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"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."
He gently closed the door and walked toward her, syringe held fast in his hand. His smile had gone from chilling to menacing. Tavia's skin began to crawl, getting warm and tight. Her teeth ached, and she could feel her vision sharpening, narrowing in on him as if he were prey caught in her sights.
Dr. Lewis cocked his head and gave a soft cluck of his tongue. "Bad girl. Someone hasn't told the whole truth about where she's been or what she's been doing."
Tavia moved opposite him as he came around the foot of the bed. "The one who hasn't been telling the truth is you." As she spoke, she felt the scrape of her fangs against her tongue. "What the hell have you been giving me all these years? What have you done to me?"
"Tavia? Dr. Lewis?" Aunt Sarah's voice sounded on the other side of the closed door. "Is everything all right in there?"
"Aunt Sarah, stay out!" Tavia screamed. "Please don't come in!"
Her concern for her aunt was genuine, but there was a part of her that couldn't bear to let the older woman see her in this state. She didn't want to lose her aunt's love if she were to discover the girl she'd raised was, in fact, a monster.
"Tavia, what's going on - "
"It's not safe," she shouted. "Call for help, but don't come in. Dr. Lewis - "
"The girl has been compromised," he interrupted, speaking over her with unnerving calm. "The process has been activated."
The process? What the hell did that mean? Just what had Dr. Lewis been doing to her all these years? Tavia didn't get much chance to guess about it.
Dr. Lewis lunged for her. The long needle of the syringe started to come down toward her face in a swift, deadly arc. Tavia leapt out of its path, muscles and limbs moving in perfect concert, as effortless as breathing. One instant she was in front of her attacker, the next she was behind him, crouched and ready to spring.
No time to wonder if he realized he couldn't win against her. He came at her again, and she looked at him as though seeing him for the first time now. How had she missed the dull glint of his eyes before? Like a shark's eyes. Dead and cold. Soulless.
It was her new, clearer vision that let her see this, and she knew that her irises were amber bright by the faint glow that bathed Dr. Lewis's murderous face as he charged toward her, wielding his syringe like a weapon.
