yeah?”
“I may have seen a snake or two,” Wendy conceded, “but it's not like we did all our training out there. The woods behind the school were just a good place to learn how to climb and jump and run. They weren't that big, so there was little chance of me getting lost, and if I messed up there no one would see. I could get up and try again.”
“Huh. I guess I just figured you did it all in graveyards.” Eddie shook his head.
“Let me tell you a trade secret, Eds.” Wendy leaned conspiratorially forward and pitched her voice low. “Ghosts hate graveyards. Unless it's right after a funeral, the chance of finding a ghost in a graveyard is nil. Vampires, on the other hand…” Laughing, Wendy ducked the playful punch Eddie sent at her shoulder. “What? Don't you believe in vampires?”
He snorted. “With you around, I'd believe almost anything, but I draw the line at vamps.” He glanced up. “Oh, hey, there's Jon. You ready?”
Wendy grabbed her backpack. “Let's go.”
As they passed through UCSF's Neuro-ICU doors, Wendy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, wishing that she had just caught the bus home after all. A new nurse was on duty. She was stricter than the nurses normally were and wouldn't let them onto the ICU floor until both she and Eddie had signed in and she'd jotted down the addresses on their driver's licenses.
Eddie returned his wallet to his back pocket and waited until they were well away from the nursing station to whisper in Wendy's ear. “A little power-hungry, methinks.”
“Shh,” Wendy whispered, stepping past him into her mother's room. The neighboring bed was surrounded by baskets overflowing with pansies and roses, marigolds and cheerful carnations. Cards and stuffed creatures cluttered the bedside table and the window was open, the curtains parted. A fresh breeze scudded the aroma of fresh-cut greens in thick clouds across the room. Behind her Eddie coughed and waved a hand theatrically in front of his face.
On the other side of the curtain, her mother's side of the room was empty of furniture except for the bed, the table, and two plastic chairs stacked against the wall. Eddie navigated various beeping and wheezing machinery to unstack the chairs as Wendy leaned over her mother and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hi Mom,” she said and took her mother's hand. The skin was loose across her knuckles and the bones under Wendy's fingers felt delicate, breakable.
“Hi,” Eddie echoed, nudging the chair against the back of Wendy's thighs. She settled on the edge of the chair and he sat beside her, quiet for once.
Wendy sniffed and squeezed her mother's hand again. “So,” she said, “I think you're looking better. Isn't she looking better, Eds?”
“Much better,” he agreed easily. “Up in no time.”
“And Dad came by yesterday,” Wendy continued, as if Eddie hadn't spoken, “so I know you're not getting lonely over here. You've even got a new neighbor, right?” She glanced over at the curtain separating the beds and was unsurprised to note the young woman in a gaping hospital gown peering around the edge. The silver cord dangling from her navel was thin and brittle, worn away in places, literally hanging by a thread in others. The woman, no more than twenty or so, seemed tired and weak, and her shape drifted away into nothing at the knees.
“Though,” Wendy added in a softer tone, “not for that much longer, I guess.”
Eddie, catching her glance at empty space, winced. “Bad accident?”
“Looks like. She's hardly there. She's gonna fade pretty fast.”
A brusque rap on the doorframe made them both jump. Wendy dropped her mother's hand. A young doctor, one of the few Wendy didn't know, lifted the clipboard off the wall beside the door, sweeping aside her strawberry-colored braid to rifle the papers. Even in scrubs she was tall and elegantly put together, the sort of long-legged, cool-eyed beauty you'd expect to see strutting a
“I may have seen a snake or two,” Wendy conceded, “but it's not like we did all our training out there. The woods behind the school were just a good place to learn how to climb and jump and run. They weren't that big, so there was little chance of me getting lost, and if I messed up there no one would see. I could get up and try again.”
“Huh. I guess I just figured you did it all in graveyards.” Eddie shook his head.
“Let me tell you a trade secret, Eds.” Wendy leaned conspiratorially forward and pitched her voice low. “Ghosts hate graveyards. Unless it's right after a funeral, the chance of finding a ghost in a graveyard is nil. Vampires, on the other hand…” Laughing, Wendy ducked the playful punch Eddie sent at her shoulder. “What? Don't you believe in vampires?”
He snorted. “With you around, I'd believe almost anything, but I draw the line at vamps.” He glanced up. “Oh, hey, there's Jon. You ready?”
Wendy grabbed her backpack. “Let's go.”
As they passed through UCSF's Neuro-ICU doors, Wendy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, wishing that she had just caught the bus home after all. A new nurse was on duty. She was stricter than the nurses normally were and wouldn't let them onto the ICU floor until both she and Eddie had signed in and she'd jotted down the addresses on their driver's licenses.
Eddie returned his wallet to his back pocket and waited until they were well away from the nursing station to whisper in Wendy's ear. “A little power-hungry, methinks.”
“Shh,” Wendy whispered, stepping past him into her mother's room. The neighboring bed was surrounded by baskets overflowing with pansies and roses, marigolds and cheerful carnations. Cards and stuffed creatures cluttered the bedside table and the window was open, the curtains parted. A fresh breeze scudded the aroma of fresh-cut greens in thick clouds across the room. Behind her Eddie coughed and waved a hand theatrically in front of his face.
On the other side of the curtain, her mother's side of the room was empty of furniture except for the bed, the table, and two plastic chairs stacked against the wall. Eddie navigated various beeping and wheezing machinery to unstack the chairs as Wendy leaned over her mother and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hi Mom,” she said and took her mother's hand. The skin was loose across her knuckles and the bones under Wendy's fingers felt delicate, breakable.
“Hi,” Eddie echoed, nudging the chair against the back of Wendy's thighs. She settled on the edge of the chair and he sat beside her, quiet for once.
Wendy sniffed and squeezed her mother's hand again. “So,” she said, “I think you're looking better. Isn't she looking better, Eds?”
“Much better,” he agreed easily. “Up in no time.”
“And Dad came by yesterday,” Wendy continued, as if Eddie hadn't spoken, “so I know you're not getting lonely over here. You've even got a new neighbor, right?” She glanced over at the curtain separating the beds and was unsurprised to note the young woman in a gaping hospital gown peering around the edge. The silver cord dangling from her navel was thin and brittle, worn away in places, literally hanging by a thread in others. The woman, no more than twenty or so, seemed tired and weak, and her shape drifted away into nothing at the knees.
“Though,” Wendy added in a softer tone, “not for that much longer, I guess.”
Eddie, catching her glance at empty space, winced. “Bad accident?”
“Looks like. She's hardly there. She's gonna fade pretty fast.”
A brusque rap on the doorframe made them both jump. Wendy dropped her mother's hand. A young doctor, one of the few Wendy didn't know, lifted the clipboard off the wall beside the door, sweeping aside her strawberry-colored braid to rifle the papers. Even in scrubs she was tall and elegantly put together, the sort of long-legged, cool-eyed beauty you'd expect to see strutting a
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