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And nobody seems especially interested in involving ordinary emergency services anymore.

I point toward the SUV. “You people understand how this looks, right?”

Anya tugs my hand.“Please come home with me,” she urges.

I look at her again.

She’s still trembling.

Whatever just happened, she is a child who stood in front of a speeding car and watched a stranger get hit by it instead.

I should go to the hospital.

I know that.

I should also call someone.

Except my phone is currently lying somewhere on the school driveway with what looks like a tire mark across the screen.

Fantastic.

My nine-hundred-dollar phone has also made the ultimate sacrifice.

“Your house has an actual doctor?” I ask Anya.

“Yes,” Anya says eagerly.

“A real one?” I ask.

“Yes,” Anya says.

“Not one of those people who recommends herbal tea for internal bleeding?”

Anya frowns. “No.”

“Good.”

Kirill sighs beside me. “Ms. Bennett, if you wish to go to the hospital, I will take you there,” Kirill says. “But the physician can examine you properly at the house first, and if imaging is necessary, transportation can be arranged immediately.”

I study him. He doesn't sound threatening.

Which, strangely, makes all of this more suspicious.

“Why does somebody have medical equipment in their house?” I ask.

Kirill gives me a long look. “It’s a large house,” he says.

“That answered absolutely nothing.”

“I know.”

I stare at him.

Definitely has a sense of humor, though terrible circumstances under which to discover it.

Anya squeezes my fingers again. “Please,” she whispers.

There goes the lip.