“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what’s going on.”

Bailey could barely hear herself above the noise of the crowded waiting room, but she had perfected that cutting tone to make the other nurses snap to attention. It was especially useful now, and she could see the four volunteers at the desk all flinch, even as they scurried back to their tasks. On desk duty, the latest victim glared back at her, rising to her full height.

“It’s not my fault!” Falina complained, gesturing toward the dozens of screaming toddlers and overwhelmed parents. “They all showed up at once!” The littlefolk flew up above the desk, her wings barely rustling the papers. It didn’t help at all with the intimidation factor, but at least it put them at eye level.

The redheaded human crossed her arms, biting back the urge to tear into someone. A poor temper helped nobody, and there were things to do.

It wasn’t Falina’s fault that there was pandemonium, Bailey knew. Littlefolk, even big ones, barely scraped past eight inches tall. They were more akin to pixies than humans. Nobody was going to take a nurse the size of a doll all that seriously no matter how powerful the magic and knowledge she possessed. And as the human swept a glance across the rest of the volunteers, she realized there were no people there who could command a crowd as rowdy as this one. No wonder they all looked like they were about to walk out. Their lightning rod—whichever volunteer would usually deal with being the bad guy for the day—was missing. Maybe they’d forgotten to schedule one or some more pressing thing had come up.

Clearly, decisions had to be made. Bailey was happy to be the head bitch in charge.

“Go through and get them all checked in,” Bailey ordered, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Have Lin start with pre-exam work. I have to hunt down our vampire friend.” Clearly something had happened in the area to fill their normally-quiet hours and he would know what that was.

“Val, you’re with me,” Falina shouted, flying up and gesturing toward the blue-haired half-mermaid at their printer. The mermaid, Val, nodded, gathering up their intake forms and a couple of clipboards. With the second nurse, some parents could be reasoned with, and the combo moved easily.

Lin, a mostly-goblin volunteer who had no courage but steady hands, jumped when Bailey turned to them. “You have your orders,” the redhead noted, narrowing her eyes.

“Yes, ma’am!” She had forgotten some of the younger ones did that. Ugh. Still, she couldn’t be that mad when Lin grabbed the first filled intake forms and found the most urgent case. If nothing else, the goblin was trained well.

Some minutes of glaring obnoxious patients into submission later, the crowd had molded into what they needed. Parents and children waited more patiently for the healers to sweep through the chairs, filling forms as fast as Val could manage while Falina interrogated them.

Bailey, still irritated, headed back through the double doors and through the long hallways behind the front desk. She had a few minutes before the first clients would be processed, and now was the perfect time for an ambush.

Between their inexpert construction and the constant swell of magic, some of the hallways were much longer than they should have been. There were plenty of small rooms to hide in under their occasionally non-Euclidean office space. Technically, he could be anywhere.

The healer, however, knew her partner very well by now. She found Rama filling out paperwork in the utility closet, his laptop balanced on one knee and an open briefcase balanced on the other. At his feet sat a graveyard of paperwork, either finished or discarded as he worked. This room didn’t have a table for obvious reasons, but it was far enough from the lobby that the screaming was muffled. Overall, a good workspace for him, if a little unorthodox.

“Why is my clinic suddenly a daycare?” Bailey asked politely, leaning against the door frame. There was no point in yelling at him, even if she wanted to. The vampire was shameless. He blinked innocently, looking up at her with a decidedly cheeky grin. Maybe ten years ago, that might have made her feel special—Rama was decent eye candy, after all—but the healer only raised her eyebrow slightly, waiting for an answer.

“Well, my dear, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t have a big enough vehicle to have brought everyone here myself. And, as you can see, I have been here all morning.”

The vampire, gaunt and pale despite the oaken undertones of his skin, gave her the most winning expression he could. Bailey only narrowed her eyes slightly. “You’re not as funny as you think,” she informed him dryly. “Give me your best guess.”

Usually, she’d have to keep digging at him, but Rama only shrugged again. “I suppose it may have to do with the new board meeting at the Starlight Sister’s hospital chain. I haven’t gotten the details of the meeting minutes just yet, but I have heard they’ve stopped seeing mixed blood children.”

Bailey nearly slipped off the door.

“They what?”

“Worry not. They control barely a quarter of the hospitals in the city.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes it better!” Bailey could feel her blood pressure rising, and she deliberately took a few breaths. “How many new patients should we expect if any new mixed bloods are being turned away?”

Rama moved his laptop to cross his legs, humming as he thought. “Well, certainly no more than a few hundred. Although I can’t imagine they’ll keep the decision. That is a hefty number of children they can no longer bill.”

“Those are children who need medical care, not walking dollar signs.”

“I am aware. I’m not a monster.” Rama laughed at his own joke. “Give it a month and we’ll be back to normal. I will do my best to find new places for them to transfer for regular care in the future. Obviously, we will also need to find overflow care nearby.” His smile turned to a grimace for just a moment, but he buried it away again. “I have several contacts in the Victoria chains. With luck, I can arrange an internal memo reminding them to accept all patients who comply with medical advice. It will make the transition less painful.”

At this, Bailey nodded, just once. “Make sure we’re tapping into local family clinics, too,” she suggested, the fight going out of her. “They might be able to take on new patients as long as we do medical write-ups and they don’t have to do full intake paperwork.”

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, dearest. We’ve tapped out most of our favors.”

“So I’ll pull an extra weekend doing surgery on non-magicals. Make some promises and make sure these people have care.”

Bailey pushed herself out of the room, making her way to one of the exam rooms to set up shop. Their little place wasn’t equipped for crowds like this. Especially not for a month. It was a back alley hospital for magicals and mixed-bloods who couldn’t find appropriate care within their bloodlines. They didn’t have the capacity for this many patients, and anyway it wasn’t like she could do the same things as an actual doctor. She’d dropped out of med school, and they didn’t have any certified nurses or doctors on staff. That meant no meds, no referrals, and nothing even resembling an integrated filing system with the rest of the hospitals in the area.

It was just lucky they worked under the table. She could only imagine how their filing would stand up to a HIPAA review. And that didn’t even get into how they’d start billing if they were an official entity that paid real taxes.

“Fuck,” Bailey hissed to herself, putting a hand to her face. They were a ramshackle group setting up shop in an old vet’s office. She wasn’t qualified for the kind of preventative care children would need. She wasn’t even sure she remembered the overview of pediatrics from college. She’d have to see what textbooks she still had and work from there.

‘Fuck’ didn’t seem like a strong enough expletive.

This was supposed to be for overflow. For the few people who slipped through the cracks. It was never meant to be a primary care facility, especially not for kids who probably needed shots and dietary advice and lab work that she physically could not do here.

The crowd out there probably didn’t care. When she got adults in, most of them were scared and desperate, either unable to find care or unable to afford it. Having a kid in that situation, especially one who might already be sick? She understood why they were piling into her lobby.

Bailey sighed. There was nothing she could do to change the policies down the street. At least not now.

She slipped on her white coat, emblazoned with a pin that had been half a joke and half a warning—Hello, I’m not a doctor—and she made her way back out to the front desk.

“I’ll take the next patients,” she told Val, who manned the desk once more. The timid nurse looked up and nodded, handing over the first of the intake sheets.

“Room four. Complaint is for hoof pain and alleged sprained ankle. He wants to see if it’s a break before going to an ER.”

“Sounds good.”

It was time to get to work.