Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 6-10 - Laurell K. Hamilton [585]
I either impressed Doctor Evans, or he needed a restorative cup of tea because he invited me back to the doctors and nurses lounge. There’s no such thing as truly undrinkable coffee, but I hoped the tea was better for Evans’ sake. Though I doubted it. The coffee came out of a can, and the tea was from little bags with strings on them. There’s only so much you can hope for from prepackaged tea and coffee. At home I grind my own beans, but I wasn’t home and I was grateful for the bitter warmth.
I added cream and sugar and noticed that the coffee was trembling in the cup, as if maybe my hands weren’t quite steady. I was also cold. Nerves, just nerves.
If Edward had nerves, you couldn’t tell it as he leaned against the wall, drinking his coffee black. He’d scorned sugar and cream, tough he-man that he was. He winced as he sipped, and I don’t think it was the scalding liquid. His lip was swelling slightly from where I’d kicked him. It made me feel better. Childish but true.
Marks had taken a place on the room’s only couch, blowing on his coffee. He’d taken cream and sugar in his. Evans settled down into the only chair that looked halfway comfortable, sighing as he stirred his tea.
Edward watched me, and I finally realized that he wouldn’t sit down until I did. Screw it. I sat down in a chair that was far too straight-backed to be comfortable, but was placed so I could watch everyone in the room, including the door. There was a small, but full-size, refrigerator against the far wall. It was an older model, done in an odd shade of brown. A small L-shaped cabinet area housed a coffee maker, a second coffee maker with nothing but hot water in it, a sink, and a microwave oven.
Doctor Evans had used the hot water for his tea. There were white plastic spoons in an open packet, and a mug of those useless little coffee stirrers. There’d been a choice of sugar, Nutrasweet, and some other artificial sweetener that I’d never heard of. There was a circle of artificial creamer that had dried into a round crusty ridge where someone had sat a mug down in it. I concentrated on the minutia of the cabinet, trying not to think. For just a few moments I wanted to sip my coffee and not think. I still hadn’t eaten today, and now I didn’t want to.
“You said you had some questions for me, Ms. Blake.” Doctor Evans spoke into the silence.
I jumped, and so did Marks. Only Edward stayed half-leaning against the wall, unmoved, blue eyes watching us all as if he were apart from the tension and the horror. Maybe he was, or maybe it was just an act. I just didn’t know anymore.
I nodded, trying to focus. “How did they all survive?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Do you mean technically how did they survive? Medical detail?”
I shook my head. “No, I mean, one person surviving this much trauma, or even two, I’ll buy. But most people wouldn’t survive it, or am I wrong?”
Evans pushed his glasses more securely on his nose, but nodded. “No, you aren’t wrong.”
“Then how did all six of them survive?” I asked.
He frowned at me. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what you’re trying to say here, Ms. Blake.”
“I’m asking what are the chances that six people of varying sex, background, physical fitness, age, etc. . . . would all be able to survive the same amount of trauma. My understanding is that all the victims that were just skinned have survived, right?”
“Yes.” Doctor Evans was watching me closely, pale eyes searching my face, waiting for me to go on.
“Why did they survive?”
“They’re tough sons of bitches,” Marks said.
I glanced at the lieutenant, then back to Evans. “Are they?”
“Are they what?” the doctor asked.
“Are they tough sons of bitches?”
He lowered his eyes as if thinking. “Two of the men worked out regularly, one of the women was a marathon runner. The other three were just ordinary. One of the men is close to sixty, and didn’t have a regular exercise routine of any kind. The other woman is in her