Page 70 of Bone Year

“He’s my patient.” I hold out my hand. “Give me the bracelet.”

She clutches the thin band with Cael’s name on it against her chest, but after a moment she huffs and drops it into my palm. I slip it onto my wrist next to Nella’s, the metal plate cold against my skin.

“Cael Brannock. Room 709.”

Now it’s official.

I push past them before they can argue.

The room is a disaster. Medical supplies are scattered across the floor. A tray overturned, instruments everywhere. The curtains have been ripped half off their rod. And in the center of it all, sitting up in bed like a king on a ruined throne, is Cael Brannock.

He’s old, not frail old but weathered. Ancient. His skin is leathery and scarred, crisscrossed with marks that look like they came from claws and blades and things I don’t want to imagine. His eyes are dark, so dark brown they’re almost black, and when they catch the light, I see his pupils are vertical slits like a snake’s. Demon. He must have been terrifying once. Now he looks tired and furious and ready to burn the whole world down.

His eyes lock onto me the second I step through the door.

“Another one.” His voice is a rasp, raw from shouting. “Another fucking baby healer come to poke and prod and pretend they give a damn.”

“Everyone, out.”

The mender against the wall looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“You can’t⁠—”

“Out. Now.”

Something in my tone makes her move. She edges along the wall, keeping as far from Cael as possible, and slips through the door. I hear whispered protests from the corridor, but I’m already pulling the door shut behind her.

Cael watches me with those dark predator eyes, pupils narrowing to thin slits as he assesses me. “Brave little thing, aren’t you. Stupid, but brave.”

“You’re Cael Brannock.” I step over a pile of scattered bandages. “I’m Maelis. I’ve been assigned to take care of you.”

He sneers. “Take care of me. That’s what they all say. Then they stick needles in my arms and pour potions down my throat and act surprised when I don’t magically get better.” He gestures at his ruined body. “I’ve been rotting in this bed for eight months, girl. Look how well it’s working.”

I crouch down and start picking up the supplies he threw. Bandages. Gauze. A pair of forceps that somehow ended up under the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up.” I set the forceps back on the overturned tray. “Someone has to.”

“I asked them to leave me alone so I could die in peace. Instead they send children to—” He stops and stares at me. “You’re human.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“They let humans in here now?”

“Apparently desperate times.” I right the tray and start organizing supplies onto it. “You going to throw anything else, or are you done?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. I can feel his eyes on my back as I work, assessing, calculating. Trying to figure out what my angle is.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

“Should I be?”

“Everyone else is.”

I turn to face him, a roll of bandages in my hand. “Everyone else didn’t just spend an hour with a fourteen-year-old vampire whose wing is rotting off her body while she tries to pretend she’s not terrified of dying.” I set the bandages on the tray. “After that, one grumpy old demon throwing a tantrum doesn’t really register.”

His vertical pupils widen slightly. For a second, I think he’s going to start throwing things again. Then his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close.