For the first time, he looks down from above. His eyes are cold and distant as they meet mine.
"Careful now. Wouldn't want to aggravate your condition." His mouth curves into what might technically qualify as a smile, but contains no warmth. "You're quite valuable, you know."
A strange looms ahead, different from the others—heavier, with some kind of electronic panel beside it. The nurse—or whoever he is—pulls a keycard from his pocket and swipes it.
The lock disengages with an ominous click, and that's it. I'm convinced. I'm being kidnapped. There's no radiologydepartment. This nurse is out to kill me and bury my body in a ditch somewhere.
"Help!" I shout, the word tearing at my throat. "Somebody help me!"
His hand clamps over my mouth, fingers digging into my cheeks. "Nobody can hear you down here. Don't make this difficult."
See? Kidnapper.
I should have reacted so much sooner.
I bite down hard on his palm. At least I have enough strength for this much. He jerks his hand back with a curse, and I scream again, louder. My hands scrabble at the rail of the bed, trying to yank my heavy body up.
Move, move,move, you worthless sack of flesh and bone!
He recovers quickly, producing something from his pocket—a syringe, the needle gleaming under the harsh lights.
"I didn't want to do this yet, but you're not giving me much choice."
I thrash wildly, kicking at the blankets, but my movements are uncoordinated, my body still weak. He grabs my arm with unsurprising strength, pinning it against the mattress as I flail.
The cold sting of the needle bites into my skin. The moment the drug hits, my vision starts to go hazy.
"Wha..." My tongue feels thick, uncooperative. "What did you..."
"Shh." He's back to not looking at me, his attention fixed on pushing the bed through the doorway. "Just relax. We aren't going to hurt you."
Damn it. Who the hell would be after someone like me? Lyre's quip about Caine being kidnapped by the local pack runs through my head, sending a chill down my spine. She should be back soon, right? She'll find me… or Caine will.
Chapter twelve
Caine: Strange Magic
CAINE
To the unobservant eye, the house is just as Elizabeth says. Her home.
But it doesn't take much effort to scratch at the lie.
Devoid of personal effects, lacking the clutter everyone's living space acquired. Every piece of silverware is accounted for. There are no scratches on any of the cookware. Even the closets are eerily empty.
The cleaning supplies located under the kitchen sink are all brand new. There's no bag in the trash can, and the box of replacements is unopened.
No vacuum. No broom.
Everything you'd consider a daily necessity of life is missing. There are extra sheets in the linen closet and a small stack of towels, as if this is a guest house, not a home.
The fading light casts long shadows across the room. Fenris's hackles raise from his position by the door. He's been tense since we arrived.
Me, too.
My phone vibrates against my thigh. Another message.
The screen illuminates with a photo—Grace, pale and vulnerable against hospital sheets. Her blonde hair fans across the pillow, eyes closed, chest rising in shallow breaths. The rainbow-haired nuisance sits nearby, book in hand, watching over what's mine.
