Harlow really felt like punching someone.
He sighed and leaned back against the wall, rubbing his eyes. A thought popped into his head… Tony…he should call Tony. His boss was probably wondering what the fuck was going on…
Groaning, Harlow pulled his flip phone out of his inner jacket pocket and dialed the man’s number.
Tony answered right away, telling Harlow the man had been waiting for his call. “I’m guessing you are there. I’d have called, but I figured you’d call when you weren’t busy. How are things going? How’s Foxx?”
“Foxx…is still in surgery. Everything else is just a giant pile of bullshit. Starting with the dumbfuck cop who trailed me for thirty minutes, siren blaring, after which he pulled his gun on me. Followed by a religious nutso nurse who tried to have me strapped down, while wanting to pull Foxx out of surgery. You are lucky I haven’t shot anyone.”
“I did have an interesting call from the Chief of Police in Banesberry, apologizing for one of his men. But what the hell is the nurse thing?”
“Just some religious nutjob.” Harlow sighed.
“How are you? You sound tired.”
“Tired, thirsty, and pissed off. Wound wise, I have eighteen stitches in my right leg. Deep enough to bleed a hell of a lot, but I won’t need any physical therapy or anything.” He paused, trying to think if there was anything else, before adding, “Oh, I also have a concussion.”
“So, nothing you haven’t dealt with before.”
