Page 7

Chapter

Seven

CLAY

O wen Bhat is standing in my doorway, clutching a shoebox in his shaking hands, biting his lip. His forehead wrinkles, and his eyes are red and watery. He nods repeatedly, and he licks his lip with cautious hope. “Please,” he whispers under his breath.

I scratch at my temple. “You didn’t know where else to go?” I repeat.

Owen shakes his head, holding his breath. His nutmeg-vanilla scent washes over me.

I drink in the sight of my lab partner—disheveled hair, smudged glasses, large winter coat, chapped lips. Adorable . Absolutely adorable.

He makes my chest flutter, just at the sight of him. My throat thickens, and I’m suddenly very thirsty. In more ways than one.

Stop being a horny bastard. He needs help.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” I say, and I sound resentful even to my own ears.

We’ve gone too long with barely speaking, and now he’s here with some sort of shoe emergency.

I should be able to help with that, though.

I mean, Bran went Speedo shopping with Steve.

I’m sure I can help Owen find a footwear solution.

I don’t think we’re the same size, but maybe he can borrow something of Yuki’s.

“Please, Clay? Can you just see if you can do something to help him?”

Blinking, I peer behind Owen. Maybe he has a friend with a problem? While a few dorm-room doors are open, and music and conversation are spilling out, there’s no one nearby. I tried to go out tonight, but begged off early. V-Day means too many sappy couples in love.

I show him my palms and shrug. “Come on in.” I step back, giving him space to enter my dorm.

Shutting the door behind him, Owen starts pacing, still grasping the box. “He’s hurt, and I’m worried about him, and I’m pre-med so I’m supposed to know what to do but I don’t, I just don’t.”

My head shakes slightly, and I hold up a hand. “ Who’s hurt? Your Clawverse hightops?”

Owen’s eyes narrow. “What? No. The bat.” He shoves the shoebox toward me, and I accept it automatically.

“What bat?” The box has holes punched into it. It’s good that I recognized that, otherwise I would’ve shaken the box like a present.

“Be careful when you take off the lid. I hope he’s okay.”

What on Earth is going on here? What kind of bat did he find?

I set the box on my bed and carefully open it. Inside is the smallest bit of black fuzz with big eyes and fangs, along with black membranous wings. The fuzz mewls at us, and there’s some fresh blood on his wing. Poor little guy. “You found a vampire bat? ”

Owen tugs at his hair. “Is it a vampire bat? I wasn’t sure.”

I nod as I gently slide a finger in the box to pet his head. He makes a squeaking noise.

“He’s hurt. I knocked something over, and it damaged his wing.” Owen sits down next to me on the bed, then gets up again, then sits down.

Instantly, I’m on high alert. “Then we need to get him to a veterinarian.”

Owen pauses at me and blinks. “A vet? Why...didn't I think of that?”

I can't help but grin. “I have my moments.”

“I don’t have money to pay for a vet,” Owen admits.

“I do. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go.” I have a scholarship I don’t need since I’ve had twenty years to gather money. Other than a few early years when I was testing the limits of vampire life, I haven’t spent much of it.

“You’ll go with me?”

“Definitely,” I say, flashing my fangs and hopefully giving him a reassuring smile, although we need to get a move on if he has serious injuries. “Back you go into the dark, buddy,” I coo at the bat as I put the lid back on. “Just let me get my shoes.”

“Thank you so much,” Owen breathes. “I was so worried about him.”

I put a hand on his shoulder and then remove it quickly. “Let’s get him some help.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’re pulling up to the Creelin Veterinary Urgent Care. I drove, and Owen called ahead of time to get us on the list. I made sure to remember my wallet and keys this time, but I forgot my phone.

The waiting room is large, new, and pristine, with industrial flooring and cleaning supplies at the ready.

There’s an older man sitting in the back holding a dachshund, and a pair of women playing on their phones with a parrot in a cage on the floor near them.

The walls are covered with framed photographs of the pets they’ve taken care of, from cats and dogs to snakes and frogs to fire lizards and wolves.

The vampire behind the counter looks up as we walk in. “We’re the ones who called a few minutes ago,” I say. “We’ve got an injured vampire bat.”

I notice a sign on the wall that reads, We triage your pet’s emergency based on the following criteria: Critical: broken bones, poisoning, excessive bleeding; Urgent: Constipation, sneezing, vomiting; Stable: Fleas, broken nails, abscesses. With my nail, I tap on Critical . “This is us.”

