Page 37 of Nightmares and Numerology

Ugh. She had a point, and I hated it. I liked Occam’s Razor. The simplest answer was probably the truth. Andrea couldn’t be a vampire. I’d seen her in daylight. She hadn’t even layered up to limit her exposure. She looked like a gorgeous former model dressed to emphasize her huge boobs and long legs. Maybe she was a demon?

Dr. Sherman cleared her throat, drawing my attention back to her. I took another turn, moving past her.

“We’ve been going through a messy divorce for almost three years now. The only things Rodney tells me about are court dates to decide what we’re splitting next. If he developed anything in the interim, I don’t know about it. You might call his mother; they were close.”

I gave her the number, which she wrote down politely. She still looked unimpressed with me.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that this is a serious condition. Life-threatening, even, if we can’t figure out what caused it. Our team has exhausted most imaging and blood tests. Rodney’s losing blood cells, and we’re hoping to see a physical cause we can’t spot on his MRI. He’s probably going to need a bone marrow transplant at some point. Would you be willing to get tested?”

“Yes,” I said automatically.

“You’re kinder than I would be. I wouldn’t even spit on him, let alone allow someone to stab a large needle into me and take my cells.”

I understood Indie’s hostility. I really did. But it was the difference between us. I’d help Rodney even if I hated him. He deserved a chance to be better, even if he actively spurned it. If I could save his life, I would. Then I’d cut him out of minecompletely. Surely he could leave me alone if I saved his life?

Dr. Sherman pelted me with questions, most of which I couldn’t answer. I used to be able to rattle off everything about Rodney. Now, my information was like Swiss cheese. I didn’t like it, because the gaps in my knowledge might mean the difference between life and death.

It took another five minutes, but Dr. Sherman finally exhausted the topics she’d come to discuss. Another five minutes passed before my allies found me still pacing the small waiting room. I’d been forced to wait most of the day for news about Rodney, and by the time everyone was available to help, it was evening. It was just as well, since the most powerful witch in the county couldn’t leave her house until after dark. Pretending to be a vampire came with certain downsides, such as a lack of sunbathing. Wanda wouldn’t burn up, but her enemies had to believe she would. Thus, we were planning to defy hospital rules. There would be at least six more people in the room than allowed in this wing, and it was happening well after visiting hours. More of the Confusion Oil would help smooth things over, but we still needed a distraction to facilitate the ritual.

Wanda made a beeline for the coffee machine in the corner, seemingly indifferent to the fact that it was probably strong, if not completely overdone. She dumped a generous portion of creamer and sugar into the cup before knocking it back. Her tall, overbearing warlock cousin made a face at her.

“I don’t understand how you can chug that stuff,” he said, folding himself into a chair opposite her.

“I drink the stuff you make, right? It’s about the same. I’ve been desensitized by your utter lack of skill in the area. I could probably drink motor oil now, and it would have about the same consistency.”

Maverick flicked his fingers idly, and the cup burst. Wanda made a spluttering sound as the last droplets went flying,spraying her face and hair. A brief scuffle ensued, ending with both of them looking like they’d been mauled by a malicious hairdresser. Maverick’s hair was standing on end, as though teased for an ‘80s retro look. Wanda’s had an oily texture, as if she’d applied product all over it. She glared at Maverick.

“I’m going to make you pay for that later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Maverick said, baring his teeth in a snarl of challenge. I didn’t think he was really as angry as he was pretending to be. This was just how the two of them were together—like siblings.

A woman with dark skin and a killer smile stepped between them, hands up in a pacifying gesture.

“As much as I’d like to see you hex some sense into Mav, this isn’t the time or place, Wanda. You started it.”

Wanda sighed. “I suppose I did. Sorry, Mav.”

Maverick jumped, looking startled for just a moment, before accepting the apology with a nod. Did he really not get apologized to often enough for this to be novel? If that was the case, I needed to befriend the poor man. I said sorry often, even for things I wasn’t guilty of. It was the result of being exposed to my very Southern great-aunt at a formative age. He didn’t quite look at Wanda when he muttered his return apology.

Olga stared at a stack of materials displaying Andrea’s face. Someone had tucked it near the coffee machine. From the number of signs on lawns I’d seen on the way over, she was popular. The Colgate smile on Andrea’s face had faded into the background, just another political ad until she’d started dating my ex. Then it had felt personal. Now I had no clue what to make of it.

“What happens if she turns out to be a monster?” I asked quietly. “Isn’t it illegal or something for her to run for mayor?”

I still hadn’t read all the Hollow’s bylaws. The document was as thick as my waist, which meant it was a beast, evenfor someone as familiar with the literature as I was. What little Indigo had explained was deceptively simple. Secrecy was paramount, no matter how that looked. Memory charms or potions were standard if there was an accident, but mostly, monsters were supposed to keep to themselves. It was safest for everyone that way. Except Andrea was insinuating herself into a mundane government position.

“Nein,” Olga said with a frown. “It vasn’t somezing zee founders anticipated, so it vas not explicitly banned. Discouraged perhaps, ya, but not illegal.”

“Not registering is,” Wanda pointed out. “If Andrea is something inhuman, like Lydia suspects, she’ll be in deep trouble for not coming to the Council when she first declared her intention to move here. I called Taliyah and Roy both and there’s no record of Andrea consulting the Council, even in passing. Taliyah says she’s owned a residence for a while, but isn’t regularly in it. It’s for political purposes, so she can satisfy the requirement of being a resident.”

If Andrea was a monster and had been hurting Rodney, then we had a bigger problem than breaking a few Hollow rules. If she was preying on him somehow, it could put all of us at risk. Rodney’s symptoms made no sense. If he didn’t die, he’d become a medical mystery, which didn’t exactly help us remain covert.

“Say we find out she’s not human,” I started. “Then let’s say she gets into office. What does that mean for us?”

“A very bad time,” Indigo said. “If she is something inhuman and she intentionally concealed that fact, she probably means us harm. The last time someone did that, it was one of Murrain’s fellow Masked Lords.”

My stomach performed an uneasy roll as I thought that one over. Indigo and I had barely survived Animus, one of the monsters who’d organized a trafficking and murder cottage industry in the shadowy corners of the magical world.

“Do you recognize her?”

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