Deviant

Chapter 14

DEVIANT

Callie Hart

Copyright © 2014 Callie Hart

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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places and characters are figments of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. The author recognises the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

SLOANE

"Dr. Romera? Sloane? Hey, Sloane."

I shake my head, kicking my brain back into gear. Mikey, the intern, stands in front of me, wringing his hands. The abject terror all interns experience is a powerful and paralyzing thing, and it still appears to have Mikey firmly in its grip. He blinks at me and I realize he's asked me something.

"What's up, Mikey? Have you killed one of my patients?" I probably shouldn't joke about that—it's a possibility after all. Mike is a weird green color, too, which doesn't exactly assuage my suddenly suspicious mind.

"I—there's a guy at the front desk to see you. He's been waiting for thirty minutes. The nurses said they wouldn't page you if it wasn't an emergency, and he wasn't family. And then Gracie wouldn't page you because he lied to her and said he was your brother."

I snort when I imagine Zeth trying to pass himself off as my brother. "How did she know he was lying?"

Mikey dithers, turning back down the corridor. He wants to get out of here bad. "Mostly because he was black and you aren't."

Black? I put my coffee cup down beside me, my attention suddenly one hundred percent fixed on the nervous kid in front of me. He fidgets, putting me on edge.

"He said if I didn't come back with you in ten minutes, he was going to torch my Jetta, Sloane. D'ya think... Is there any way we could...?" He points a thumb over his shoulder, wincing.

This guy may not actually be Zeth, but if he's threatening to firebomb someone's car, he undoubtedly has something to do with him. I groan and get to my feet—this is going to be awful. Mikey practically runs back to the reception, pausing to look safely over his shoulder in case I might not really be coming. When we arrive, Grace glares at Mikey with a deep disapproval. By coming to fetch me he has gone against her and that's the last thing you ever want to do around here. Grace is lord and overseer of this world. Mikey probably would have been better off kissing goodbye to his car. Sitting on a red fold-down chair in the waiting area, Michael, the doorman from last night, is waiting patiently, his hands folded in his lap.