Page 76 of The Turning of the Tables

“Hi,” I repeated, my eyes feeling heavy.

“Is he your… brother?” Wyatt the nurse asked Noah.

“Yeah,” Noah replied.

“What species?” Wyatt asked, then.

“Wolf,” Noah replied. “Why?”

“Transformations and Arcane abilities run in families,”the nurse replied. “So we’re going to want to keep him in a more secure room, just in case that’s true here, as well.”

I watched Noah swallow, his blue eyes wide and worried.

My knee chose that moment to throb with pain, and I rubbed at it, then frowned down at my hand, which had immediately cramped up upon rubbing my knee.

“Does your knee hurt?” Wyatt asked me, his voice tight.

“Yeah. Always does,” I replied, still frowning at my hand. “Hand doesn’t, though.” Then I winced as my other hand twinged.

“Okay, let’s go,” Wyatt said, his voice having taken on a sharper edge. “We’ll deal with the paperwork later.”

“Can I come with you?” Noah asked, but my new nurse shook his head sharply.

“Sorry, but no.” He was already backing me toward the automatic glass doors. “You remember,” he said softly, and I watched the blood drain from Noah’s face.

“Remember what?” I asked Wyatt as we left Noah behind.

“Shifting,” he replied, his voice both gentle and pitying.

Fear sliced through me, hot and sharp.

Or maybe that was just the pain.

Everything was wrong.

Too loud.

Shrieks and cries and the scrabbling of nails.

My eyes didn’t work right.

My hands were useless.

I couldn’t stand.

Or sit.

Or even lie down.

I could smell cement.

Urine.

Shit.

Blood.

Vomit.