Page 34 of Artificial Moon

A small, mechanicalbeepsounds, and the door unlocks with a soft click.

Once inside, it looks like a normal hospital emergency room, complete with the sterile scent of antiseptic—though not necessary with immortals. Why would a vampire worry about getting an infection? That said, the air is laced with somethingother—magic, power, undead blood. Strangely, the corridor is lined with sleek black tile, just in case I forgot this place wasn’t weird.

A vampire nurse—I’m assuming she’s a vampire, based on her lack of an aura—sits at the check-in desk, her long black hair tied up in a neat bun. Her name tag readsMara. She barely glances up from her tablet computer.

“Who’s the patient?” she asks in a clipped tone.

I lift my good arm. “That would be me.”

She eventually looks up, her dark eyes first flicking over to Kingsley. “Do you vouch for her, Mr. Fulcrum?”

Kingsley nods. “She’s with me. She’s also my main squeeze.”

Mara “hummfs” and types something onto her screen. “You know the rules, Kingsley. Full confidentiality, no human police, no outside records. Payment up front.”

My man pulls out a sleek black card from his wallet and hands it over without hesitation. Mara scans it, nods, and gestures to the hallway beyond the desk. “Room three. Dr. Calloway will be with you shortly.” She returns his card.

Kingsley helps me down the hall, and I take in my surroundings as we pass by open doorways. Each room looks like a normal emergency room—clean, efficient, filled with state-of-the-art equipment. But the patients are anythingbutnormal.

A man with glowing silver eyes and deep claw marks across his chest is being tended to by a tiny elven nurse who moves with practiced efficiency. Another room holds a witch clutching a burned hand, her fingers glowing faintly as if she’d been handling raw energy without proper protection. Further down, I glimpse a vampire with jagged wooden splinters embedded in his abdomen as a grimacing doctor removes them.

So much for privacy.

As Kingsley helps me into a chair in Room Three, I say, “Mainsqueeze?”

“Main and only.”

“That’s better.”

Dr. Calloway enters. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy confidence that speaks of centuries of experience. No surprise, since his scent is unmistakable—werewolf. His navy scrubs are pushed up to reveal forearms crisscrossed with old scars.

He glances at my wound and nods. “Silver bullet?”

“Yeah,” I say, wincing as he peels back the bandage Kingsley hastily applied—bandages found in a first aid box attached to a wall at the nuclear facility. “Didn’t have time to dodge.”

I decide not to mention the silver bolt I’d eaten (figuratively speaking) a decade ago in a hotel in Brea, back when Rand the vampire hunter had had me on his radar.

Dr. Calloway chuckles. “Happens to the best of us. Had a vampire in here last week. Shot twice with silver bullets, once in the neck and the other in the head. She survived.”

And that would be, I believe, Andrew’s resident vamp. Damn, she was really put through the ringer. No wonder she didn’t want to play anymore.

The doc pulls a tray of instruments closer and adjusts the overhead light. “Anesthesia won’t work on you, I presume?”

“Doubtful.”

“Usually doesn’t for your kind. Anesthesia works by dulling nerve receptors. Except your body is regenerating before the drugs can take effect.”

“Which is to say, this is going to hurt?”

He sighs. “Right, Samantha. All I can do is work quickly and efficiently.”

I clench my jaw as he picks up a pair of forceps and a scalpel. His hands are at least steady.

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kingsley steps beside me, his warm hand gripping mine. The thing about immortals is, they don’t get scared off by a little blood. “Squeeze my hand if you need to.”

I glare at him. “I’m not going to squeeze your hand like some damsel in distress.”

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