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Next time, she’ll know exactly who she’s dealing with.
4
FREYA
I’ve never liked hospitals.They’re always so bright. So sterile.
But I’m not here for me. I’m here for Damian.
One of the perks of visiting the hospitallongafter visiting hours are officially over is that there’s no one here. I mean, yeah, there’s the patients, and the doctors, the nurses, the support staff and all that. But the doctors and nurses know exactly what they’re here to do, and how they’re going to do it. The patients have their shit together, too. They’re here to get better.
It’s the visitors that screw up the vibes at a hospital. Thetourists.
But at one in the morning, the floor is basically a ghost town.
Perfect.
The long fluorescent hallway stretches ahead, the white tiles gleaming under the harsh light. I slip my hood off as I pass the nurses’ station, seeing the older woman with kind eyes and a smile that never fades, no matter how many patients or how much misery she sees in a day. She glances up from her clipboard as I walk by, her face lighting up when she spots me.
“Well, look who it is,” she calls out, her voice soft but warm. “How are you doing today, hon?”
I smile as I slip my bag off my back and unzip the front pocket. “Hey, Delores.”
“You know, if you’re here any more frequently, people are going to start thinking you work here,” she chuckles.
“That, or they’re going to start asking whyyoukeep letting me in when it’s not visiting hours.”
Visiting hours are much, much earlier. As in, when the sun is still out.
That’s a no-go for me and my xeroderma pigmentosum.
I know, it sounds like a spell from Harry Potter. It’s not. It means I’m allergic to the fuckingsun.
I mean, I’m not a total vampire. Icango outside when it’s daylight. It’s just that to do so, I literally have to cover every inch of my body in something thick enough to keep the UV rays off my skin. If not, I’ll burn like a marshmallow that somebody forgot in the campfire. Itsucks.
The first time I slipped in here after hours, Delores was the nurse on duty. I gave her a sob story about not being able to come earlier, and she took pity on me. The next time, though, she smelled bullshit.
The third time, I kept in mind the Fleetwood Mac pin she always wears on her ID lanyard, and brought her a framed microphone stand scarf signed by Stevie Nicks.
Yeah, I totally bought Delores’ love.
No, I’m not ashamed to admit it.
“You here to see Mr. Sexy?”
I make a puke face. Delores howls with laughter.
“Hey, if he didn’t want the nickname, he should’ve been an uglier coma patient. Just saying, hon.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that’s my brother we’re talking about?”
Delores snorts. “You keep saying that, and I keep seeing zero resemblance?—”
“Well, he’sbasicallymy brother,” I smile. “How’s he doing?”
“Same as usual, honey.”
Damian is pretty much the reason behind all the upheaval in my and Annika’s world these days. A couple of weeks ago, Damian and a handful of Nikolayev men walked into a club only to find Aoki Jura, head of the Jura-kai Yakuza, waiting for him along with some ofhismen.
