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monitor and recognized me. “Will he make it?” she asked.
    If he was pissed off enough to fight, hopefully he was pissed off enough to live. “We’ll see,” I said.
    I jogged out to my car, cold crawling up my shins. Thin cotton scrubs didn’t keep any cold out, or heat in—by the time I made it to my little Chevy I was freezing. I cranked the engine on and dialed the heat up, holding naked hands out to the vents in supplication. When I’d thawed enough to operate my vehicle, I drove home, right past the accident site. Other ignorant cars drove over the stranger’s blood, but not me. I changed lanes.
    By the time I made it home I was warm, but I felt disgusting. The birdbath scrubbing I’d given myself in the bathroom sink wasn’t cutting it anymore. I could feel the sweat and grime, not to mention blood, that I was sure was still there, trapped deep in my pores. Screw a bleach bath; if I ever got paid decently, I’d install a chlorhexidine shower.
    I parked close to my apartment, ran inside, and locked the door behind me. My Siamese cat Minnie came up to greet me at the door. She sniffed me, then gave a disappointed yowl—she knew I’d been consorting with dogs. “I know, I know.” As I shimmied off my clothing, German started chattering from the vicinity of my kitchen’s countertop bar, from Grandfather’s CD player.
    “Not you too.” It’d been a while since he’d last spoken to me, not that I ever knew what he was saying. I’d picked him up from a patient—or rather, he’d picked me out—and he only spoke German, a language I didn’t comprehend. He lived in a CD player that didn’t have a CD in it or batteries. I didn’t want to say he was a ghost … but I didn’t know what else he could be. Mostly I knew how he was feeling by his tone. Today it sounded like I was in trouble.
    “I missed you too, Grandfather.” I patted his player. The lid didn’t sit right, but the structural integrity wasn’t important. He said something else that sounded snippy, and his on-light went to yellow.
    “I didn’t do anything bad, honest.” I tossed my scrubs and coat into a trash bag. I’d be down one good bra until I laundered everything, dammit—but laundry could wait until after I’d showered.
    I went into my bathroom and cranked the shower up to scalding, flicking my hand under it while I waited for the water to heat. Once I was under it, the hot water calmed me down. I concentrated on scrubbing myself clean, each and every part, more so than I usually bothered to, even after taking care of that one patient with active TB.
    When I emerged, pink and dewy, I became aware of a vortex of cold air rushing in from beneath the door, trumping my bathroom’s jungly shower clime. Plus—I heard Grandfather talking to himself again outside, sounding extremely displeased. It was December, and I knew I hadn’t left any windows open—
    Old Edie would have naively walked out into her living room, wondering what’d happened. New Edie sashed her robe tight, grabbed the toilet plunger to hold it like a club, and listened at the bathroom door before opening it.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    My apartment was small. My bathroom was across from my bedroom—I opened the door quietly, and peeked into the dark room, before hearing someone talking in my living room.
    “Really now, the things you say,” said a female voice. The German invectives continued.
    I ran down the hall and leapt into my living room, the plunger held high. “Who’s there?”
    By the dim light of my reading lamp, I could see a young blond girl kneeling beside my couch. It took me a second to recognize her—Anna looked much older than when we’d last seen each other, ten days ago. Sweet sixteen was what the songs said, but what sixteen-year-old had ever thought that about themselves? She was playing tug-of-war with Minnie, using a piece of ribbon. She looked from the plunger to me and smiled, showing tiny triangles of fang.
    She looked almost human,