Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei by L.J. Hayward Page B

was. While it rang, she stood and wandered, unable to sit still while her thoughts tumbled one over the other. Finally, someone answered and, finding what might be an office, Erin identified herself, grateful it was a nurse she knew rather well.
    “Hey, Erin, we w ere wondering where you’d got to,” Nadine said in that soft voice all hospital workers seemed to adopt late at night.
    “Something unavoidable at work came up. How’s he doing?”
    “Really good. His latest blood culture came back negative.”
    Erin let out a long, painful sigh. Inexplicable tears stung her eyes. She fumbled her way into the chair at the desk.
    “Honey,” Nadine murmured, that sixth sense of nurses kicking in, “it’ll be okay. He’s strong, you know that. Another day or two and he’ll be ready to go home.”
    “Thank you, Nadine,” Erin said, forcing back the tears.
    “Get some sleep, and that’s an order from a medical professional.”
    “I’ll try,” Erin said and they made their goodbyes.
    Sitting back in the office chair, something eased inside Erin’s chest. Seems like they’d beaten the Devil—or God—once more. How many more times they could do it remained to be seen.
    The office was illuminated by soft moonlight coming in through the open curtains over the windows. It was small, crowded by the desk and bookshelves against all available wall space. Erin turned on a lamp and wandered around, looking at the spines of the books. Chemistry and biology text books, clinical pathology references, medical texts and journals, several shelves of dog-eared detective novels; some horror, though judging by the amount dust on them, she guessed Matt hadn’t read them in some time—probably not since his own life had turned into something of a horror story. His history on display.
    At last, she found the books that most reflected his life at the moment. Eight books about vampires, some of which looked very old, a couple on werewolves, a ‘field guide’ to supernatural creatures and a dozen, spiral bound notebooks. Pulling one out, Erin opened it to a page of neat handwriting.
    Under a date was a short, concise entry.
    Susan spoke today. She said she wanted to kill me and drink my blood. I asked her why she wanted to do that and she refused to speak again. A Pos given. She slept for twenty hours.
    Am I doing the right thing?
    He didn’t answer his own question and on the next line was another entry, detailing the effects of differing blood groups.
    Susan was Mercy’s true name. At least, the name of the human she had once been. The date showed the entry to be a couple of years old. Flicking through the journal, Erin noted that Matt began referring to her as Mercy not long later. It was clear that as the vampire emerged from the ruins of the human, she was not Susan Greyson anymore.
    Erin put the journal back on the shelf without reading any more. It felt wrong to pry into that part of their lives, especially when she wanted nothing to do with them.
    She returned to the couch, determined to stay awake throughout the remainder of the night. Someone needed to be on watch for mad vampires or demons.
    The next thing she knew was someone swearing.
    Sunlight peeked through the curtains opposite the couch. Erin sat up, blinked the sleep out of her eyes and winced at the twinge of pain in her lower back. Couch sleeping was for the young. The room came into slow focus and she remembered where she was.
    More muttered swearing came from somewhere behind her. She stood, realised she had to pee and dashed upstairs to the bathroom she’d found the night before. Relieved, she came back down and found Matt stalking past the bottom of the stairs. He only wore a pair of loose track pants.
    “Morning,” he groused.
    “You’re chipper.” She followed him into the kitchen, watching for signs of irrational rage—beyond the obvious, that was.
    “Blue screen of death. Cornflakes?”
    “Sorry?”
    He pulled a box of cereal from a cupboard. “Do