I rubbed my eyebrow, feeling a headache coming on. "Ley lines," I said. "There was a mix-up at the registrar's office. Marshal is trying to work it out."

"That's not all he's trying to work out," Jenks muttered, and I scowled at him when he shifted to the mums. The scent of a summer meadow grew heavy, and pollen streaked his green shirt. "He's going to want to change things," the pixy said, and Glenn leaned back, mouth shut, to listen. "You being in the hospital is going to jerk him into rescue mode. Just like on that boat of his. I saw it in him right after he yanked Tom out from under our kitchen. I'm a pixy, Rachel. I may look all tough and stuff, but I got wings, and I know infatuation when I see it."

I sighed, not surprised he was warning me off Marshal. And what do wings have to do with it? "Well, he's not helpless," I said defensively. "Tagging a ley line witch is hard."

Jenks crossed his arms and frowned. Ivy put the giraffe down and eyed me, too.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I muttered, but my thoughts went zinging to Mia standing in the dark with her wailing child clutched to her, telling me that I'd never love anyone without killing them. "He deserves someone better than me. I know the drill."

Ivy moved uneasily, and shoving my unhappy feeling away, I turned to Glenn. The detective was very adept at reading people, and this was embarrassing. "So, how's the pudding?" I asked, reaching out and tossing the tomato to him.

Humans normally abhor tomatoes, seeing as it was a tomato that killed a good slice of their population a mere forty years ago. Glenn, however, had been shown the joys of the red fruit at fang point, and was now hooked. After his first panicked juggling to keep the tomato from hitting the ground, he cradled the fruit like a baby, in the crook of his arm.

"The pudding is nasty," he said, glad for the shift in conversation. "It's sugar free. And thank you. I don't get many of these."

"Inderland tradition," I said, wondering if I'd missed breakfast and would have to wait another six hours. I had yet to see a menu, but they'd still feed me.

Ivy sat on the foot of the bed, more comfortable now that there was one less person in here. "Flowers from Trent?" she said, her eyebrows high as she handed me the card.

Surprised, I looked at the daisies as I took it. "Ceri sent them," I said when I saw her absolutely tiny handwriting. "Trent probably doesn't even know she put his name on the card."

Jenks landed on my knee. "I bet he does," he said with a guffaw, and then we all looked up at the smart knock on the door and the woman in street clothes walking in. She had a stethoscope, and I knew she was my doctor before she opened her mouth.

She stopped short, as if surprised by the number of people, then recovered. "Ms. Morgan," she said as she came forward briskly. "I'm Dr. Mape. How are you feeling today?"

It was always the same question, and I smiled neutrally. I could tell by the lack of a redwood smell that even the most stringent antiseptics couldn't cover that she wasn't a witch. It was unusual that they'd let a human treat a witch with human medicine, but if I'd been hit with the same thing as Glenn, I probably had his doctor. The thought seemed about right when Glenn shrank back in his chair with a guilty expression. The tomato, too, was in hiding somewhere. I didn't want to know where. I truly didn't.

"I'm feeling much better," I said blandly. "What did they use to knock me out?"

Dr. Mape pulled the blood pressure cuff off the wall, and I obediently stuck my arm out. "I don't know off the top of my head," she said in a preoccupied voice as she squished my arm with air pressure. "I can look at your chart."

I stared at the clock and tried to keep my pulse slow. "Don't bother." I knew amulets, not drugs. "Hey, can I get a work excuse?"

She didn't answer, and Glenn jumped when she ripped the cuff from me. "Mr. Glenn," she said pointedly, and I swear he held his breath. "You shouldn't be walking this far yet."

"Yes, ma'am," he said grumpily, and I hid a grin.

"Do I need to put a restriction on you?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No, ma'am."

"Wait for me outside," the woman said severely. "I'll walk you back."

Ivy stirred from her corner. Cripes, I hadn't even seen her move there. "I'll help him to his room," she offered, and the woman's quick refusal died when she saw who it was.

"You're Ivy Tamwood?" she asked, then wrote my blood pressure on my chart. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that. His aura isn't thick enough to be mingling."

Jenks rose up from the flowers, this time covered in pollen. "Aw, we're all his friends," the pixy said, shaking in midair to create a dust cloud.

Dr. Mape started. "What are you doing out of hibernation?" she asked, shocked.

I cleared my throat dryly. "He, uh, lives in my desk," I offered, then shut my mouth when Dr. Mapes stuck a thermometer in it.

"I bet that's fun," the woman murmured as the instrument worked.

I shifted the probe to the other side of my mouth. "It's his kids who drive me nuts," I mumbled, and the thermometer beeped.

Again Dr. Mape made a note in my chart, then bent to look under the bed. "Your kidneys look fine," she said. "I'm going to leave the IV in, but I'll take the catheter out now."

Glenn stiffened. "Uh, Rachel," the man said uncomfortably. "I'll see you around, okay? Give me a day before we go racing down the halls."

Ivy got behind him, holding his gown shut as he reached for his IV and used it to haul himself up. "Jenks?" she said as they shuffled into motion. "Get your pixy ass in the hall."

He gave me a lopsided grin, then buzzed out, making circles around Ivy and Glenn. The door eased shut, and his voice faded.

I started to scrunch down to make this as easy as possible, then stopped when Dr. Mape pulled Glenn's chair back and sat, silently eyeing me. Suddenly I felt like a bug on a pin. She wasn't saying anything, and finally I offered a hesitant "You're going to take it out, right?"

The woman sighed and eased into a more comfortable position. "I wanted to talk to you, and this was the easiest way to get them to leave."

I didn't like the sound of that, and a ribbon of fear pulled through me, leaving prickles of unease. "I spent the first fifteen years of my life in hospitals, Dr. Mape," I said boldly as I sat up. "I've been told I'm going to die more often than I have pairs of boots, and I have a lot of boots. There's nothing you can say that's going to throw me." It was a lie, but it sounded good.

"You survived the Rosewood syndrome," she said, flipping back in my chart. I stiffened when she reached for my wrist, turning it over and looking at the demon mark. "Maybe that's why the banshee child didn't kill you."

Is she talking about my blood disease or my demon mark? Uneasy, I pulled my arm out of her grip. Either way, I was different, and not in a good way. "You think my aura tastes bad?"

Dr. Mape was looking at my hands, and I wanted to hide them. "I wouldn't know," she said. "From what I've been told, auras don't have a taste. I do know a banshee child will take long past when she's sated, and that's more than enough to kill a person. You and Mr. Glenn are very lucky to be alive. Ms. Harbor keeps her child well fed."

Well fed, my ass. She almost killed me.

Leaning back, Dr. Mape looked out my window and to the other wing. "She should be commended for raising a child to the age of reason, not hunted down like an animal when an accident occurs. Did you know that until a banshee reaches about the age of five, anyone who touches her aside from her mother is considered a food source? Even her own human father."

"Is that so," I said, thinking Remus had held her without a slip of his aura being taken, when everyone around was being slowly siphoned. "Forgive me if I'm not all flowers and hearts over her predicament. That woman handed Holly to me, knowing she would kill me. That child very nearly killed Glenn. Mia herself has killed people, they just haven't tied them to her yet. I'm all for staying alive, but I don't kill people to do it."