Blood Trial Supernatural Battle (Vampire Towers #1) - Kelly St. Clare Page 0,37

her gaze skimmed over my surname.

“Right this way, Miss Le Spyre,” she said in hushed tones.

I’d never be free of it. “Just Basi, please.”

“Of course,” she stuttered. “If you could lie down on this bed. An attendant will be with you in a minute.”

No doubt they’d be told who I was.

I deposited my Toggles bags on an empty chair and hoisted up onto the medical seat. It was more comfortable than my bed.

I flopped my head to each side.

Tubes ran into the wall, disappearing from sight. Is that what they’d hook me up to? My mind summoned the presence of giant vats behind the walls, filled with blood—though I was pretty sure donated blood came in individual plastic pouches. That’s how they did it on Truth Ranges anyway.

“Miss Le Spyre,” a man said.

I squinted at a middle-age male nurse. “Just Basi.”

“Of course. I’m Nurse Tim. There are a few questions before we start.”

I tuned out, nodding and answering when I had to, and sitting still as he strapped a Velcro band to my upper arm and pierced my vein.

I watched the dark red surge down the tube to where it disappeared behind the wall to whatever lay beyond.

“Good veins,” he murmured.

Why did nurses say that? I mean, I was sure large veins were easier to stab, but I found it hard to take compliments to my venous system. “Thanks.”

“You know…” Tim started.

I knew that tone of voice.

“—the donor centre is a community-funded centre. This year we’re short of our goal. If we don’t reach it, we’ll have to close down. Thousands of people rely on our centre to survive.”

The curse of the rich. Always being asked for money.

Each year, I gave to charities with causes I felt strongly for—led by my grandmother’s example. I wanted to help those in need. But when places like this learned who I was, they saw a dollar figure. It got really old.

“I’m sorry, Tim. I don’t have any money to spare.”

“Oh… I must have misread your last name.”

“Le Spyre is my last name,” I answered, hoping against hope he’d drop it. “I don’t have any money to spare. I hope that the donor centre reaches its goal though. It’s a great cause.”

My effort to soften the blow fell on deaf ears.

He pressed his lips together, sticking a plaster over the small wound. “There you go. All finished.”

Nurse Tim turned to leave.

I died a little inside. “The grocery voucher?”

The nurse wasn’t quick enough in hiding his accusatory look. “What? The incentive?”

Contempt filled his words. That I wouldn’t put up with. Sitting, I fixed him with a direct look. “You give the voucher to people who donate blood, correct?”

Tim averted his eyes and ducked out of the curtained-off space. A minute later, ferocious whispers erupted on the other side. Even with the coincidental timing, I heard enough to confirm I was the subject.

Swallowing hard, I stood and picked up my Toggles bags.

Shoving back the curtains, I had the minute satisfaction of seeing the gathered group of nurses jump.

Face impassive, I scanned them all.

Tim approached with my voucher, holding it out.

“Thank you, Nurse Tim.” I took the voucher and dipped my head like a fucking queen before turning to leave.

Just get outside.

“You could change thousands of lives in one second with the money you have.”

I halted at the woman’s voice.

“You rich people have no idea.” She continued.

No, we didn’t. But in this regard, the woman really was barking up the wrong tree. I channelled my inner grandmother, still facing the exit.

“Do you know how the rich stay rich?” My tone could have peeled paint.

For the first time this week, I was the predator.

“They keep the rest of the world poor and compliant,” I finished. No matter how much I disagreed with their tactics, the truth of the statement was incontestable.

Head held high, I walked out…

… Leaving my battered spirit on the floor.

9:50 a.m.

Clint would be here any minute. Only the plan at the donor centre worked out. So I was onto my last idea—to bluff like this city was named after me.

I had my pack on with all my important stuff, just in case he took the keys. I’d have to ask for help from Tommy to shift the stuff out and highly doubted Clint would give me the day to get it done. The bastard would make me arrange a time and probably charge for it.

But I had a few negotiation points up my sleeve. I hoped.

Turned out Clint was punctual when it came to money