The doctor's office was packed. Alex double-checked the address on Foucher Street. It still matched.

"Excuse me," Alex politely addressed the harassed woman behind the desk.

"Sign in." The woman shoved a clipboard at her. Her short hair was spiked on top and bleached on the ends, looking like a crown of golden spikes.

"Uh," Alex began.

"Sign. In."

There was a wild look in the woman's eyes that intimidated Alex, so she signed her name. The phone rang and the woman picked it up. Alex handed her the clipboard when she slammed down the receiver .

"Insurance card."

"I'm from the temp agency," Alex replied.

"Why did you sign in like a patient? Come behind the desk."

Eyes wide, posture stiff, and hands fisted from adrenaline pumping from surprise, Alex obediently rounded the desk and sat in the chair next to the woman.

"This is a telephone. Answer it. Transfer medical questions to nursing by pushing 1, billing questions push 2, medical records 3, and appointments give to me. Our telephone answering system is broken. We don't have the money to fix or replace it. If any patient yells at you, ask for their name, write it down, and tell them they're discharged from the practice. This is the sign in sheet. Give it to everyone who comes to the desk. If they don't come to the desk, tell them to sign in. I'll figure out their co-pay."

Alex sat frozen like a deer in headlights. Thugs were one thing, but this was one tough boss and a whole lotta info. Alex nodded numbly when the woman shoved the phone at her.

******

So the morning went. Alex never realized there were so many angry people at a doctor's office.

Sick and miserable, sure, but angry?

Five patients had yelled at her before lunch.

"Where are the EKG results on Lombard?" An equally harassed man in a rumpled white coat asked her. There were dark circles under his eyes and a splash of something greenish yellow on the lower corner of his coat, but Alex was too scared to tell him.

Alex stared at him for a moment before turning to look at the frazzled woman, her hair now sticking out at odd angles all over her head. Unfortunately, she was back on the phone.

"Who are you? Never mind. I'm not learning your name until you've lasted two weeks. Tell Carol to call for that EKG." He flipped the chart onto the counter and walked off. Alex figured Carol was the harassed woman, who had been too busy to tell Alex her name.

******

By the time five o'clock rolled around, Alex felt like a wet washcloth that had been wrung out more than once. Two patients had screamed at her, demanding their fifty-page paperwork be filled out now. Five had cried that they needed their hydrocodone increased or it had been stolen and they needed more. They threw pens at her when she told them the doctor had discharged them for illegal drug abuse. One had demanded that the doctor see her without waiting. Alex had refrained from pointing out that it was called a waiting room for a reason. At least Carol handled the few patients who claimed they couldn't pay their co-pay, as they pulled out cigarettes and smart phones with their professionally manicured fingernails.

Most of the patients had been polite. The few bad apples always stand out in everyone's minds.

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" Carol, who turned out to be the office manager, asked in a kindlier tone than she had used all day.

"I'm supposed to."

"But are you? Tomorrow will be better," Carol said, twisting a spike of her hair around and around her finger.

She was obviously lying, but so desperate that Alex regarded her with pity.

"I'll give you a forty dollar cash bonus," Carol said at her silence.

"Sold!" Alex said cheerfully, thinking of the vodka she could buy with it. "It'll be fine. I've seen worse. See you tomorrow."

******

The crowds on the sidewalk were impenetrable, about average for New Orleans rush hour.  Alex, used to the crush of people, didn't react to the pressure against her shoulder.  A sharp shove pushed her into a small, brick lined alley.

Reflexively, she threw off the hands that pushed her, raised her arms to block, and braced herself.  Then she saw who it was and froze in fear.

"Glad you remember me."  Morgan's voice slithered down her spine and chilled her blood.

"Back off, Morgan or I'll—"

"Or you'll what? Scream for help? That'll do a lot of good in New Orleans. Remember Kitty Genovese? She screamed for three hours as she was raped again and again before she was finally murdered. No one bothered to call the police from the safety of their New York apartments. Do you think anyone will help you if you scream? Or do you think you can blast me?" Morgan asked, his fishy grey gaze mocking her.

Alex glanced over. They were only a few feet from the sidewalk, but he was right. If she called out, she was sure to be ignored.  New Orleans did nothing to improve her opinion of human nature.

"Want to know why your powers don't work against me?" he taunted.

Alex had no interest in the 'why's' of her life. Her powers didn't work on Morgan. She knew it, she hated it, but she accepted it. 'Why' was irrelevant and she refused to be goaded.

"What do you want?" she asked in as irritated a tone as she could muster through her terror.

He took her hand, appearing to hold it gently, but bent back her little finger.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out. 

He feeds off my pain and fear. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"I'll be watching and waiting for our time alone.  It'll come and you'll never see it until it's too late." He smiled as he gave her finger a swift twist.

She heard, as well as felt, a pop.  She bent over reflexively and he was gone.  The hot tears that forced their way through her lids were born of anger as well as pain.

******

Alex was delayed at the urgent care center, but it was better than hours in an ER for a dislocated finger.  She looked with disgust at the awkward metal splint on her finger.

Careless of Morgan not to break it. He must not have been certain that no one would care about my screams since he let me go.

"Over here, Alex." Gabe waved at her from the carriage house.

She ran to meet him and slipped in a puddle.  He grabbed her hand to steady her.

"Ow!" She regretted not stifling her yelp of pain.

He examined the metal splint. "What's wrong?"

"Sprained my finger," she muttered. 

"How did you sprain it?"

"Tripped."

"Where did you trip?"

Walking home." Alex took her hand back.

"That's odd. You're not the type to trip. What happened?" Gabe searched her face.

"Am I being held for questioning, officer?" Alex smiled to take the sting from her words.

"Do you need to be? What happened?" Gabe tilted his head, eyes shrewd but not unkind.

"Let's go to my apartment," Alex said.

"Then you can tell me all about it," Gabe said in a reasonable tone.

*****

A/N: Sorry for the late update! My netbook refused to connect to a strange wifi at my conference!

Soooo, Morgan has returned. Things couldn't stay sweet and fluffy for long! Are you ready for him?

Dedicated to @AnastasiaThomas089 who has an amazing book in Red Eyed Killers

Shout out to @sufianaseem1 a new victim, ahem, writer, who wandered into the Dragon Editor's Lair asking for critiques

Many thanks to @EGTczarzenskawitz who is a fearless knight jousting the Dragon Editor's work!