Nightmare (The Noctalis Chronicles 2)

The nurse, who doesn't look much older than me, takes charge, wheeling my mother in and whisking her away to an exam room. She's wearing scrubs with kittens on them, for Christ's sake.

“You can wait here,” she says, and the swinging door bangs behind her. Wait, what?

“I should go with her,” I say to no one in particular.

The doors swing back and forth, the space between them getting smaller with each swing. Soon they're still. Closed. Smells assault me like arrows. The strongest is that weird cleaning solution that you never smell anywhere else outside of a hospital. There's blood, too, but it's covered up by smells of plastic and antiseptic and medicine, so it isn't appetizing. Not that it's normally appetizing. Much. I want to slam my head against the wall. Maybe I'll break my nose. Hell, I'm already in a hospital.

“You should wait here. She will be fine.” Peter sits down, which is a strange thing for him to do. when it comes to sitting or standing, he always chooses to stand.

I whirl around. “She's not going to be fine, Peter. She's going to die.”

“That is not your fault.”

“No, but this is!” I start pacing back and forth in the waiting room. The receptionist behind the sliding glass window watches me like I'm going to pull out a gun and threaten to shoot up the place. I wonder if the glass is bulletproof.

Peter's calm voice cuts through the noise in my head. “It is not. You must not blame yourself.”

“I shouldn't have told her.” Here come the tears. Peter stands and pulls me into his arms, my tears soaking into his shirt. I'm overwhelmed by his cool scent, which is like inhaling a Wintergreen Lifesaver. It cuts through the haze of self-loathing, but only for a second. Then I'm right back to hating and blaming myself.

“Ava-Claire.” His voice makes me look up. He's doing that thing where he kind of pulls me in with his eyes. I remember that first time he did it. I let it happen again, giving myself up for just a second. In that time, I would have let him do anything. Drain me dry if he wanted to. I'm sure he does, but wouldn't. I think.

“You cannot blame yourself for something you had no control over. It will not help you, or your mother. You need to sit down and wait.” I'm working on it when my phone rings. Shit. It's Dad. He's yelling before I can even say hello.

“Where are you, where is your mother? I came home and you were both gone. What's happened?” His voice is frantic, bordering on absolute crazy. I wish he'd slow down so I can tell him.

“Mom just had a little episode. We're at the hospital.”

“Why didn't you call me?” He's getting hysterical. Any minute now his voice is going to go up several octaves.

“Because we just got here.” I'm trying to be calm.

There's a lot of weird sounds in the background. I have no idea what he's doing. “You should have called me right when it happened. What's going on?” Crash. Bang.

“I don't know. The nurse took her away.” Stupid nurse with her kitten scrubs. How could I entrust my mother to a nurse who wore kitten scrubs?

There's a slam on the other end, as if he'd punched something. “Well, go find her! I need to talk to whoever is in charge.”

“Why don't you just come over?” He growls in anger, but I hear the jingling of keys. Did my loan officer, white-bread father just growl?

“I'll be there in a few minutes. Don't let them do anything.” I want to tell him that I think they pretty much go by the rule first do no harm, but jokes probably wouldn't be taken very well in this situation.

He hangs up without further ado. I sit down, putting my head in my hands.

“My dad's on the way,” I say, even though Peter already knows this, having good enough hearing to have heard my dad yelling on the other line. People in California could probably still hear him. He sits next to me and rubs my back.

“That feels really nice.” Tingly nice. Sexy nice. I should not be thinking sexy thoughts when my mother is in the hospital. This cements the truth that I am a horrible human being.

“Good.”

“You should go.” He doesn't need to be here for this.

“I am fine. The only blood I desire is yours,” he says, as if reading my mind.

“Oh, right. Sorry, I'm a little freaked out.” His thumbs travel up and down my spine, weaving in and out of the nubs of my vertebrae.

“It is fine.”

“Ava Sullivan?” A voice says, making my head snap toward her voice. It's the nurse again. Seriously, how is she old enough to wear those scrubs?

I stand. Peter keeps a hand on my back, as if trying to restrain me. “How is she?”

“She's fine. Dr. Young wants to do a few tests, but other than that you can take her home. Is there someone else here with you?” She glances at Peter and her eyes contract a little and she takes a tiny step back. Who's afraid of my big bad boyfriend? I also notice she doesn't give me any details. Because my tiny brain might not be able to handle them.

“My dad's coming.” She looks relieved that an actual adult will be on the way. She checks her ponytail to make sure it's in place.

“Good. You'll need to go to the pharmacy to get a new prescription. That should help with the fainting episodes.”

“Episodes?” She looks at me like I'm a moron. I thought nurses were supposed to be caring and warm and comforting. This girl, whose name is Amber, according to her lanyard, is none of those things.

“How long will it take your father to get here?” She looks around as if we're hiding him somewhere.

“A few minutes, depending on how many laws he breaks.” She doesn't smile. I really don't like this girl. An image bursts in my mind of me reaching out and snapping her neck. I take one step back and try to clear my head of it.

We sort of stare at each other for a little while, and then Dad bursts in and the adults take over. I'm shoved to the side and Dad bashes the nurse with questions. She's nicer to him, taking his arm and leading him into a corner so they can talk all serious and adult-like. It makes me want to roll my eyes, but I don't. Instead I look at Peter, who's staring straight ahead.

I don't know what to do. Clearly, Dad has this in hand, but I don't want to go until I hear that Mom's okay. Dad and the nurse talk a little more, and then the door bangs open and there she is. I want to run to her and give her a hug, but Dad gets there first. The smell of his blood floats over to me, but for once, I can ignore it.

“I'm fine, Sam. Please don't hover. I just want to go home.” She puts one hand on each armrest of the chair and pushes herself up. Dad grabs onto her arms and she lets him. She can stand, and wants to do it on her own, but she'd rather let him feel like he's useful. Her eyes seek his, to reassure him that she's fine. Then she finds me, reaching out, struggling to find my hand. I give it to her, relieved that her grip is strong and warm.