Page 35 of Silent Stalker
“Precisely.”
“I guess vampires don’t show up in court for medical malpractice suits often, do we?”
“I don’t recommend starting a career aiding vampires with medical malpractice cases. Outside of botched surgeries, which we can heal from much better than regular humans, we dodge many of the pitfalls. We can still get ill, but it’s a lot harder to kill us,” Emerick confirmed, sitting on his favorite armchair. “Come sit with me. By the time he’s finished with you, you won’t be walking to bed on your own. His preferred method of stitching someone up involves knocking them out so the patient doesn’t interfere with his pristine stitches.”
Giovanni shrugged. “It’s true.”
If the doctor wanted to keep me from feeling a damned thing, I wouldn’t complain. I’d endured enough throbbing and generalized pain for one night, so I sat on Emerick’s lap, made certain Giovanni could access my arm, and wiggled until comfortable. “Okay. I’m ready for nap time. Just don’t let me starve to death.”
Emerick chuckled. “I’ll make sure you guzzle down a bottle of Wagyu before putting you to bed for the night. You won’t starve. At absolute worst, you’ll be a little peckish tomorrow, but you’ll be feeling miserable enough you probably won’t want to eat or drink anything anyway. We can suffer together and make a date of it.”
“That’s the worst date night idea ever, Emerick. Going out for a meal of bad miscreant blood with a high chance of injury is a far better date night idea.”
“She’s right, Emerick. Mutual suffering is not a great idea for a date.”
“But the company will be good,” Emerick muttered.
“Just give him credit, Giovanni. He tried.”
