Amari Spesy had been in the pit since sunset.

  The Pit, a name nearly everywhere she worked dubbed the Emergency Room. A place that housed the chaos junkies of the medical field. The ones that fought tooth and nail, sometimes literally, to get their patient’s stabilized. Walking about her new domain, this was the least like the name implied.

  The wall of windows bathed the waiting room in light most of the day. Even on night shift the efficient flow of the department defied the moniker. Tracks in the ceiling allowed the open space to be cordoned off into a dozen even spaces around monitors, oxygen, and beds. Fluorescent lights reflected on the waxed floors that made rubber wheels squeak. Only the disco light that crackled and buzzed in the corner lessened the pulled together visage.

  Quick reflexes caught Amari as she sat backwards and leaned on the desk chair at the nurse’s station. Chin rested on her wrist; she scanned the patient board. A few taps on the keyboard and her patient’s status was updated to imaging. Now that should be called the pit. A windowless basement near the morgue was far more appropriate for the moniker.

  Amari leaned up at the whoosh of the automatic doors. A mumbling man stumbled over his feet catching himself on the rows of connected chairs.

  “I got this.”

  Amari nodded her thanks as she sat back down. She wasn’t above accepting a little chivalry. John, a grizzled gentleman, quickly was becoming her new favorite night shifter. Diligent, no nonsense, just who you would like around in a pinch. Amari watched as John half-carried the man to the closest open bed. Drunks, by far the worst part of working the night shift, brought up too many unwanted memories, not to mention the smell or the mess.

  Amari breathed deeply as they passed by. Brows pinched, her eyes closed. Pushing off, she rolled down the length of the nurse’s station. “Hey, Amy. Do me a favor. Could you take a glucose meter to John? That guy may not be drunk.”

  “You got it.” The newly christened nurse pushed off the counter, leaving her paperwork abandoned. Bouncing steps shifted the mass of curls that haloed her bright face.

  Few were capable of keeping the luster of innocence. Life in the ER would scratch and ding that brightness. It had been that way for Amari. She never quite found the balance of maintaining the joy when faced with the horrors she saw. So she had chosen to transfer to a different department.

  The only reason she was back on the night shift in her hometown ER? Family. Family kept her sane when the world determined to drive her crazy. This small rural town wasn't immune to the fact that everyone and everything seemed bound and determined to remove themselves from the gene pool. This patient perhaps didn't squarely fall into that category but she doubted his commitment to healthy living.

  Amari chucked at the irony of the scene before her, the joyful optimist bounding up next to the grizzled pragmatist and her somewhere in the middle.

  John’s hand shrugged as he accepted the machine. A few exchanged words, and the confused man held up a finger. The screen flashed. Slowly, John leaned back, brow cocked as he eyed her.

  Explanations. Humans always wanted them but were not always ready for them. Logical explanations for the supernatural were hard to come by when you walked between worlds.

  Amari closed her eyes, retreating to the tranquil forest within her depths of her mind.

  “Hello again, dear one.” The Alpha King's wolf emerged with methodical steps from the smoky trees.

  Amari knelt before the massive wolf, head bowed. It still marveled her that the Alpha King's wolf could visit those bearing his mark. His presence brought peace and joy. “Hello, Ruac.”

  “What has your wolf troubled?” Deep grey drained to nearly invisible white fur. Ends rippled in absent wind. Shining, bright green eyes full of compassion looked down at her.

  Amari longed to reach out and tangle her fingers through the soft fur. “Life was easier on the Alpha King's land. I walked with you daily, far from the troubles of the human world.”

  “You are a werewolf. You know the truth. Most humans are not ready to accept the truth of creatures beyond the natural, let alone The Creator. It is good you sought wisdom.”

  “What do I tell them? I can smell the changes in his body.” The sickly sweetness wrinkled her nose.

  “They would understand you have instincts. That you have abilities that are from us would be a tale for another time.”

  Amari sighed, shoulders slumped. The Fae realm had been something completely apart from the human realm. Unbridled freedom to run and roam, especially with him. “I miss you.”

  “I am always here.” The absent wind dissipated his form and drew away his words.

  “Nice catch. He hadn't eaten all day and was at 60.” The chart clacked against the high countertop. Brow still cocked, John leveled his gaze at her.

  “My nose warned me. Stumbling but no cloud of alcohol fumes you could smell a mile away.” Amari shrugged. “Besides it is a minute test tops. A quick way to rule out a common enough issue.”

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  “I heard you had good instincts, glad the grapevine didn't exaggerate.”

  Amari huffed, not a bad reputation to build.

  “Looks like a quiet night.”

  Amari snapped her eyes to John. Her gaze met the just as quick look of disbelief. “Did. She. Just. Say. The ‘q’ word?”

  John gripped his temples with one hand and a desperate, sad chuckle shook his chest and nodded his head.

  “Didn’t they train these kids on things to not say?”

  “Doesn’t matter, I told her to never say those things.”

  “Amy, might as well go get a few more gauze and suture kits at a minimum.”

  “That’s superstition talking.” Amy hesitated, glancing between the two. Eyes wide.

  “You’re doubting her now? Do as she says.” John jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “How quick do you think this shift will turn around?”

  A few staff on their lunch. No open beds and no one in the waiting room. The ticking standard clock showed twelve fifty-five.

