Velvet Haven

sleep room door creaked open and Mairi dropped her bag on the bed before flopping down onto the lumpy mattress. Digging out the book, she opened it to the page that contained the image of a Celtic triscale. Below it, in fancy gilt lettering, were the words “And so shall come the divine trinity, their numbers the sacred, elemental root of nine warriors . ”
    With her finger, Mairi traced the exquisite work and the brilliant colors of the triscale as she mulled over the words. This was the fun of collecting manuscripts—deciphering them. Normally they were chivalric or biblical stories, but this book, this was far more interesting. From what Mairi could gather, it was written by a woman who was some sort of ancient seer. She had received a vision of the coming Dark Times of her world.
    And there will be black magick and the resurrection of the Dark Arts. There will be sorrow and despair until one of the nine will emerge, either Destroyer or Savior.
    Definitely the best reading she’d ever found. Most people thought she was a nerd to be getting a rush from old, dusty books, but Mairi didn’t care what people thought of her, or her hobby. It was probably why she had few close friends.
    Oh, she was friendly enough with the people she worked with and even went out the odd time with them for dinner and a few drinks, but she wasn’t close to them. She had a hard time getting close to people. Trust wasn’t something that came easily to her.
    Checking her watch, Mairi realized she had only a half hour left on her break. She closed the book and placed it carefully back in her bag. Removing her stethoscope from around her neck, she hung it from an IV pole and kicked off her shoes. Man, she was exhausted. Too many late nights working on the book, and too many nights of interrupted sleep from those weird dreams she kept having.
    With a yawn she fell backward and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

    “Hey, MacAuley, Dr. Stud says he’s got a stiff one for you in trauma three.”
    “Tell him if that’s what he’s dangling for bait, I’m not biting,” Mairi grumbled from beneath the flannel blanket she had stolen from the warming cupboard in the hospital supply room.
    “C’mon, you’re not telling me that Pretty Boy Sanchez doesn’t do it for you?”
    “Look, Louise, I’m on break.” Man, she had just fallen asleep.
    “Get yer ass up, MacAuley. I need you.”
    Mairi groaned. Speak of the devil. “I’m on break!” she snapped, covering her head with a pillow as the room burst into a blast of halogen light. “You ignoramus! Turn the light off.”
    The husky male chuckle from the door made her teeth grate. She so didn’t get the whole Sanchez mystique. The guy was an asshole, and a mediocre ER doc at best.
    “Vicky is covering me for break. Tell her to go.”
    “Yeah, the thing is, the cops aren’t asking for Vicky.”
    Mairi sat up and shoved her hair back from her face. The light was bright and she squinted. “What’d you say?”
    “The cops. They want to see you.”
    Great. What the hell could they possibly want with her? Maybe it was the overdose she’d helped with at the beginning of the shift. Or the suspected wife beater who’d taken his bruised wife home three hours ago. Bet that was it: The wife was dead. Whatever it was, it was damn rude interrupting her on break. A night at St. Michael’s in which you even got a break was rare, and one to be savored. Obviously, she wouldn’t be savoring this one.
    Her gaze shifted to her bag, and suddenly she felt ill. Maybe the nuns had somehow discovered that she’d taken the book? Maybe it was a priceless artifact and now Mairi was going to be arrested for art theft.
    Ah, hell!
    “I’ll be there in a minute,” she grumbled, wiping her face with her hands. What the hell was she going to do? What was she going to say if they knew she had the book?
    “Need a sponge bath?” Sanchez asked with a leer. “It’ll wake you up.”
    “Like a physician’s ever given a sponge bath.”
    He shrugged, watching her with his dark brown eyes as she tossed the flannel aside and reached for her shoes. “Hey, I can play nurse if you wanna play patient.”
    “Not in this lifetime,” she mumbled as she swept past him. Maybe all the other nurses fell for Dr. Sex, but she wasn’t one of them. There was something about the guy that irritated the hell out of her. He was cocky, self-absorbed, and emotionally void. Perfect attitude for a trauma doctor.