She nods. “Are you in our system?”

“No.”

“Then why don’t you complete this paperwork after you bring him to the back?” she asks. Thank the monster god the veterinarians aren’t hung up on bureaucracy.

Following Owen, I take the clipboard and go with her into an exam room where I fill out the forms. After I hand them to a tech, we wait and wait and wait.

“I bet this isn’t how you wanted your Valentine's Day to go?” Owen asks in a facetious tone. I can tell he’s fighting exhaustion, anxiety, and guilt.

Except…my day perked up the moment Owen knocked on my door. “I’m good with it,” I tell him.

Owen opens his mouth to say something else when the veterinarian quietly comes in.

“I’m Dr. Soto, and I’m happy to help.” She’s a human and is clearly used to not spooking animals or monsters.

“Let’s see your little bat,” she says, placing the box on a towel on the exam table.

She gently opens the box lid. “Aww, friend. What happened to you?”

“I accidentally hurt him,” Owen says. “I didn’t know he was in this old birdhouse, and I knocked it over. I didn’t mean to injure him. I feel terrible.”

I sling an arm around Owen’s shoulders. “No one thinks you’d hurt anyone on purpose, let alone an innocent creature.”

“It’s good that you got him to help quickly,” Dr. Soto says.

She carefully does some assessment of his vital signs, respiratory system, and alertness, then turns to us.

“I’m going to dress his wound and give you some medicine for him.

But after he is healed, he’s still going to need rehabilitation.

We could take him inpatient, but with it being Valentine’s Day, we’re short-staffed.

So we’ll have to call around and see who has space for twenty-four-hour care of a vampire bat.

But he does need to go to a rescue facility. ”

Owen wrinkles his brow and bites his lip. “How expensive is it?

“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter.

“I do worry about it. I can’t afford it.”

“Can we just rehabilitate him?” I ask the veterinarian. “What do we have to do?”

Dr. Soto tilts her head back and forth. “Bats make poor pets because they’re wild animals and nocturnal.”

I show her my fangs. “I’m wild and nocturnal too.”

Owen must be feeling a little better because he playfully shoves me with his shoulder.

“Well, it’s not entirely unheard of to have a vampire nurse a vampire bat, and we do have handouts on their care,” she says, thumbing through some flyers in cubbies on the wall.

“Let me get you a few. If you’re interested in taking on the responsibility, we can support you with that.

He will need to have regular checkups, and call us immediately if his symptoms worsen.

He’s going to need care, and then a lot of space for flying. ”

What else am I going to do with my time? I’ve been spending the past few weeks rehabbing my bruised ego from Owen’s rejection. I’m not sure why it got to me so much, but it’s kept me from any hookups.

And the idea of being able to spend more time with him is definitely enticing.

I look over at Owen. “Bat dads?”

He nods. “Bat dads.”

I hold out my knuckles, and he fist-bumps me.

After receiving more instructions from the veterinarian and paying the bill—Owen sees the amount, and I have to whisper in his ear that it’s no big deal—we head back out to the car.

Next stop is the twenty-four-hour FangMart superstore. There, as Owen cuddles the shoebox, we pick out supplies.

“I’ll be expecting you to respond to my texts regarding the updated care of Bat Nathanson.”

A snicker escapes my lips. “Bat Nathanson?”

Owen turns a shade darker, like he’s embarrassed, as he looks away. “Well yeah.” He shifts up his glasses in the cutest way. “The doctor said he was a boy. We have to name him. The best Matt I know is that indie alternative singer dude from the turn of the millennium.”

My heart swells. “You know Matt Nathanson?”

His eyes fill with surprise. “ You know Matt Nathanson?”

A laugh bubbles from my chest as I cradle the shoebox. “Dude, Matt Nathanson is my jam. I was in my twenties twenty years ago, remember?”

“Oh right…the vampire age thing.” His coldness seems cute, like an afterthought or accessory.

I smile at the little guy in my arms. “Hear that? Your papa wants to call you Bat Nathanson.”

Owen stares at me skeptically. “Papa?” I gaze at my lab partner and take in his adorable face. He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Fine. If I’m his Papa, I guess that makes you his bat Daddy. ”

I snicker. “Well, then?—”

“No, I am not calling you Daddy,” he says with a frown. With that, we both start cracking up. I didn’t expect to take in a pet on Valentine’s Day, but with this new connection to Owen, I’m not complaining.