Page 63 of Bone Year

I almost feel bad for him. Miles is a little pudgy, but gods, Malric is a dick. I’m really beginning to think it’s a vampire thing. Are they all this intolerable? Poor Miles doesn’t say anything, lowers his head, and takes off up the stairs to the eighth floor.

I’m internally cringing, waiting to see what horrible task Malric assigns me, when he hands me and Draven each a piece of parchment. I look down to read it.

“Nella Thorne. Room 503. Cael Brannock. Room 709.”

Floors five and seven, so I have someone with a fissure injury and someone in long-term care.

“What is this?” I ask, looking up at Malric.

“You two are each assigned two patients. It’s your job to take care of them.” He crosses his arms. “Head to the floor they’re on, and check in at the desk with the mender. They’ll get you set up with bracelets and whatever else you need.”

I glance over at Draven, who folds the parchment and slips it into his pocket. He hasn’t said a godsdamn thing this entire time. He nods to Malric and starts walking down the hall. Stoic asshole.

“His first patient is on this floor, but since we’re both heading up, let’s take the lift. I’ll help you get settled.” Malric steps closer to me, and I fake a smile.

“Sounds delightful.”

I follow him to the lift, and we both step onto the stone platform. He places his palm on the panel, and a door slides closed, leaving us alone in the tight space. The lift jerks into motion, and I stumble. Malric grabs my arm and presses into me before I can catch myself.

“Careful, Red.” His grip tightens, and he leans closer, his breath hot against my hair. “It’s a shame your little trash-eating pest interrupted us before. I really do want to taste you.”

He sniffs the top of my head, and my stomach turns. I wrench my arm free and step back, pressing myself against the railing. “You’re vile.”

He chuckles, like my disgust entertains him. The doors slide open, and I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life. It’s safe to say he remembers that night then. I was hoping he was drunk enough to have forgotten, but that was wishful thinking.

“I’ll check in on you later.” He leans against the wall of the lift, making no move to follow me out. “Don’t kill any of your patients today. Or do. Then I’ll get to punish you.”

I shake my head and step into the waiting area of the fifth floor. The doors close behind me, and the lift continues upward, taking him with it.

Thank gods.

I see a man with spiky blond hair and a bunch of charts in his hands standing behind the desk. He’s dressed in the black ward robes with a medical belt of supplies around his waist, so this must be the mender for this floor. I walk toward him and clear my throat.

“Hi, I’m Maelis, a bone year checking in. I’m supposed to take care of Nella in room 503.”

He drops the stack of charts onto the desk and pulls a bracelet off his wrist. “I’m Theo. This is for you to keep track of Nella. You’ll need to pick it up and drop it off with me directly, or with whatever mender is scheduled to this floor. Understand?”

He has amber eyes, a grouchy attitude, and a scar that cuts through his left eyebrow. Must be a vampire. I’m getting pretty damn good at identifying them these days.

“I understand, but I don’t know what the bracelet’s for. No one explained it. I was just told to check in with you.”

He motions for my hand, and I hold it out as he slides the bracelet on. It’s a stretchy, twisted fabric thing with a small metal plate on the top. I hold it closer and read the name etched into the plate. “Nella Thorne.”

“If the bracelet lights up, that means Nella needs something. If it vibrates, it’s an emergency, and you need to respond quickly.” He’s already rifling through a drawer, barely looking at me.

I have several more questions, but he doesn’t look like he wants to chat. “What controls the bracelet? How does it know to vibrate or light up?” It must be nice having current. Our clinic at home certainly could benefit from some magic.

“If the patient needs something, they push the button in their room, then it lights up. If there’s an emergency, the academy is always watching. The current will know and vibrate.” He pulls something from the drawer and turns back to me. “That’s how the headmaster has it set up. You don’t like it, take it up with him.”

He practically throws a wide leather belt at me, stuffed full of supplies.

“I don’t have a problem. I just wanted to know how it worked,” I say, catching the belt before it hits my chest.

He hums, uninterested. “Put that on. Keep it and bring it with you for every shift. Keep it stocked too, and make sure you sanitize anything you use.”

Then he turns and walks off, leaving me fumbling to get the belt on by myself.

I manage to buckle it around my waist and take stock of what’s inside. Folded pieces of clean cloth in varying sizes. Clips for wrapping bandages. A bottle of sanitizing liquid. Forceps. A scalpel that makes my stomach clench. My fingers itch to shove it deeper into the belt where I can’t see it.