Her expression must’ve given her away, because his eyes darkened. “As much as I’d like to take credit for the look on your face, I think it’s score two for the shaman. In the midst of the negative, we are drawn to the positive. Each action calling for an equal level of reaction.”

“Every act of destruction calling for an equal act of creation?”

“Hell yeah. In a broom closet.”

“Deal.”

Or not. The unit doors opened and Danielle Burton strode into the common area. The nurse spotted the blood and stopped short, just as Andrew Lightfoot appeared in the hall.

D.D. motioned to Alex. They drew back quietly and got ready for the show.

“What happened?” Danielle demanded. “Who’s hurt? How bad?”

“Aimee got her hands on a pair of scissors,” Lightfoot provided, walking toward the dark-haired nurse. He came to a halt just a foot away from Danielle, taking a long drink from his water bottle. He studied her intently. She took a noticeable step back.

“Is Aimee okay?” Danielle asked, refusing to meet Lightfoot’s gaze.

“Well enough,” the healer murmured, dropping his water bottle to his side. “The milieu went acute, each child going off like firecrackers. I’d like to say there were many learning opportunities, but I’m not sure. The energy here … it is all wrong. Toxic. I’ve spent hours trying to cleanse the girl’s room. I can’t make headway. I’m too spent for this deep a taint.”

“You were working in Lucy’s room?” Danielle asked sharply.

“At Karen’s request.”

“You didn’t know her.”

“I’ve met her soul on the interplanes. She said to tell you thank you.”

“Stop.” Danielle walked away, setting her bag down on one of the tables. For the first time, she noticed D.D. and Alex, standing at the classroom end of the hallway. “Don’t you have work to do?” Danielle asked them pointedly.

“Doing it,” D.D. replied. She and Alex remained in place.

“How are you feeling, Danielle?” Lightfoot asked.

“Just fine,” she bit out.

“It’s not polite to lie.”

“It’s not polite to pretend you know me better than I do.”

“If you feel that I’m overstepping, then I apologize. It’s never my intention to cause you discomfort.” Lightfoot positioned himself closer to Danielle, sticking one hand in the pocket of his white linen trousers, the other tapping his water bottle against his leg.

Despite his earlier assertion that his interest in Danielle was purely professional, D.D. decided his gaze looked awfully personal. As if he wanted to step closer to the young nurse, savor the scent of her skin.

Danielle, on the other hand, clearly didn’t return the sentiment. She marched over to a set of cabinets, unlocked them, and started to pull out cleaning supplies. She snapped on plastic gloves, then grabbed a disinfectant spray.