Fang Hospital (Dr. Gabriella Van Court, Book 1)
Read Fang Hospital (Dr. Gabriella Van Court, Book 1) Online
Authors: Tanya Goodwin
Fang Hospital
By
Tanya Goodwin
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2013 by Tanya Goodwin
Cover design by Rae Monet, Inc.
Edited by Beth Bruno
Chapter One
Gabriella Van Court fished out the antique key from her backpack. Morning approached and she quickly unlocked the door to her sanctuary, a secluded hilltop Dutch colonial; it was the perfect abode for an 850-year-old vampire to keep her life, or rather undeath, a secret. She tossed her key into a jade bowl, a gift from Genghis Khan. Her graveyard shift as an emergency room doctor at Fang Hospital, also known as the Harry S. Fang Memorial Hospital, was running smoother than she had anticipated. She worked side-by-side with her colleague, Max Cade, the hottest mortal she’d ever let live, and with a fellow vampire working in the hospital laboratory, she had all the blood she needed to sustain her. Plus, she could use her supernatural gift of healing to give back to mortals instead of taking from them.
Others of her kind had found her, and had, on occasion, frequented Fang Hospital, seeking treatment for whatever ailed vampires. But Gabriella always got to them first, fixed them up, and quickly ushered them away before their “status” was revealed, and hence hers, too. She’d have to work diligently to keep that up. The last thing she wanted was to be outed. Word would spread from vampire clan to vampire clan, ultimately revealing her secret existence to the European Contingent, and to Volk, head of the union, and her progenitor. She had escaped her evil master, and he’d been obsessed with capturing her ever since.
Gabriella shuddered. She shoved Volk from her mind and replaced him with thoughts of Max. Dr. Maxwell Cade lurked at her heels every chance he got. Not that she minded. She didn’t need to hypnotize him. He followed her willingly, glued to her green eyes with flecks of gold, his deep brown eyes ironically as compelling to her. The warmth radiating from his solid specimen of a body teased her deliciously. Accustomed to dating dark, straight, haired and pale vampire men for centuries, Max, with his wavy, chestnut hair and ruddy complexion, wasn’t her usual type. He was the first mortal she fantasized about. But other than feeding off mortal men, relationships with them were strictly vampire verboten. Well, heck! She’d already broken two rules: ditching her progenitor and healing humans instead of killing them. Gabriella’s heart skipped over its regimented beat. What she wouldn’t give to bite into those juicy neck veins of his! But she’d restrained the urge night after night. She loved her job, and she certainly didn’t want to jeopardize it by killing off a colleague, or worst yet turning him. A feral vampire working in the emergency room would be disastrous.
Gabriella’s stomach growled. She put her thoughts of Max on hold and headed to her refrigerator. The lab had been extra busy last night, so she had skipped her break time cup of O negative, settling for a bowl of tomato soup instead. She discovered that human liquids were tolerable. They ran straight through her. Solids were a whole different matter. Now that she was mixing in with mortals, Gabriella learned that the hard way. The spaghetti she had once enjoyed ended up splattered on her walls. She had to repaint after that unfortunate incident. Not having to hunt for her meals definitely had its drawbacks. But Gabriella had adjusted to this new world, and so far, this was the best time she’d had in centuries.
Reaching into the fridge, Gabriella grabbed a pint of blood and squeezed it into a glass. She snapped a celery stick in half and plunked it into her drink. Not that she was going to eat it, but she liked the decoration. It was her idea of a Bloody Mary, minus Mary, of course. The cocktail oozed down her throat like velvet. Gabriella licked the celery stick dry, and then tossed it out the window for some animal to nibble. She had no trash. A vampire perk.
