A Terrible Fall of Angels (Zaniel Havelock #1)(9)

“It’s that kind of abrupt change, Lieutenant. It’s not a person soul-searching for years to find their place in the world or in Deity’s plan, it’s like a lightbulb that gets turned on one day in a room that was already bright and sunny. It’s not bringing people out of the darkness into the light of spiritual growth, it’s shining so much light on a person that they become blind to the joy they already have.”

“Okay, but why is it impacting the nursing staff?” Paulson asked.

“Like I said, I think it’s because he’s psychic.”

“What kind of psychic is he?”

“Empath mostly,” Charleston said, which was my clue not to add anything else. If my boss didn’t want the doc to know everything Gimble could do, then that was okay with me. I didn’t like oversharing with civilians.

“Is he a receptive or a projective empath?” Paulson asked, and that meant he paid more attention than most civvies did to gifted Americans. Most people didn’t even know that there was more than one type of empath, or that their power could be more than just picking up emotional impressions from others.

“Mostly receptive,” Charleston said, which again was my cue to not overshare.

“But he can project, too?” Paulson said.

Charleston made a head movement that could have been a nod or a shrug. Paulson took it as a nod. “Then could he be projecting his emotions onto my nursing staff?”

I nodded before I could stop myself, but Charleston conceded it. As if on cue the male nurse came back down the corridor and tried to go into the room, but Paulson stepped in his way.

“What is it, Gonzales?”

“Time to check the patient’s vitals, Doctor.”

Paulson shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

The anger flared in Paulson’s eyes again. “You took his vitals less than ten minutes ago, I’m sure.”

“Maybe he pressed his call button?”

Paulson sighed and ordered the man to go back to his other duties. One of the other nurses was walking this way and passed Gonzales to reach Gimble’s room.

“What is it, Prescott?” he asked her.

“The patient pressed his call button.”

Paulson leaned back into the room and asked, “Did you press your call button?”

“No, but I’d love some company.” I could see George’s smile while he said it; he was a very social guy. I wondered if that was part of it; was he literally projecting his social need on the nurses? Had the angel somehow increased his psychic abilities? That would be a first.

“Check on your other patients, Prescott, this one is fine.” She went farther down the hallway, and I saw the last nurse peeking around the corner at us, as if she’d go into Gimble’s room as soon as the coast was clear.

“I can’t have the entire nursing staff on this floor ignoring the other patients.”

“Understood,” Charleston said.

“Then what are you going to do about it?” Paulson asked, one hand on his hip, so the white coat swept back from his scrubs as if he was going for a weapon almost.

“What’s your background with the gifted, Doctor, if you don’t mind me asking?” I said.

“I do mind you asking.” He turned back to my boss. “What are you going to do about his disrupting this hospital?”

“I’ll make some calls. I’ll leave Detective Havelock here until we can come up with a more permanent solution.”

“How is the detective supposed to help the issue? I mean, if he could help, then why isn’t he already?”

Charleston smiled at the man’s anger, trying to be pleasant. “Maybe he can help shoo the nurses out.”

“I cannot guarantee that their fascination with this patient isn’t compromising their ability to care for the other patients on this floor. Your detective isn’t the only one here who was negatively impacted by a spiritual experience. I need my staff to be able to care for all of them.”

“I understand that, Doctor, and I will find someone whose gifts help the situation a little more actively than Havelock here, but until I can find the right person for the job Havelock is one of my best people.”

I fought not to react too much to that last statement. Charleston wasn’t much for that kind of compliment in front of civilians. Of course, maybe he was just reassuring the doctor. Either way I tried to look worthy of the compliment; some days I’d have believed Charleston was right, but Gimble was compromised because I had told the angel that it didn’t have to pretend to be human for me; if I hadn’t invited it to show itself in pure form it wouldn’t have done it in a public area. So it was my fault that Gimble was blissed out and projecting happy social messages to the nurses, and if he gave away all his belongings and became a monk that would be my fault, too. I prayed hard that he got over this—I didn’t want another person going insane because I couldn’t protect them from the angels. One was plenty.





CHAPTER FOUR




The lieutenant started to make his call just down the hallway from Gimble’s room, but I saw him look at the rooms on the other side of the hallway and then he looked at the door in the middle. He wrapped his hand around something that was under his button-down shirt. I knew it was a small bag that he wore around his neck. As long as I’d known him, he’d worn it constantly. He lowered his hand from the bag and came back down the hallway to me. “Ask the doctor what is in this room. I don’t mean just metaphysical patients, but exactly what’s wrong with them.”