Page 26 of How to Stake a Vampire
I had a feeling this was going to be interesting for all the wrong reasons.
9
A PINT TOO FAR
Springhill General straddleda low hill in the woods, north of the Crossroads. A foreboding dark limestone complex, it boasted buttresses, pointed arch windows, and gargoyles that seemed to leer down at anything approaching the heavy oak doors. Ivy crawled up the walls in brooding tangles and a central tower pierced the sky with dramatic flair.
All in all, the place looked like a Gothic monument to medical misery.
“This is so cool,” Bo enthused, nails clicking on the stone steps we were climbing.
Gavin leaned closer to me. “Why does he look so happy?”
My mouth pressed to a thin line at the unhealthy gleam in the Husky’s eyes.
“No doubt he’s contemplating the various ways we could meet our demise inside this place so he can gossip about it on tonight’s social howl.”
Gavin looked hurt at this.
Bo wagged his tail innocently. “I think it would make for a great headline. It might even cheer Gus up.”
“Who’s Gus?” Didi asked with the gruesome fascination of someone watching a train wreck.
“The bulldog who lives across the road from Marshmallow.”
“Who’s Marsh—?” Didi started. “Never mind.”
I hesitated, certain I wasn’t going to like the answer but asking the question anyway. “What’s wrong with Gus?”
“His humans got him fixed last week,” Bo replied with the nonchalant air of a dog who was still in full possession of his meatballs. “He’s been sulking about his lost masculine essence ever since. Rosie even brought him her favorite bone to make him feel better. You know, the one she dug up from the cemetery.”
Barney curled a lip.
“Who’s Rosie?” Gavin hissed.
“The Jack Russell who lives five doors down from Gus,” I said absentmindedly.
“It’s worrying how much you know about your dog’s social life,” Didi remarked.
Since we’d just entered the building, I decided to let that insult ride.
The interior of the hospital was fractionally more appealing than its outward appearance. LessFrankensteinand moreThe Exorcist. My wolf’s nose twitched at the scents wafting through the building as we crossed a gloomy foyer and presented ourselves at reception.
The banshee behind the desk stiffened when we explained the purpose of our visit. She spoke to a colleague in a low voice before coming around from behind the desk.
“This way, please. We’ve been expecting you.”
Bo earned a side-eye as he strolled beside me.
“You know pets aren’t allowed in the hospital, right?” the banshee said thinly.
“He’s a service animal.”
The banshee frowned at the Husky. “What kind of service does he offer?”
“Sass and muffin testing.”
Bo straightened proudly.
