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Floorboards creaked softly as the pair began to move through the house, farther inside, still careful to keep their voices low. They stood near the head of the hallway, if Tavia could trust her hearing.
"She was warm to the touch but not fevered. And flushed in the face. As for the rest, I noted nothing unusual."
"Nothing else?" Dr. Lewis grunted. "That in itself is unusual. Forty-eight hours without medical suppression of the condition should have produced some kind of marked reaction.
We've seen it in all the others."
All the others? Tavia held her breath as a jolt of alarm went through her, as cold as ice. What is he talking about? What others?
"She complained of being tired," Aunt Sarah added. "I sent her to take a shower and rest a while."
"Is she still asleep?"
"Yes. In her bedroom down the hall."
"Good," Dr. Lewis said. "I'll go in and have a quick look before we wake her to assess her for in-clinic treatment."
Every tendon and nerve ending in her body was firing off like small explosions inside her as the footsteps neared her closed bedroom door. Her senses were hyperacute now, skin tingling as though rained upon by thousands of tiny needles. She jumped as the knob twisted and Dr. Lewis appeared in the slowly widening wedge of space behind the door.
"Oh. Tavia, you're awake." He smiled, a faint curve of his mouth, which was partially hidden within the whiskers of his graying beard. "Your aunt told me you had gone to take a little nap. I hope I didn't disturb your sleep."
She was too uptight to bother with being polite. "What's wrong with me, Dr. Lewis?"
"Don't you worry. That's why I'm here," he said, stepping inside. He carried the big leather case that held his house-call medical supplies. Tavia had seen that bag of cold instruments and bitter medicines more often over the course of her lifetime than she cared to recall.
"No, no. Sit," he said when she started to get up from the bed. "No need to trouble yourself with a thing. It's all under control now. You'll see, I'm going to fix you right up."
Tavia eyed him warily. "Something's happening to me."
"I know," he said, nodding soberly. "But there's no cause for alarm, I assure you. I'm going to administer a small booster treatment that's going to make you feel good as new. Even better than a week at the spa. How does that sound?"
Tavia barely resisted the urge to tell him she'd never stepped foot in a spa. Things like that were off limits to her on account of her delicate physiology and her extensive skin issues - a fact he well knew, having been her sole care provider since she was an orphaned infant. He was trying to be light and humorous, but there was a flatness to his voice. A dull gravity to his gaze. It made her shudder a little, deep in her bones.
He came over to where she sat on the edge of the bed. "Lift your sleeve, if you would, please?" She hesitated, then complied, slowly inching up the long sleeve of her sweater. "Everything looks all right with your skin," he told her. "That's marvelous, Tavia. Very encouraging."
He ripped open a sterile alcohol packet and dabbed the cold pad over her bared biceps. "How many others have you treated like me, Dr. Lewis?"
He looked up, clearly startled. "Excuse me?"
"Are there a lot with my condition?" she asked. "Who are they? Where do they live?" He didn't answer. Crushing the used alcohol wipe and foil packet in his fist, he pivoted away and tossed it into the nearby trash bin.
"I thought I was the only one," she said, unsure why this revelation was making her breath come so rapidly, her pulse kicking with a note of apprehension. With dread for an answer she suddenly wasn't all that certain she wanted to hear. "Why didn't you tell me there were others?" He chuckled lightly. "Somebody's been listening through the door. You always did have an overly inquisitive mind, Tavia. From the time you were a child."
He busied himself in his medical bag now, his voice coy, mildly patronizing. And frankly, it was pissing her off. "How many, Dr. Lewis? Have any of them died from this ... illness I have?"
"Let's concentrate on making you better, okay? We can talk about everything once you're fully recovered."
"I don't feel sick."
"But you are, Tavia." He heaved a sigh as he withdrew several instruments from his bag. "You are a very sick young woman, and you were lucky this time. Next time, it might be another story."
Her instincts spiked toward alarm as she watched him fill a large syringe from a vial of clear liquid medicine he'd taken out of his case. He turned around then and came toward her with it, a chilling smile on his lips. "You'll feel a lot better in just a few moments."
Oh, hell no. Tavia flinched away, acting on pure survival impulse. She didn't know where it came from, nor did she know how she'd managed to move her body so quickly.
She was suddenly up and on the other side of her bed in the amount of time it took for the thought to form in her mind.
Dr. Lewis gaped. He cleared his throat, hardly missing a beat. "Now, let's not make this difficult, Tavia. I'm not here to hurt you. I only want to help."
