D.D. couldn’t sit. Neither could Alex. They roamed the lower hallway, feeling as agitated as the kids.
“Negative energy,” Alex told her, hands deep in his front pockets, restlessly jiggling his loose change.
“Fuck you.”
“Just proved my point.”
“Still fuck you.”
“No inner angel?”
“I will strangle you with my bare hands.”
“Again, score one for the shaman. I haven’t felt a vibe this bad since I visited Souza-Baranowski.” The Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center was Massachusetts’s maximum security prison.
“This is what happens at institutions. One person goes crazy, everyone goes crazy.”
“From shared negative energy,” Alex chirped.
“Seriously, I will strangle you.”
“Or we could find a broom closet and have sex.”
D.D. drew up short. Blinked several times. Was genuinely shocked by how instantaneously she wanted to do exactly that. Rip off Alex’s shirt. Dig her fingers into his shoulders. Ride him like a-
Her expression must’ve given her away, because his eyes darkened. “As much as I’d like to take credit for the look on your face, I think it’s score two for the shaman. In the midst of the negative, we are drawn to the positive. Each action calling for an equal level of reaction.”
“Every act of destruction calling for an equal act of creation?”
“Hell yeah. In a broom closet.”
“Deal.”
Or not. The unit doors opened and Danielle Burton strode into the common area. The nurse spotted the blood and stopped short, just as Andrew Lightfoot appeared in the hall.
D.D. motioned to Alex. They drew back quietly and got ready for the show.
“What happened?” Danielle demanded. “Who’s hurt? How bad?”
“Aimee got her hands on a pair of scissors,” Lightfoot provided, walking toward the dark-haired nurse. He came to a halt just a foot away from Danielle, taking a long drink from his water bottle. He studied her intently. She took a noticeable step back.
“Is Aimee okay?” Danielle asked, refusing to meet Lightfoot’s gaze.
“Well enough,” the healer murmured, dropping his water bottle to his side. “The milieu went acute, each child going off like firecrackers. I’d like to say there were many learning opportunities, but I’m not sure. The energy here… it is all wrong. Toxic. I’ve spent hours trying to cleanse the girl’s room. I can’t make headway. I’m too spent for this deep a taint.”
“You were working in Lucy’s room?” Danielle asked sharply.
“At Karen’s request.”
“You didn’t know her.”
“I’ve met her soul on the interplanes. She said to tell you thank you.”
“Stop.” Danielle walked away, setting her bag down on one of the tables. For the first time, she noticed D.D. and Alex, standing at the classroom end of the hallway. “Don’t you have work to do?” Danielle asked them pointedly.
“Doing it,” D.D. replied. She and Alex remained in place.
“How are you feeling, Danielle?” Lightfoot asked.
“Just fine,” she bit out.
“It’s not polite to lie.”
“It’s not polite to pretend you know me better than I do.”
“If you feel that I’m overstepping, then I apologize. It’s never my intention to cause you discomfort.” Lightfoot positioned himself closer to Danielle, sticking one hand in the pocket of his white linen trousers, the other tapping his water bottle against his leg.
Despite his earlier assertion that his interest in Danielle was purely professional, D.D. decided his gaze looked awfully personal. As if he wanted to step closer to the young nurse, savor the scent of her skin.
Danielle, on the other hand, clearly didn’t return the sentiment. She marched over to a set of cabinets, unlocked them, and started to pull out cleaning supplies. She snapped on plastic gloves, then grabbed a disinfectant spray.
“Clean or bounce,” she informed Lightfoot. “Those are the choices.” She turned to D.D. and Alex. “That goes for you two, as well. This is a working psych ward, not an after-dinner show. Earn your keep, or get lost.”
D.D. looked at Alex. He shrugged his agreement, so they crossed the common area and helped themselves to cleaning supplies. A small price to pay.
Apparently, Andrew thought the same. He got his hands on a roll of paper towels. “Your father needs to talk to you-” he started, his attention back on Danielle.
“Not interested.”
“Hatred is a negative energy, Danielle. Denying him only hurts yourself.”
“Stop it. We’ve already had this conversation. Your mumbo jumbo is your business. I’m not going there. For God’s sake, didn’t you do enough damage with Ozzie?”
Lightfoot frowned. D.D. perked up.
“Ozzie made remarkable progress,” the healer told Danielle. “His entire family was on the path to becoming more centered and loving-”
“His entire family is dead.”
“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure it wasn’t Ozzie’s fault.”
“You’re sure? How? Ozzie’s soul tell you that on the interplanes?”
Good question, D.D. thought.
“Unfortunately,” Lightfoot said, “while souls enter this plane to experience the corporal world, once they leave they show little interest in the physical realities encountered here. Ozzie’s soul is not fixated on corporal death. Instead, he’s moved on to the next set of desired experiences. Which is how it should be.”
“Really?” Danielle mocked, starting to scrub the nearest table. “So Ozzie, a young boy who was brutally murdered, has already moved on, but my father, twenty-five years later, still wants to chat.”
Lightfoot shrugged. “Your father’s soul has unfinished business. The lesson has not been learned. The experience isn’t completed.”
“And Lucy?”
“I dreamt of her last night,” Lightfoot said. “She was dancing among the moonbeams of my mind. I knew immediately she was someone special, a being of incredible light and love. She told me she loves you. And she asked me to help you. She worries about you, senses the sadness in your heart.”
“Yeah? Did she tell you who killed her, too? Or is that too mundane a topic for your higher mind?”
D.D. looked expectantly at Lightfoot. Another excellent question.
“Death is merely a transition,” Lightfoot started, and across the table from D.D., Danielle rolled her eyes. D.D. found herself liking the nurse more than she should.
Lightfoot remained steadfast. “The unit is acute. You must find your forgiveness, Danielle. You must open your heart to love. Let go of your past. If you don’t, the dark forces will win.”
“And now a message from our sponsor,” Danielle said. “Hello, One-Nine-Hundred Rent A Soul? My boyfriend has a thing for asps, so for next Friday night, can I borrow Cleopatra?”
“I’m not joking,” Andrew said stiffly.
“Neither am I.”
“He has unbelievable power, Danielle.”
“Who?”
“You tell me.”
Lightfoot stared at the nurse. The nurse stared back at him. Slowly but surely, Danielle set down her cleaning supplies.
“You want to help someone, Andrew, pick a room, any room. The kids need you. I don’t.”
“It’s bad and it’s going to get worse.”
“Then go work a little voodoo. In your own words, life is about choice, and I don’t choose you.”
Lightfoot thinned his lips. His eyes flashed darkly. Slowly but surely, he turned and stalked down the hall. Upon reaching Lucy’s room, he glanced over his shoulder one last time at Danielle. Then he disappeared inside.
D.D. released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“I take it you don’t care for woo-woo,” D.D. said.
“No, I don’t.” The nurse gathered her cleaning supplies. “Unfortunately, Andrew’s not wrong about everything.” She started scrubbing a bloody wall. “Man, this place is fucked up.”