“At the ER, they wanted to know what bit him. It was the only thing I could think of.”
“What are we supposed to do, bring a dead coyote to city hall?”
“At least they didn’t ask us for a dead vampire.” But that’s what it felt like. “Let’s just pay the bill and fix up the house. If they want to comelook for a coyote, it’s not like they’re going to find one.”
For once, Vlad agreed with me. “We don’t have another option.”
Grabbing the car keys, I said, “I’ll be back as soon as I pay this bill.” I chugged the rest of my No Fear so I’d be cool in town.
“Do you want me to come?” Vlad was already grabbing his coat.
“No!” I shouted before the door slammed behind me.
I pulled the hearse into a parking spot at the hospital. This time, no one redirected me to the morgue, which was nice. Nothing makes you feel more like a vampire than being sent straight to the morgue upon arrival. How many times had I fallen asleep and been mistaken for dead at a party, back when I used to go to parties?
The billing office was technically closed, but by some miracle I caught a woman as she was locking up. “Hi!” I called. “Is there any way I could pay a bill real quick?”
With a look of disappointment she said, “You have two minutes.”
“Thank you!” I said as she turned her attention to the computer. “I’m paying the bill for Wayne Jarvis.”
“J-A-R—?”
“V-I-S,” I finished. We almost sounded like we were doing a cheer.
After a moment of scrolling, she said, “Wayne Jarvis, here he is. That’ll be one thousand six hundred forty-two dollars and thirty-three cents.”
For once I was grateful to be undead—no health care required. Insurance paperwork and even more bills might be more than I could handle.
With a swipe of my card, I crossed this task off my list. As I left the office, I waved cheerfully and stood a little straighter. I was that much more broke than before, but I had one less problem to worry about now.
Instead of following the red exit signs out of the hospital, I took a left and walked in the opposite direction. This is where they kept the blood. Sure, I was on the No Fear diet now, but it was good to have options.
“Miss—” a weak voice called from one of the rooms I passed.
I peeked in to see an old woman lying in bed, nearly the same color as the sheets, patchy tufts of hair like a baby bird. On her muted TV, a news anchor was presumably explaining important world events.
“Hello,” I said. “I don’t work here. I was…”
“I don’t need anything, except some company. Would you do an old woman a favor and say hi?”
“Just to chat?”
The woman nodded. “I could use a friend.”
Oh. My antennae went up.
I sat down in the chair by her bed. The view from her window was all small-town charm, an adorable street with gingerbread houses. “I could use a friend, too, or so I’ve been told.”
“Want to play cards?” she asked. “The night nurse plays cards with me, but I’m not sure where she is. Doing her job, I suppose.”
I nodded and dealt us both a hand and put the pile in the middle.
“Go Fish?” I asked.
She harrumphed. “Really?”
“I don’t know many games.” All the rules in card games—learning them was worse than reading my mail. “What are you in for?” I asked her like she was in prison.