  Amari mentally tallied. “Twenty.”

  “An hour.”

  “Closest doesn't have to chart?”

  “Deal.”

  Amari gripped his hand tightly. Rubbing squeaks hailed the return of the orderlies with a patient. “Mine.”

  Amari dismounted the chair, snagging the patient chart from the stack. A suppressed smug smile pulled at her lips. She twisted her two fingers from her eyes to the clock as John chuckled. Night shifts with these two wouldn’t be bad at all.

  “Welcome back David. Hope you had a pleasant trip.” Amari flipped open his chart on the bedside table. A quick search brought up his scans on the portable computer. “I see you have been cleared. We can get you all stitched up and on your way home.”

  Amari absently opened the top drawer. Confusion bunched her features as her fingers met sterile pads not syringes. Rolling her eyes, she mentally thumped herself.

  “A little poke.” Amari extended the ‘i’ in her warning as she guided the syringe around the laceration along her patient's brow. The soft metal clink joined the cacophony of chaos. Caught on her hand, the sterile rag lifted off the tray as she exchanged her instruments. “Now a bit of pressure, but nothing sharp. Ready?”

  Amari pulled back her hands; glad her mask muffled her chuckle and hid her smile. “Being of few words is normally okay, but I'm really gonna need you to keep your head still.”

  The young man started to nod again. “Sorry. So how many?”

  “I think seven or so should do the trick.” Amari smoothly guided the needle, pulling the sides together. “You’re lucky, David. One, I am fabulous with stitches. Two, you went into the bed, not over the cab.”

  “Seven’s nothin.’ My record is thirty-three. Caught my arm on the fence as I hopped it.” David’s pride filled his words as his eyes rolled up to hers.

  “Thirty-three. Solid.” Amari clicked her teeth. “But, I got you beat.”

  “No way.”

  Amari pressed the heels of her hands to straighten his head, not missing a beat. “Yes, way. Forty-five.”

  David’s eyes went wide. “How’d that happen?”

  “Dog attack. My brother Orion was there to save me.” Warmth covered his name and crinkled Amari’s eyes.

  “Wow, sounds like a story.”

  “A long one.” Amari shifted slightly.

  “Excuse me, ma'am.” A young nurse in light blue scrubs pushed the plastic cloth curtain slightly open.

  “How can I help you Amy? Let me guess, the night is no longer quiet.” Amari’s movements never faltered.

  “They need you in the bay for an MVA.” Amy sounded defeated.

  “Well you have perfect timing then. All done here. Amy, would you walk David here through the care instructions for his wound and start his discharge paperwork?” Amari spun on her stool. A gentle chastising wiggled finger. “No more surfing unless it's on the web or the waves. Got it?”

  David adamantly nodded. They all laughed as Amy placed the bandage in his hair.

  Amari’s laugh was short-lived as she entered the hall. There must be something to this MVA. She grunted as a med cart rolled over her toe. The joys of a small rural emergency room. Staff from other departments were sent to back up the pit.

  Beeps, alarms, shouted orders and tools had always created the symphonic backdrop to her life. Dodging gurneys and equipment being shifted, Amari weaved her way through the hall towards the ambulance bay.

  Rubber gloves squeaked as she stretched her fingers. Scratchy disposable gown crinkled as she wrapped it over her dark blue scrubs. Better safe than sorry, she adjusted a second set of gloves, as she triggered the automatic doors. Her head snapped up and her ears pulled back with the whoosh of the doors. Her eyes darted to the shadows of the bay and parking lot. White explosions of thick drops burst on the shiny blacktop.

  “Spesy, ya good? Looks like ya saw a ghost.” John wiggled his fingers at her, his own disposable gown blowing in the wind.

  “Not…. saw.” Despite her growing fondness for the staff, Amari barely glanced his way as her words drug out.

  Flashing lights and sirens bounced around the bay. Bathed in alternating blue and red, Amari caught the rig number, hand guiding the door open.

  The bright interior housed a familiar large man and a much younger man pushing the patient out of the opening.

  “Rookie, take the handoff.” A commanding aura radiated with the words.

  Amari looked about, everyone stood a little straighter. That never got old. “Hey, Orion. Looks like an interesting call.”

  The rig bounced as his weight settled on the bumper. The blue of his shirt deepened in splotches to become a solid mass over his shoulders accenting the sparkle in his hair. Orion waved her to the side. “Hey there, Chilly.”

  “Another one?” Amari hated seeing the tension in his face and defeat in his eyes.

  “I think so. The cuts on her arm look it. I can't be sure. Would make her third in our territory. Not sure what it is for the area. But they're piling up so to speak.” Orion pulled her into a hug. “Glad you're here, Chilly.”

  Amari hugged him back. “You know if one of us calls, one of us answers.”

  “I'm sorry I dragged you away from your training. You just got a way with newbies. I need you to check her as soon as you can and if it comes to it, talk her through what's to come.” Orion laid his hands on her shoulders.

  Amari felt the urgency of his words, not bearing the weight of a command but nearly. As her older brother she would do anything to ease his burden, as Alpha of the pack he had a duty to both human and werewolf that lived in his territory.

  “I got this.” A chagrined smile covered the promise, as she stepped backwards shrugging. “Can't promise I'll be good at breaking the news, that'll be a new one for me.”