I didn’t leave an orderly and a healer unconscious and tied up in a bathroom.
Nope.
I didn’t don the scrubs said orderly kindly brought me and then promptly steal her shoes.
Not me.
I’m just another worker on my way to do whatever it is the people in bright blue scrubs do here, not a drake running for her life. I smooth my hand over my hair, hoping the tight bun I twisted it into helps it to be less noticeable. I can’t do anything about disguising the color. I’ll just have to hope it’s not as unusual here as it is in the south.
Adrenaline tries to encourage my feet to move faster and my hands to shake, but I don’t allow either to happen as two people round a corner and head my way. They’re locked in an animated conversation as they pass by, and I casually let out a puff of relief when neither even glances my way.
I sidestep a transport drone and the large floating bouquet of flowers it carries, my stolen shoes mercifully silent as I avoid the speedy magi-tech bot. I’ve seen a few flying around, doing one job or another. If my situation wasn’t as close to fucked as it is, I’d be tempted to grab one or two and take them home with me. Not that The Scorch has enough Source magic to keep the tech functioning, but if we could modify them, they could come in handy.
I shake my head to help dislocate the direction of my thoughts. I’m used to capitalizing on unexpected opportunities, taking advantage of luck when it leans my way, but I remind myself that this isn’t a run for supplies or recon. The stakes are much higher, and I need to stay focused on what’s most important: getting away.
Traversing another corridor, I follow the signs directing me to the elevators. I wind down another hallway and spot my goal at the same time I spot an adjacent nurses station.
A very busy nurses station.
My stomach tightens when I notice a security guard in the corner, although fortune may be in my favor because he happens to be busy chatting up a pretty woman in pink scrubs. I keep my pace steady and my face blank. I may be out of my depth when it comes to a hospital and how it operates, but I’m not out of my element when it comes to sneaking.
Experience has taught me that if you act like you belong somewhere, others don’t usually question it. It’s an actuality that’s served me and my Flight well when we’ve had to leave the safety of our home wards to acquire or kill one vital thing or another out in the world.
Different lab coats and scrubs create a kaleidoscope of colors as staff flit like diligent little worker bees in and around the nurses station. I’m worried one of them might recognize me, but no one looks over as I approach. A receptionist glances up as I walk past her desk, and I offer her a small friendly smile. She quickly returns it and then busies herself with something.
I try not to hold my breath as I close the distance to the elevators and press the button to call the car before stepping back to wait. I didn’t actually think it would be this easy, but I’m not about to invite trouble my way by questioning it.
I wait for what feels like eons, but an elevator doesn’t arrive to quickly and quietly whisk me away. I press the button to call it again, the airy hope for an easy escape I was just floating on disappearing like a popped balloon.
I stare at the button and then at the opaque list of floors above the elevator doors that should light up as a car approaches, but once again nothing happens. Nothing flickers to life on the panel. There’s no whirring of machinery telling me a car is darting to the floor I’m on. I casually look around, searching for another button or panel to try since this one seems to be broken, my heart picking up speed at the unanticipated impediment.
“Ma’am…” someone behind me calls out.
I ignore the polite summoning, hoping it’s aimed at someone else, and impatiently press the button in front of me for a third time.
“Ma’am…” a female calls again.
Shit.
The stairs are probably nearby. Maybe I can plan B it in their direction.
“Ma’am!” the persistent woman behind me barks again, and I can practically feel eyes turning in my direction and settling on my back.
“I think she’s talking to you,” a male about my size, wearing green scrubs declares as he sidles up next to me. He smells like wolf, but there’s an undercurrent of selkie too, and I’m not sure which is his.
I tense. “Oh,” I chirp with faux surprise at his comment, turning to find the receptionist leaning over her desk, her stare trained on me.
“Try your card one more time,” she instructs, gesturing to the elevators. “They just updated the system again, and it’s being glitchy.” She gives me an apologetic look, and it helps to stave off my panic.
“Got it,” I answer, trying not to fumble as I dig into my pocket for the ID card. The one I took off the healer before I knocked him out and tied him up with his own stethoscope and the lines he brought to reconnect.
The male next to me is steadily tapping on his com bracelet, but I pretend I don’t notice the device I could desperately use right now. Instead of ripping it off his wrist and making a desperate run for it, I step forward to swipe the pilfered badge against the black square of glass on the wall that I assumed was a camera until now.
“Mine goes on the fritz too every time they admit someone high profile on the floor and update the clearances,” the guy next to me volunteers, nodding at the card I tuck back into my pocket. “I think I spend more time talking to the magi-tech team about my access than I do actually doing my job.”
A chime goes off and the elevator doors finally slide open. I step into the car, and the male in the green scrubs follows.
“I heard some nurses whispering about a dragon that was admitted,” he offers conspiratorially as the elevator doors shut and it starts a painfully slow descent. He runs his hand quickly through his golden hair as though ensuring it’s sitting the way he likes.
