American Demon - Kim Harrison Page 0,60

it. “Which is okay,” I added when Jenks made a rude sound. “But I don’t want the girls to miss out on too small a space filled with too much family.”

Ivy sighed, fully understanding. “I’ll ask,” she said again, sounding resigned this time.

“Thanks, Ivy,” I said, slowing as we reached the glass-fronted medical lab with its orange plastic chairs in the hall for overflow. There was only one person in the rolling office chair inside, slumped before an archaic computer monitor. Behind him were several bays with narrow gurneys and pull-around curtains. Deeper still were closed rooms for situations that demanded more privacy. The tech’s head was down over his phone, and I swear I could hear happy phone-game music through the thick glass walls.

“It’s hopping here, huh?” Jenks said, and Ivy motioned for us to wait in the water fountain alcove, tucked out of sight.

“You’d be surprised how touchy the older vamps have gotten about unexplained serial murders,” she said. “They’ve been shunting the domestic disturbances upstairs.”

“Good for us,” I whispered as I sized up the tech. The Were looked more than capable of handling anything we could give him, his tattoos and scruffy muscle at odds with his reading glasses and lab coat. But if he was manning the desk alone, he’d have to be able to work the computer and handle a testy witch or Were who didn’t want to give a blood sample to prove he or she had been bitten before being put into I.S. custody, not after. One was covered under insurance, the other wasn’t.

“Give me a second,” Ivy said as she undid the top two buttons of her blouse.

“What are you doing?” Jenks said flatly, an odd copper-colored dust spilling from him.

“Improvising,” she said, a faint blush rising to make her seem younger. “Wait here.”

But that was not what it looked like she was doing when she pulled her long hair from its scrunchy and shifted her bra to show her cleavage. Squaring her shoulders, she sauntered into medical, her voice sultry as she purred, “Hello.”

“Improvising,” I echoed as Jenks hovered at my shoulder, clearly shocked as Ivy said it was too busy downstairs and asked the tech if he would look at her wrist if he had a moment. Going in without a plan was really loosey-goosey for Ivy. Nina was clearly having a positive effect.

“Damn, she’s good,” Jenks said in admiration as the guy immediately escorted her to the back area, getting her up on a gurney so he could press close and fondle her wrist with impunity. “Oh, please. Do we have to watch?” Jenks added as Ivy took his glasses off and laughed, throwing her head back to show off her long, smooth neck. “Blau-u-u-uhhh,” he added when Ivy slid from the gurney to pull the Were by his lapels to a back room.

“It’s better than hitting him on the head,” I said as I crept out of hiding. But I couldn’t say for sure if I believed it.

“Let me loop the cameras,” Jenks said as I opened the door, and I paused, still in the hall.

“She’s not going to get in trouble for this, is she?”

“Not if I trip the cameras.” Jenks hummed into the office, rising high to stay out of their range as he tripped one, then the other. Turning, he gave me a thumbs-up, and I walked in as if I owned the place.

I went to the abandoned chair, wincing when I found it still warm. The computer facing me was so old, it had green print. I jiggled the mouse, slumping when a password prompt popped up. It smelled better in here, but medical would have its own exhaust system to prevent a frightened, hurt vampire from setting off the building. A faint scent of vinegar lingered, and my eyebrows rose at the prominently displayed placard informing detainees of their right upon request to immediate blood, bane, or an underground facility.

“Nice,” I said, and Jenks came back from his sweep, immediately beginning to poke around the desktop clutter. I smiled as he tried a test-tube cap on as a hat, then threw it aside. “Hey, Jenks,” I said, realizing this was the first time we’d been alone in days. “I just wanted to say thanks for spending the winter with your kids.” He jerked, his dust flaring before he turned, a plastic-coated paper clip in hand. “I’m proud of you,” I said, glad that I wouldn’t be worrying about him. “I know moving in

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