She smacked her lips, savoring the last tinny drops, and rinsed her glass before retiring to her bedroom. Gabriella pulled her black window shades down. Black shades were hellish to find. She’d ordered them on line. They were perfect, completely impervious to sunlight. She gave the shades a five-star review, just in case there was another vamp searching for the same. She donned her pink nightie, and wriggled between her black satin bed sheets, not a difficult item to find. She’d given up sleeping in her coffin. It was so stereotypic. She slept just as soundly in her four-poster bed. Gabriella bought the bed during a midnight madness sale. Why mortals called these things “midnight madness,” she had no clue. Midnight madness in vampire lingo meant something completely different.
Although the coffin had to go, no way was Gabriella going to get rid of it. She’d disguised it as a planter on her porch, in case anyone came a calling, especially Max. She didn’t want to explain the whole coffin thing. Cascades of ivy camouflaged the casket, and rows of peonies and snapdragons filled the lining. She’d actually crafted that after a group of girl scouts selling cookies had invaded her secluded home. They nervously eyed the coffin while taking her order and then, realizing what it was, ran down the hill screaming. Mistakenly, she had opened the door a smidge too wide. In a flash, she redecorated the coffin before their troop leader returned to assess the validity of the rumor. Finding no such thing, the leader shook her head and waggled her finger at her charges. Two weeks later, a dozen boxes of cookies lay stacked next to “the planter.” Unable to consume them, she gave the cookies to Max.
Gabriella yawned. It’d been a hectic night in the ER. She had just crossed her hands over her chest, out of habit, and closed her eyes, when her ears perked. She shot her eyes open and grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand. Her hearing was supersonic, so Gabriella knew it was Max before her cell chirped.
Gabriella held the phone to her ear and waited five seconds. Five seconds in vampire time was more like five days. She tapped her two-inch fingernails onto the back of her cell. Damn! She’d just trimmed them, in fact, twice, once before her shift, and once during. The suckers grew like wild fire. Gabriella sighed.
Come on, Max. I hear your voice streaming straight at me.
Finally the cell rang.
It’s about time!
“Hi, Max. What’s up?”
Besides him, she mused! He hadn’t spoken a word yet, but she could sense his excitement. She’d have to act on that soon. She needed it. She needed him.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Caller ID. I have you in my cell phone contacts,” she lied. She had no use for contacts, much less a cell. But she carried it around to mix in with the mortals.
“Sorry to call you so late...or so early. I wanted to get with you before you left. God, I didn’t even see you leave.”
God aside, she wanted to get with him, too! Badly! Her fangs began to grow.
“Listen,” he continued.
She was all ears.
“I see that we both have tonight off—a breather before Halloween night tomorrow, when the crazies all come out.”
Gabriella hissed.
Is he calling “my kind” crazy?
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Gabriella grimaced. She was being overly sensitive. He didn’t mean it that way. Emergency rooms were infamously crazy on Halloween. But he didn’t understand that Halloween was the happiest holiday for vamps.
“Hmm. Nothing. We must have a bad connection,” he said. “Anyway, I’d like to take you to dinner. And then we could just hang out. You know, kind of see what happens next.”
Dinner? He’d be very tasty. She knew definitely what would come next. Gabriella licked her lips. It was so great of him to offer himself up like that!
“Sure. That would be fun.”
“Fabulous! I’ll pick you up at six.”
It was fall, and yes, it was fairly dark by 6 p.m., but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Besides, she adored the moonlight, and the moon wouldn’t spin its magic until later.
“Uh, how about more like eight?” she asked.
“Okay. No problem. I should’ve remembered that you’re a late night eater.”
Gabriella grinned. “See you then, Max.”
“I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight, Gabriella.”
“Later.”
Gabriella ended the call.
Yes, definitely later.
She snapped on her eyeshades. Being 850 years old, she needed the rest. If Max only knew of her strict “supper after sundown rule”, she mused. But he’d soon find out.
Chapter Two
Gabriella stretched beneath her satin covers and flicked off her eyeshades. An undead’s day sleep could certainly make her feel alive again. Her brain sped to vampire mode. She darted her eyes to her cell. Crap! She’d overslept. She hadn’t set her cell phone alarm. She’d blame it on human error but she wasn’t mortal. It was 7:55 p.m. and Max was due at her door stoop in five minutes. Gabriella had planned on arising a half an hour earlier. That way she could scarf down a quickie and get away with ordering a consommé for dinner, then coffee for dessert. She’d save Max as a nightcap!
