Evil is... (Once a Demon Book 2) by P.S. Power

Author:P.S. Power [Power, P.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orange Cat Publishing
Published: 2018-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter nine

Keeley had half expected the hospital staff would either ban her for stealing all their work, since they didn't believe in miracles and had no other category for fixing problems with the human body quickly, or they would bring every person they could past her. Especially the sick kids.

Humans loved children as a rule and were willing, at times, to extend that age range of appreciation out years past when the little ones were still cute and adorable. Made that way by nature, so that their mothers and fathers wouldn’t abandon them in the forest as often, no doubt.

Rather than either of those situations, the staff didn’t do much at all, simply going to the rooms of about half the kids and asking their parents if they wanted them to try the new treatment. The formerly crippled people that had been dropped into Living Proof’s back yard the night before were all being tested, since nothing was wrong with them any longer. That meant getting some x-rays, to prove that the broken bones had actually been repaired. Even if they had been.

Keeley could understand that one, since the hospital wasn’t really ready for strange things to take place most of the time. The outer bruising, swelling and skin abrasions had all vanished though, along with the unfortunate paralysis that had taken hold of two of the drop-ins. That meant it would be worth it for the medical professionals to take a chance on charging for the extra pictures just then.

They really weren’t going to get a whole lot more money from these people or their insurance providers, after all.

In the end, she was taken to a rather brightly colored lounge that, while the walls were painted nicely enough with cartoon characters, all of them recognizable enough that there would be copyright claims being made if the wrong companies ever saw the decorations, still smelled of disinfectant and death. A mélange of a thousand chemicals, drugs and dry air.

Living Proof, sans Steve York their bass player, stood there for a bit, looking at the large screen television, half used coloring books and broken crayons in a box that would have looked right at home in a truck stop back room. Waiting for a bored kid to write on the table top with. Really, considering it was a lounge for children and whoever ran the place was clearly trying their best to be fun and interesting for the sick kids, they hadn’t done a wonderful job. She could tell, since there were no tiny dying people in the place for them to annoy with their chatter and promises of good health.

After five minutes of awkwardly standing there, not sitting or making themselves comfortable, since doing that could extend their stay and she at least had more to do later in the day, two kids came. Both wearing robes with hospital gowns on underneath. The girl had her pink robe tied shut rather primly in the front. The boy, who was older,

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