“Actually, I was hoping I could talk with you a bit about Max and his treatment.” He leaned over the counter and lowered his voice. “Privately, if that’s all right?”
“Oh. Um.” She frowned at the computer, uncertain. “There’s always supposed to be someone—”
“Just for a second. It’s … you know … Renegade stuff. And it’s important.”
A touch of curiosity entered her face. “Of course. Let me just close this out…” She logged off the computer, then tucked the fork into the bed of lettuce and stood. Adrian led the way, passing by the alcove where he knew Max was waiting. Adrian flashed a discreet thumbs-up, then paused, facing the nurse. He thought he heard the quiet shuffle of a hospital gown a few feet away from them, but it was hard to tell with the constant thrum and beeps of machinery in the hospital wing.
“So…,” Adrian started. “First, I want you to know how impressed my family has been with the care Max has gotten here. It’s been apparent how top-notch the staff is, and we just … we really appreciate how attentive all you nurses and doctors have been, and the physical therapists and everyone, really. It’s clear how much you guys really care for your patients.”
The woman flushed. “Well, we do our best.”
Adrian smiled at her. “It shows.”
He spied movement at the nurses’ station. The microphone being lifted from the intercom system.
“And we know how unconventional Max’s treatment has been,” Adrian continued, trying to keep his attention on the nurse. “I know the prodigy healers who work here shoulder a lot of the responsibility, but your civilian staff has really stepped up to help Max recover, and to ensure he received … just … the best care possible, even without a prodigy healer.”
“Thank you,” said the nurse, even as hesitation entered her tone. “But was there something you needed to discuss…?” She started to glance toward the desk.
“Medicine!” said Adrian.
She jumped, startled.
“We, uh … we know there’s been some shortage of certain pharmaceuticals lately, especially after the theft that was all over the news a while back, and we wanted to check if … you’re well supplied. With everything that—”
A speaker crackled overhead, followed by a voice erupting through the hall. Max’s voice, but lowered in an attempt to sound older, repeating the words that Adrian had coached him on, having heard them a couple of times during his visits.
“Three-two-one! Three-two-one! All available emergency personnel, report to room one-sixteen immediately! We need all prodigy healers to report immediately. Repeat, this is a three-two-one alert!”
The nurse cocked her head. “I wonder who that was,” she mused. “Must be a new intern.”
“That sounded really important,” said Adrian, as out of the corner of his eye he saw the microphone replace itself on the intercom. “I’d better let you go. We can discuss this later.”
“Oh, that alert only applies to prodigy hea—”
“Keep up the good work!” Adrian clapped her on the arm, then walked past her, past the desk. “See?” he whispered, hoping Max was beside him as he swung into the next corridor. “No healers, no prodigies, no worries. Come on, this way.” He headed toward the southern elevator bank.
“Okay, this is sort of fun,” Max whispered. “I feel like a spy in one of those old action flicks.”
Amusement twitched at Adrian’s cheeks, and he wondered if it was cooler to be a spy or a superhero. Maybe they were a little bit of both.
“You would make a pretty awesome spy.”
“I know. No one ever suspects the kid.”
Adrian chuckled. “That and the whole invisibility thing.”
“That goes without saying.”
Adrian started at the sound of footsteps barreling toward them. He stepped closer to the wall, holding out his arm to tuck Max behind him—which probably looked like an odd thing to do—but neither of the men in blue scrubs was paying him any attention.
But when they were twenty steps away, the shorter of the two men stumbled unexpectedly, nearly collapsing on top of a cart stacked with near-empty cafeteria trays and paper cups.
His companion froze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just feel … weird, all of a sudden,” said the doctor, pressing a hand over his chest. “Not like a … heart attack, exactly, but…”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Max whispered. “It’s me. He’s a prodigy. I’m—”
Adrian reached for the air and found Max’s upper arm. He dragged Max forward, though the boy struggled weakly, trying to pull Adrian the other direction, away from the doctors. Adrian held firm. Realizing it