Gabriella sprang to her closet and sped through her choices. Eight centuries of women’s apparel flashed past her like an old-time movie reel wound too tightly, each potential choice given a millisecond preview.
Deep purple Victorian bodice with lace overlay? – nice, but, no. Bone breaking corsette? – no, but maybe another time. Kimono? – nope. Southern belle hoop skirt? – no, prefer to forget that whole era. Ah, stop! Ooh, Stella McCartney black satin shift dress.
Gabriella pumped her fist at the top-notch contemporary pick. And she knew just the shoes to match the cocktail dress -her Jimmy Choo black strappy sandals-autographed on the bottom by him after she nipped his neck. Gabriella grinned. That was the best fashion show ever! Transfixed, Jimmy followed her around the whole night.
She zipped the little black dress on and flew into her Choo’s. All she needed was the perfect accessory. Gabriella tugged her “hair drawer” open. There it was, Catherine the Great’s birthday gift to her. She slid the ruby and diamond encrusted comb into the side of her black hair. She had lied to the Russian Queen, announcing it was her 28
th
birthday. Well, it was her 28
th
, she just hadn’t included the 7 before the 28. But she was perpetually youthful, having been turned, coincidentally, at age 28. No one had been the wiser, except for the vampire clan she’d been running from.
Gabriella had hid in Asia and Europe, escaping the advances of Volk. She had no desire to entwine with him, much less become his queen. But he vowed that no country or continent would keep him away. She felt safer in the new world, among the nouveau riche vampires. The European Contingent disowned them, never dreaming to mix with such traitors, such watered down vampires. The Europeans had sneered at Gabriella’s compulsion to mix with mortals. They’d finish her off if they knew she was helping humans instead of feeding off of them, turning a few to keep the clan’s numbers competitive with other clans. At first she settled in Salem, Massachusetts, having been befriended by a coven. But after watching with horror as one after the other of her witch friends were drowned, hung, or burned, Gabriella fled to Dedham, and became that which she had always dreamed of becoming, a physician.
Screw Volk! She had a coveted career, and she had Maxwell Cade!
Gabriella had one more thing to do before Max arrived. She whisked into the bathroom, a completely useless place for a vampire, and reached for the self-tanner. She camouflaged her pallor with a “tan in a can.” She’d just finished spraying on the final coat of bronzer and clipped her fingernails, when the doorbell rang. Gabriella grabbed her Kate Spade clutch, and tossed the nail clipper into it. They’d grow back to a razor point in four hours. As a vampire in a mortal world, she had to be prepared for every contingency.
Gabriella opened the door and leaned against the wood frame. She pulled his gaze directly into her eyes. “I love a man who doesn’t make me wait.”
Max leaned into her magnetic trance. “Looks like I’m your man.”
If he only knew! She stroked her fingers along his cheek and down his neck. He wore a crisp, button-down white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone. Perfect exposure. Thankfully he didn’t wear a tie. She hated to work harder than she had to.
“Wow! You look absolutely beautiful. You must have been out in the sun today.”
Gabriella softly hissed. Perish the thought!
Max squinted. “Are you okay?”
She waved her fingers. Her nails had already sprouted an eighth of an inch. “Yes, fine. I just sneezed. It must be all that pollen.” She came up with that fib in a flash. It worked. She blinked, releasing her hold on him. Gabriella pointed to Max’s car. “Shall we go?”
“We shall.” Max swung his palm in the direction of his car parked in her empty driveway. “My chariot awaits.”
His sporty Cadillac sedan was her favorite color, black. Even with the car doors closed, she could smell the leather.
“Nice ride.”
