Dark War by Tim Waggoner Page A

rapidly heal all injuries (with the exception of wooden stakes to the heart and severe sunburn). But the Bloodborn's interest in medicine has nothing to do with them. Rather, it's all about maintaining a healthy food supply. The healthier humanity is, the purer their blood. So throughout the centuries vampires developed and passed on their medical knowledge to human physicians so that the health of the herd might be maintained. Most human beings are unaware of this, of course, and good thing. Who would want to know that the cough syrup they'd just given their sick child was developed by a predator species that views humans as a tasty snack?
    Â Â Over the course of the four centuries since Nekropolis was founded, the physicians at the Fever House have expanded the scope of their medical knowledge to encompass treating Darkfolk of all kinds, and while many Nekropolitans have healing powers equal to those of vampires, there are still any number of illnesses and injuries – mundane and magical – that they need help recovering from, and the Fever House does a brisk trade. I knew Devona was in good hands medically speaking, the best the city had to offer, but I was still nervous. Our situation wasn't exactly a common one, and I doubted they covered half-vampire/zombie matings in vampire medical school.
    Â Â As I was thinking, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye – something small and dark scuttling across the floor. Without a functioning nervous system, I couldn't feel a physical chill, but I experienced the psychic equivalent. The last time I'd seen something like that… I turned to get a clearer look, and I saw a black shape the size of a large insect zip past my feet and disappear beneath Devona's bed. Or thought I did. It moved so fast, I couldn't tell if it was real or maybe just a trick of the light combined with my anxiety over Devona's condition. I may not be the most imaginative guy, but living in Nekropolis will make anyone a bit jumpy. Here, monsters under the bed aren't just a childhood fantasy.
    Â Â I didn't want to say anything, not only because I wanted to avoid worrying Devona but I also to avoid looking like a fool in case the bug was nothing more than my imagination. So I concentrated, and the thin flesh tendrils keeping my right hand attached to my wrist released their grip. I allowed my hand to fall to the floor, and I followed up the soft plap of its dead meat hitting the tiled floor with a muttered, "Damn it!" Then I bent down to retrieve my hand and took the opportunity to sneak a quick peek under the bed. There was nothing there, not even dust. It seemed the hospital staff's fanatical devotion to keeping their institution germ-free extended to the finer points of housekeeping as well. Which made the likelihood that there were insects scuttling around the rooms seem all the more impossible. 
    Â Â I decided the bug had been nothing but my imagination after all. I held my wrist stump near my hand, and it obligingly backed up like a tiny vehicle in reverse and reattached itself. I flexed my fingers to make sure everything was working, and then I stood once more.
    Â Â "You really should have someone sew that back on while we're here," Devona said.
    Â Â "Sorry," Dr Servia said, sounding anything but, "we don't perform medical procedures on your kind ." 
    Â Â The subtle added stress on those last two words got my hackles up, but I kept myself from responding – one more step on my way to becoming a paragon of self-restraint. Devona's scowl told me she was going to say something, but I reached out to her through our link and projected a wave of calm to let her know that I didn't think the doctor's comment was worth commenting on. Devona gave me a look that said, All right, if you say so , but I could feel that she wasn't happy about it. As a half-vampire she'd spent her whole life dealing with the racism and classism of full-blooded vampires, and she had