MARY'S POV: We opened our doors, stepped out into the cold air, and walked toward the entrance side by side without touching. The hospital lobby was big, bright, and smelled strongly of disinfectant, harsh floor wax, and cold air. A couple of nurses in blue scrubs walked quickly down the main corridor, their soft shoes making faint squeaking sounds on the polished floor. A middle-aged woman sat behind the tall reception desk, her hands typing away on a keyboard while a small computer screen lit up her face. Up above us, the long fluorescent light tubes buzzed with a low, constant hum that made my head ache. Alistair walked up to the counter first. "Hello. I am here to see my mother. Her name is Beatrice Vane." The receptionist looked up from her screen, her expression polite but completely blank. She typed a few quick strokes into her system, her eyes skimming down a list on the display. "She is in Room 412. Take the main elevator bank to the fourth floor, step out, and make a
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