She’d ridden on ships and on horseback, in rickshaws, carriages, model T’s, and a Thunderbird, but this lux sedan came with something extra, the hottest man she’d encountered in centuries. Blackbeard was a distant second.
Max beamed. “Thanks.”
Gabriella locked her front door, and let Max escort her to his car. She’d make him think he was in charge. Ego was something mortal and vampire men shared. She’d successfully manipulated both, except Volk. He was the master, and she was the supplicant. Gabriella refused to agree to his demands. But if he found her, she may have no choice.
“Where’s your car?” Max asked.
“It’s in the garage.”
She was vampire quick with her lie. Gabriella had no car. Easily moving at near the speed of light, she didn’t need one. After her shift, she simply stepped into a deserted alley and arrived at her house seconds later, completely undetected, by mortals, that is. She’d pass by a vampire every now and then; he or she would be racing like her to get home before sunrise. They’d wave to each other as they whizzed past one another. New World vamps were refreshingly congenial. But outside of helping the occasional one in at Fang E.R., Gabriella didn’t socialize with them; by her own choice. She couldn’t risk one blabbing that she was living in Dedham.
Max pulled out of her drive. “So, what do you drive?”
Gabriella paused. She’d have to come up with something more recent than a Thunderbird. “Uh, a Volkswagon Jetta.” Oh, shit. She’d invoked his name. Well, not really. She did say, “Volkswagon.”
That was not his name.
“Sweet.” Max glanced at her. “I’d not seen you leave the physician parking lot.” He grinned. “You must really fly out of there, desperate to get home.”
Desperately needing to get home was more the issue.
“I thought we’d drive into Boston and have clam chowder. That is, if you like clam chowder.” Max tapped the steering wheel and smiled at Gabriella. “Or we can go elsewhere.”
Gabriella politely shook her hands. Thankfully her fingernails hadn’t grown out further. “No, clam chowder is fine.”
She hadn’t eaten clams since she had died. She used to love them. Gabriella decided she’d shove them aside. Tonight would be the wrong night to experiment with clams. That would be a worse mess than spaghetti to clean up, and the smell...well, she didn’t want to even think about that. Recycled clams would hardly constitute an aphrodisiac, and Gabriella would have to double hypnotize Max to keep him from tossing up his own clams.
Max pulled into the Boston Harbor Garage. Gabriella lolled her head in ecstasy. The distant sea salt spray of the Atlantic Ocean wafted into her razor sense of vampire smell. She licked her lips. She could taste the clams. Memories of the Cote d’Azure swelled inside her. Gabriella had grown up in a small village on the southern coast of France. She and her Uncle Claude would tug in their net full of clams every Monday. She remembered that day of the week because it was that fateful Monday when Volk happened upon them. Their catch of clams lay strewn upon the beach. Gabriella and Uncle Claude hadn’t returned home that day.
Max pointed at her. “You stay right there.”
He jumped out of the car, rounded the back of it, and headed toward the passenger side, a huge grin on his face. Gabriella cross-linked her fingers and stretched her arms with glee. She had him, but she’d be patient. They had all night.
Max opened her door and held out his hand. His pulse bounded before her eyes. Gabriella pressed her lips tight, restraining her fangs from sinking into his wrist. She grasped his hand. His pulse was way past his low, steady marathon runner rhythm. Max’s heart was hammering at 110 beats per minute. He was as excited as she was. Gabriella’s pupils sprang vampire-wide. The visual magnification came in handy, especially when trolling for prey at a distance. But Max was right in front of her. His juicy carotid popped out like a nautical rope swirling down his neck, so apropos as they were at the waterfront. The tips of her fangs poked past her bottom lip. She sucked them back into her mouth before Max could notice.
“Dinner awaits,” he said.
Gabriella arched her brows. “Yes, he does.” She did a double take with her head at her faux pas. “I mean, yes, it does.”
Max was so deep into her vivid green eyes that he hadn’t noticed the slip. He helped her out of the car and shut the door. It was a good thing he had done it instead of her. Not always able to gauge her strength, Gabriella could’ve snapped the car door right off of its hinges, ruining a perfect Cadillac sedan. How would he explain that to the dealer?
