In that case, she was stumped.
As he continued the exam, the werewolf asked more questions of his own. About her medical history, her family’s health, her level of physical activity, other standard lifestyle-related questions, and so on. No, she didn’t smoke. No, she didn’t take drugs. No, she didn’t drink regularly. Not even elderflower cocktails.
That unprompted addendum caused the doctor to blink owlishly at her for a few moments through his smudged glasses.
After completing his preliminary exam, he immediately got to work ordering various tests and hooking her up to an IV. Apparently she was dehydrated, which didn’t come as an enormous surprise, given all her vomiting. He then called in a lab-coated witch for magical scans and post-vision healing. And several hours later, she woke from a nap to a relatively clean bill of health for herself and her baby. Also some very surprising news.
She squinted sleepily at the doctor. “Are you certain? All this time,that’swhy my visions were so inconsequential?”
“It’s my best guess, and I think it’s a good one.” He dragged his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time, rumpling it beyond repair, and his glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose. “Your nausea and nosebleeds should respond to standard preventative pre-vision measures or ameliorative post-vision treatments for high-powered oracles, none of which are dangerous for your unborn child. If your condition deteriorates in any way,however, or the usual treatments don’t suffice, or if you experience new symptoms, call or come back immediately. There are other tests we could run, as necessary.”
After checking that she wished to be released into Hugh’s care, he wheeled her back out to the SERC councilor, who was waiting for her in the world’s most chichi hospital lounge.
Was that a three-piece orchestra playing in the far corner? Really?
Once the doctor’s discussion with the room’s attendant had cleared her plebeian presence in this exclusive space, he rolled her farther inside the lounge. As soon as Hugh caught sight of her, he thrust aside his laptop, sprang up from his brocade couch, and dodged various tuxedo-clad, canapé-bearing servers on his way to her side. She extended a hand, and he claimed it immediately in his own.
He looked from her to the doctor and back again. “Everything okay?”
“I’ll let Ms. Wexloff explain as much or as little as she cares to,” the werewolf said dryly. “I suspect she’d prefer to do so in a place with more privacy than this upper-crust abomination.”
Gwen snorted, and he actually cracked a smile.
The doctor accepted her heartfelt thank-you with surprising—albeit gruff—graciousness. When Hugh offered his own gratitude, though, the werewolf irritably waved it off and strode away, muttering something about leftover stewed squirrel.
Then Hugh tucked a blanket around her with careful, tender hands and pushed her out to his car. It was parked, naturally, in a gated VIP lot, because of course it was.
She could barely hold herself back until they were both safely inside.
“How’s—” she began as soon as his door closed.
“What did the doctor say?” Hugh asked at the exact same moment, then paused. “If you’re willing to share that information with me.”
“Of course I am.” Most of it, anyway. “I’m perfectly fine. I have no ill effects from my smoke inhalation and absolutely no burns. But before I tell you the rest, how’s Haziq?”
“Resting comfortably at home, with a clean bill of health.” Hugh started his car and efficiently ticked off the arrangements he’d made while backing out of his parking space. “I contacted his supervisor to sing his praises and inquire how I could best subsidize a significant raise for him. And since he left his phone at work in all the commotion, I also called his parents while he was still being examined so they wouldn’t see the news and worry. At his request.”
He pulled up to the metal gate guarding the lot. “And now, what did—”
“Is your apartment at all salvageable?” When she hadn’t been sleeping, answering the doctor’s questions, or freaking out about various other issues, she’d been agonizing over the damage to his property and the rest of the building. “I hope the fire didn’t spread to the other apartments.”
“It didn’t.” His response was a tad brusque. “If my neighbors haven’t already been allowed back into their homes, they will be shortly, and insurance will cover any smoke or water damage. Andnow, can youplease—”
“But what about all your stuff?” She was wringing her hands as they waited for the gate to finish opening, which she only realized when his own hot hand settled soothingly over hers. “I didn’t see everything clearly, but I know your couch was on fire, and—”
“Again, I have insurance.” His lips quirked, and he took a right out of the VIP lot. “Also a valid excuse to change my apartment’s interior design aesthetic.”
At that excellent point, she subsided into her seat. “Are you sure you didn’t lose anything irreplaceable?”
“I’m sure, Gwen.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, the brush of his lips blessedly warm against her chilled skin. “The only irreplaceable element in my apartment is safe and sound. Or so I’m told, albeit without further details. Despite my repeated efforts at learning those details.”
Her brow crinkled. “Surely the apartment manager could go inside and check on whatever it is. Or if—”
“Gwen.”
“—the premises are still considered unsafe, maybe a firefighter—”
“Gwen.”
