The door to the nurse’s office sits on the other side of the lobby. I knock, and a voice like chimes rings out from within.

  “Door’s open!” it calls.

  When I enter, the room is dim, lit only by the window light and a crystalline monitor. A plump woman with box blonde hair and bubblegum-colored lips taps rapidly at the keyboard. Her pink knit sweater hangs loose, though her navy dress does not. In the back, a worn-out pair of leather shoes dangles uncomfortably off one of the medical beds.

  “Well, hey there, Miss New Face,” the woman says in the thickest Texas drawl when she finally notices me. “Since I’ve never seen you here, you must be Natascha Griggs. I’m guessing you’re here for registration. My name’s Nurse Coz—I’m the assistant nurse here. Hop on that bed there while I pull up your file.”

  She stands and flicks on the lights, flitting around the room like she’s running on sugar and sunshine. My eyes blink against the sudden, fluorescent glare.

  A man groans from the other side of the room. “Mireille, what is going on?”

  “The new student is here, Volpez. Now get off your laziness and introduce yourself.”

  I perch on the bed she mentioned as footsteps thump closer until they stop right beside me. A shabby-looking man in a wrinkled doctor’s coat—splotched with stains I can’t identify—steps into view.

  “Y’know, you shouldn’t talk to your boss like that. I could fire you,” he says through a yawn.

  “Yes, because you’ve got applicants lining up out the door to work with a bunch of horned-up, volatile children, in the middle of nowhere, for no dental.”

  “Hmmph,” he mutters.

  He looks down at me, and I gasp. His eyes are a fluorescent green, practically glowing.

  “I’m Dr. Volpez. I handle the serious stuff around here. Breaks, fractures, comas—stuff like that. So, unless you’ve got any of those, Nurse Coz will take care of it.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  He turns back to the nurse, who has a tray of glass tubes and supplies ready.

  “That good enough?” He says.

  “It’ll do. I’ll turn the lights back off when I’m finished.”

  He walks away, flashing a peace sign without looking, and flops back onto his sleeping bed.

  Nurse Coz gently grabs my arm. It doesn’t take her long to find a vein. My nerves are still acting up; I feel my arm tingle. I shut my eyes tight, bracing for the sting of the needle.

  After a few awkward moments, I still don’t feel anything. When I glance down, she’s already filling a tube.

  “When did you stick me?” I ask, blinking. “I didn’t even feel it.”

  “You looked nervous, so I numbed you up to make it easier,” she says with a smile.

  “How?”

  Her eyes sparkle. “I’m a Hematurge. I can use your blood to make you feel whatever I want you to feel. So if I want a spot on your arm to feel numb so you don’t feel me sticking you, I will.”

  She rotates out the vial, popping in a new one. We’re nearly halfway done now.

  “What’s up with his eyes?” I ask

  “Huh? Oh yeah, spooky at first, isn’t it? He’s a Flay. Got super x-ray vision. One of the most acute forms, too. I'm so lucky I get to work under him. Used to be a big fancy doctor at a top-tier hospital in New York.”

  “Coz!” Dr. Volpez shouts. “I would appreciate it if my private life remained so!”

  “Whatever you say, Doctor,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  The rest of the procedure is quiet. The only sounds came from the soft pop of the test tubes being removed and inserted. But there was a softer sound, low and constant, tingling just at the back of my head. When I tried to focus on it the sound would shift, like a boxer bobbing and weaving. I decided to leave it alone since it showed no interest in being captured.

  It felt familiar, but far away—like a voice echoing through a void.

  After the vials are filled, Nurse Coz measures my height and weight.

  “Alright, sweetheart. The last thing we need is a urine sample,” she says, holding out a plastic cup.

  “Is all this necessary?” I ask, taking it.

  “You don’t have the luxury of running to the doctor whenever you get a tummy ache. And you’d be hard pressed to find someone willing to treat you outside these walls. So if we’re your medical team now, we need a baseline.”

  Her hips sway as she heads back to her desk, fingers tapping the keyboard.

  “Leave the cup on the silver tray once you’re done.”

  I place the filled cup on the tray. When I turn on the sink to wash my hands, I see something in the mirror that freezes me.

  The girl staring back at me is barely recognizable. Her skin is gray and dull, with only faint remnants of the lively walnut tone it used to hold. Her lips are chapped and peeling. Large knots cling to her dried, matted hair. And her eyes—dark, sunken, soulless—look straight through me.

  That face is begging me to help it. But how could I?

  I’ve lost everything. I’m nothing more than a killer—a mage who plays with death itself.

  I can’t bear to look at that stranger any longer. I wash my hands and hurry out, hoping to leave the ghoul behind the glass.