They walked hand-in-hand to the restaurant. She counted his pulse with every pace.
“Your hand is ice,” Max said.
He rubbed it. How cute, she thought. Max had no idea his chivalry to warm her was useless.
“My hands are forever cold. It runs in my family.”
Max kissed her hand. She almost bit him, right then.
“You know what they say, ‘Cold hands, warm heart’.”
There wasn’t a warm spot on her undead body, but she’d keep that to herself, for now. She was genuinely attracted to Max, not only for prey. Could she trust him with her secret? Possibly. But not tonight.
The hostess sat them at a table with a view of the harbor. The waitress, behind her, handed them menus. Gabriella returned her menu and waved her hand.
“No need. I’ll have your famous, ‘best in Boston’, clam chowder.”
The waitress zoomed her eyes onto Gabriella’s fingernails. They had mushroomed to talon length. Gabriella shot her nails into her palms. She pushed back her chair and tucked her clutch to her side.
“I’ll be right back, Max. I need to go to the ladies room. Go ahead and order some wine.”
Panicked, Gabriella forced herself into slow motion. It felt as if she was moving in reverse. But warp speed to the bathroom might freak Max out and ruin her plans for the evening. Once safely inside the ladies room, she yanked the nail clipper from her clutch. Snap after snap, the tips darted into the trash receptacle. And just in time. Seconds later, a woman entered. She fluffed her hair while gazing into the mirror, and applied a coat of shell pink lipstick. The woman hadn’t noticed that Gabriella, who was standing behind her, cast no reflection.
She looks so innocent
, Gabriella mused. She was starved, having missed her snack before Max arrived. Hmm? Maybe it wasn’t so wrong. She’d hypnotize the young woman, lead her into a stall, and then after a quick jab to the neck, she’d be done with her. The woman would know no different. She’d simply have two puncture wounds that she’d notice tomorrow morning. Luckily her victim was wearing a scarf. Gabriella nodded. It was a sign. She tapped the woman on the shoulder. The minute the woman turned around, her eyes locked with Gabriella’s.
“Good,” Gabriella said, softly. “Come with me.”
The woman followed her into a stall. Gabriella shut the door and bolted it. Her young quarry tilted her head back and sacrificed her neck. Gabriella bit into it. Her eyes rolled back as she sucked. She let the woman lose and adjusted her scarf to cover her indiscretion and then unlocked the stall.
“Go now. Enjoy your evening.”
The woman quivered out from Gabriella’s trance and left the ladies room, her hair coiffed, and her lipstick perfect.
****
Max tapped his finger on the table. He’d ordered them each a glass of Riesling. The waitress hadn’t lost any of her wide-eyed look. After Gabriella excused herself, their waitress stood dumbstruck while clutching their menus. Max had to clear his throat to snag her back to attention.
“Miss? Are you all right?” he asked.
The waitress shook her head repeatedly. “No,” she muttered.
She dropped the menus, which tipped over the votive candle on the table. The tablecloth shot up in flames. Max pushed back his chair, jumped up, and doused his napkin with water from a glass on the next table. He tossed it onto the fire, snuffing out the flames. “It’s okay, everyone,” he said.
The manager, his face beet red, stomped towards the waitress and yelled, “You’re fired! Get out!
She ran off in a fluster, smacking into corners of tables. Water glasses teetered and silverware clattered to the floor. Before bolting out the restaurant door, she collided with a waiter who was balancing someone’s dinner on a tray over his shoulder. The entrees flew airborne and crashed onto an unintended table.
Patrons buzzed about the wacky waitress. They turned their heads, shrugged their shoulders, and raised their palms in bewilderment.
“Unbelievable!”
“What a nut job!”
“So much for a reference,” one joked.
The manager shouted after her, “This is coming out of your pay and then some. I know where you live. I’ll call the cops on you!”
