the ordinary, and people tended to have varying reactions when they saw us together. What surprised me was hearing Devona refer to me as her husband. We weren't married, not in any legal sense of the word. Before relocating to Nekropolis to escape the always-increasing human population, the Darkfolk had tended to live in isolated pockets and out-of-the-way places. They hadn't really had anything like a centralized government, so there was no need for formal laws. If one Darkfolk wanted to have a long-term romantic relationship with another, they just did so without worrying about any kind of legally binding agreement. Besides, the concept of holy matrimony didn't sit well with the more diabolical members of the Darkfolk. And so there were no priests or justices of the peace to marry people in Nekropolis â at least as far as I knew â and the issue had never come up between Devona and me, despite the fact that we'd been living together for a while now and she was carrying my child.Â
  I'd been married once before, back on Earth when I was alive, but it hadn't lasted long. I'd been a cliché â the cop who was more dedicated to his career than his marriage â and eventually my wife got tired of trying and gave up. And I don't blame her one bit. But that had been years ago, and I'd long since moved on. I wasn't averse to the idea of getting married again; it just didn't seem like something that was even possible in Nekropolis, let alone necessary.
  So why did it bother me to hear Devona refer to me as her husband?
  The doctor looked at me like I was something nasty she'd found in a patient's bedpan. "Be that as it may, we maintain the strictest standards of cleanliness at the Fever House, and it's unacceptable for there to be a⦠person present in the room who's experiencing active â if delayed â decay. The germsâ¦"Â
  "I was thoroughly, and rather humiliatingly, decontaminated when we arrived," I said. "And a nurse gave me this." I removed a gem-encrusted amulet from my jacket pocket and showed it to the doctor. "She told me that as long as I kept it on my person, I wouldn't be in danger of germifying anyone."Â
  The doctor frowned. "Such magic isn't one hundred percent efficacious â it's the main reason we prefer to use technology whenever possible in our treatment plans â but I suppose it'll be sufficient in this case." She turned one again to Devona. "Especially since you so strongly desire your⦠husband to remain. Though I will have to ask him to please step away from the bed so that I might conduct my examination without hindrance."
  The doctor was long past the point of getting on my nerves, but I reminded myself that she was here to help Devona, and I kept my mouth shut as I stood and stepped away from the bed.
  The doctor introduced herself as she checked the readouts on the various monitors.
  "I'm Dr Servia, director of emergency medicine. I realize that your past appointments have been with one of my colleagues in obstetrics, but as of now, I'll be taking charge of your care. Tell me what happened."
  So Devona gave the doctor a condensed version of our adventure in the parallel dimension Darius had transported us to, while Servia continued examining her.
  Fever House was an old-fashioned name for hospital, and the first time I'd heard the term, I'd imagined something like an asylum filled with shrieking straitjacketed patients confined in cell-like rooms with stone floors and walls. But vampires have been practicing the art of medicine since before humanity had developed a written language, and there's nothing primitive about the facilities at the Fever House. They're easily as sophisticated as any Earth hospital, if not more so. You might wonder why vampires bother with medicine â after all, as long as they have access to a steady diet of human blood, they're immortal and
  I'd been married once before, back on Earth when I was alive, but it hadn't lasted long. I'd been a cliché â the cop who was more dedicated to his career than his marriage â and eventually my wife got tired of trying and gave up. And I don't blame her one bit. But that had been years ago, and I'd long since moved on. I wasn't averse to the idea of getting married again; it just didn't seem like something that was even possible in Nekropolis, let alone necessary.
  So why did it bother me to hear Devona refer to me as her husband?
  The doctor looked at me like I was something nasty she'd found in a patient's bedpan. "Be that as it may, we maintain the strictest standards of cleanliness at the Fever House, and it's unacceptable for there to be a⦠person present in the room who's experiencing active â if delayed â decay. The germsâ¦"Â
  "I was thoroughly, and rather humiliatingly, decontaminated when we arrived," I said. "And a nurse gave me this." I removed a gem-encrusted amulet from my jacket pocket and showed it to the doctor. "She told me that as long as I kept it on my person, I wouldn't be in danger of germifying anyone."Â
  The doctor frowned. "Such magic isn't one hundred percent efficacious â it's the main reason we prefer to use technology whenever possible in our treatment plans â but I suppose it'll be sufficient in this case." She turned one again to Devona. "Especially since you so strongly desire your⦠husband to remain. Though I will have to ask him to please step away from the bed so that I might conduct my examination without hindrance."
  The doctor was long past the point of getting on my nerves, but I reminded myself that she was here to help Devona, and I kept my mouth shut as I stood and stepped away from the bed.
  The doctor introduced herself as she checked the readouts on the various monitors.
  "I'm Dr Servia, director of emergency medicine. I realize that your past appointments have been with one of my colleagues in obstetrics, but as of now, I'll be taking charge of your care. Tell me what happened."
  So Devona gave the doctor a condensed version of our adventure in the parallel dimension Darius had transported us to, while Servia continued examining her.
  Fever House was an old-fashioned name for hospital, and the first time I'd heard the term, I'd imagined something like an asylum filled with shrieking straitjacketed patients confined in cell-like rooms with stone floors and walls. But vampires have been practicing the art of medicine since before humanity had developed a written language, and there's nothing primitive about the facilities at the Fever House. They're easily as sophisticated as any Earth hospital, if not more so. You might wonder why vampires bother with medicine â after all, as long as they have access to a steady diet of human blood, they're immortal and
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