“And then I get my gun back.”
The other nurse was there in the morning, and Lucy resisted the urge to ask where Nora was. The bigger woman did everything brusquely, as if Lucy were a life-size doll whose plasticized limbs could bend in any direction while being dressed.
“Ouch,” she said, as her head was forced through a T-shirt much too small for her. “You’re fine,” the woman said dismissively, though Lucy pulled the ribbed collar away from her neck and looked with dismay at the outlines of her ribs showing through the fabric.
“Um . . . I think this might be for a little kid,” she said.
“Mmmm,” was all the nurse offered in reply.
“What’s your name?”
“Bailey.”
“Hi, Bailey, I’m Lucy,” she said as politely as she could manage.
“Uh-huh.” Bailey finished folding the gown she’d taken off Lucy and moved over to Lynn’s bed. “Your mom wake up yet?”
“I’m awake,” came Lynn’s voice, though her eyes stayed closed. “And if you try to take my clothes off, we’ll have issues straightaway.”
Bailey stood at the foot of Lynn’s bed with her arms crossed over her chest, but Lucy noticed she made no move to touch Lynn. Even with her eyes closed and her voice pitched low, Lynn looked and sounded dangerous.
“You going to be the one to give me trouble then?”
“You an important person around here, Bailey?” Lucy suddenly asked, switching the big woman’s attention back to her.
“’Scuse me?”
“I asked if you were an important person around here. I’m guessing you’re not, since you’re cleaning up the piss of wandering strangers. So Lynn will give as she’s getting, and there will be no kind words for anybody until you bring me someone who matters to talk to.”
Bailey glanced at Lynn, then flushed three shades of red as she backed out the room, arm muscles twitching.
“Well, that was a nice bit of sass. I’ve heard that tone on more than one occasion as I caught you sliding out the window in the middle of the night.”
Lucy stuck her tongue out at Lynn, but her reservations outlasted her sarcasm. “I don’t know how well I can keep it up.”
“It was a solid start, anyway,” Lynn said, tipping her a wink before they heard Bailey’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. Lucy glanced up to see a boy standing in the doorway, his anxious face torn between amusement and interest as he glanced at her.
“Uh, hi,” Lucy said, highly aware of the fact that the shirt she was wearing clung to her in more places than her ribs.
“You’re requesting to speak to someone important?”
“And that’s you?”
He visibly tried to make himself taller. “Kind of. My dad is . . . important.”
“So where’s he?”
“Out. He told me to come and see if you can really do the witching.”
“I can,” Lucy said. “Didn’t know I had to prove it.”
“What’s your name?” Lynn asked.
“Ben,” he answered, without taking his eyes from Lucy.
“Well, Ben, bring my daughter a willow switch and she’ll show you.”
“Willows aren’t easy to come by,” Ben said, his eyes still roaming over Lucy in curiosity.
“Doesn’t have to be a willow,” Lucy said, feeling the challenge in his gaze. “Just bring me something wooden, three blankets, and a bottle of water.”
Ben left, and Lynn’s sigh filled the room. “I don’t think you’re going to put much over him. Nasty little weasel, that one.”
“How old do you think he is?”
“Younger than you, by a bit.”
“He acts older.”
“People act lots of ways.”
Ben was back moments later with a pencil, an IV bag, and three hospital gowns. “This’ll have to do.”
“Good enough,” Lucy said, taking the pencil from him. “Now hide that bag under one of the gowns. I won’t look.”
She buried her head under the pillow, taking comfort in the dark and the memory of Stebbs that the game brought rushing back. Long winters had been spent in the basement while he taught her to hone their shared ability to the point that she didn’t even need a switch to point the way. The hum of water called to her fingers, the vibration of life answering in her veins with a voice few could hear.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Lynn had turned her head, unwilling to see her giving away her grace so easily to strangers. Lucy made a show of deliberation even though she felt the pulse the moment her hand passed over the middle pile, strong and sure.
“That one,” she said, and Ben lifted it to prove her correct. Bailey’s white face floated in the door window like a curious moon.
“You really can,” Ben said, his voice breaking on the last word.
“Yes, I really can,” Lucy said, and forced herself to smile at him.
Twenty-Six