“Wait until I call your mother.”
“Great, I’m going under with the fear of my mother as my final thoughts. Thanks, Dr. Bedside-Manner-of-a-Demon.”
“Okay, Dr. Stein,” he says, with real remorse written on his soft features. “Dream not only of being Dr. Frank Stein, but also of having the body of Frankenstein’s monster. You run the most successful surgery in the world of monsters. This haunted hospital is known all over the magical world for the ugly SOB who saves all the monsters….”
His voice fades into oblivion as my mind is wrapped in drug-induced cotton batting. As the gas mask is placed over my mouth hole, I suck down the anesthesia. My eyes drift closed, and my mind’s eye opens to the possibility of a hospital for monsters, run by monsters. Shifters just came out last summer. What if all the other rumored creatures are real, too, with real medical problems?
Who takes care of the hideous? The rejected? The frighteningly wicked?
Why can’t it be us?
Chapter 2
Alette
“Here at Haunted Health, all monsters are respected for their differences. Whether you have claws, tentacles, or wings, we treat the individual. On the left, you will see our tank for water births—not only for merfolk, but also for Kraken and Fishpeople who wish to lay their eggs in a protected environment,” says Liam, the nurse assigned to our tour of the obstetrics ward.
“What would keep a fiercesome Kraken from laying their eggs in the ocean?” asks my sister, Sarah. She rubs her protruding belly as if soothing her unborn pups from potential distress over baby Krakens.
“Predators, rival Kraken, or simply a cruise ship churning the waters can disrupt the egg sacks,” Liam answers with a slow blink of his singular eye.Get a grip, Alette! I stare at the Liam Yates, BSN on his nametag so I don’t stare at his eight arms or cyclops face. You would think I’d be accustomed to seeing lots of types of monsters from growing up in a werewolf family, but weres stick to themselves.
“Parents can avoid these hazards in the shallows, but then the eggs are vulnerable to birds, crabs, and low tide. If you notice the network of tanks on the back wall, those are where we keep the eggs safe until hatching. The parents will raise the sentienthatchlings at home, but Haunted Hearts will release the non-sentient hatchlings if it’s too tough for them. It’s one of the ways we accommodate all monsters’ individual needs,” he continues as we wander the maternity ward.
“Ghastly,” whispers my mother too loudly.
“For werewolves such as yourself,” Liam finishes without losing his pep. “For Kraken, it’s the way of their reproduction. In the oceans, the nonsentient would swim off immediately, and this would be a non-issue.”
“I like how sensitive you are to patients’ needs. Don’t you think, Sarah?” I ask my sister to take her focus off mothers giving away their babies. Sarah has cried at the drop of a hat since becoming pregnant, and from the way her lip quivers, she’s a heartbeat from sobs. “I bet they will cater to your food cravings and everything.”
“I drive across town to the little deli on Fifth Street every day to get my girl her morning sandwich of olive loaf with Limburger on rye,” Sarah’s husband, Michael, declares. His pride rings true in the loud volume he uses to announce my sister's strange food preferences. The oaf means well; he’s just an overgrown puppy. That he won my sister will never cease to amaze me.
“I’m sure we can bring treats when we visit Sarah,” I say to fill the silence. Liam’s too bewildered to speak. I mean…we do have a rather large, loud entourage: my parents, the parents-to-be, my four brothers, and myself. I’m sure it’s not every day a werewolf pack with their lowly human tour the maternity ward. If three of the founders weren’t human, I’d bet I was the only human in this place.
Liam shoots me a strange look before answering. “Yes, family members are encouraged to bring trinkets from home to make patients feel at ease. Special bedding, family photos—”
“But I’m sure you won’t be in here long enough to get homesick,” I say with a glare at Liam.
“Yes,” he says, turning to Sarah. “A typical were-birth will have mom and babies out of here in thirty-six hours…depending on the time of day. We only release patients during regular business hours—unless they’re vampires…because…you know…but that doesn’t apply here.”
Sarah and Michael’s eyes grow to saucers at the mention of vampires. I want to slug Liam for scaring her…again. Who tasked this idiot with new patient tours? Sarah told me Dr. Bracken Griffiths has a delicate bedside manner, which makes her feel safe, so why stick us with Scary Liam the Loser? All I want is for her first litter to be an easy, happy experience. Is that too much to ask for the woman who has been my best friend and taught me everything?
“Ohh look,” my mother says, waving us to a large window. “It’s the nursery! Look at all the little claws! Cutsey-wootsey little yeti—”
“Actually, that’s a chuchunya hybrid,” Liam says, leaning over Mom’s shoulder. He looks sheepish and backs away a few steps when Dad growls loud enough to ruffle our hair. “A yeti would be taller, with longer limbs for mountain climbing. That stocky guy is built for racing across the Arctic Tundra. However, his mother is human, which is why there’s red woven into his white fur.”
“What a cutie!” I can’t help but squeal when the little guy kicks his foot upward to suck his toes within a huge toothless grin. His other leg waves to us as he rocks himself. Chuchunyamust be very social—or at least his parents are, because he seems to be flirting with Mom. His basket reads,Garrah Chuchunya, son of Gleb and Hannah, born 15 pounds, 2 ounces.“He was born that size? So big!”
I clap my hands over my mouth as my cheeks heat. Sarah pushes her way to the front to read the baby’s stats out loud. “Is that why the parents traveled from the Arctic to have the baby here?”
“No, they brought another couple with them for a medical matter unrelated to Hannah’s pregnancy. However, that little guy decided he wanted to see the nursery for himself. We barely got her to the delivery suite in time for Dr. Griffiths to catch him,” Liams says before excusing himself to make a call. I guess leaving us with a nursery of babies as entertainment is a professional move, because we chat amongst ourselves until he returns.
“How exciting,” mother murmurs as she coos at a pair of tiny avian twins. Their bassinet is ringed with a nest of dried plants and littered with eggshell shards. “Look how these little guys wrap their wings around each other.”
“Those twins are amazing,” Liam replies as he rejoins the group. “Genetically belonging to different fathers and hatching from different eggs, they still bonded in the womb. If you separate them to bathe or feed them, they sob uncontrollably.”
“Have you had similar experiences with werewolves born in the same litter?” Sarah asks with hope shining in the tears in her eyes.
Oh, for Pete’s sake, doesn’t she remember our upbringing? Her littermates, our brothers, teased us mercilessly. As the adopted daughter, I stuck out like a sore thumb—which my brothers loved to remind me of when mother wasn’t inearshot. From stealing my clothes at the river’s edge on bathing day to giving me the bloodiest cuts of meat to gross me out, my brothers took bullying to another level. Maybe I took the heat off her, so she doesn’t remember…or maybe she’s blinded by happy mommy hormones.
