Page 5 of Freed Wolfsbane

Her cold blue eyes lock on me. “If you’ll follow me, we need to run tests on you before we proceed to the next phase of your stay here.” She points one perfectly manicured hand at a door tucked next to the whiteboard.

I stand up from my chair and place it between her and me. “I’d rather not.”

In fact, I’d rather do just about anything else, like hug a porcupine, get bitten by a black mamba, or take a toaster bath.

Maybe if I ask nicely, the Knights will just let me go.

I nod to myself because that sounds like a fantastic plan.

The woman apparently doesn’t agree with me. She gives me a patronizing grin. “I wasn’t asking, mutt.” She whips out a baton with electricity crackling at the end. “This is your last chance to come willingly.”

Rude.

I’m not a mutt. I’m a hybrid. There’s clearly a difference—not that they know about the whole hybrid thing.

As much as I want to fight her, it won’t accomplish anything. I highly doubt she’s the only Knight here. With how weak I’m feeling, I don’t even know if I could take on the woman, much less however many armed guards are within shouting distance.

If I’m going to escape, and I will because I refuse to die here and let the Knights win, then I have to be smart about it. I need to know the lay of the land, observe guard movements, and formulate a well-thought-out plan.

I sigh and hang my head. Reluctantly, I walk to the door, and she follows me. When the woman comes to a stop behind me, the door swings into the room beyond. Peering curiously inside, I see the same white tiles and drab cinder block walls that make up the rest of the place. The only thing in the room is a light gray exam table, which the woman points me toward, and a row of cabinets with a sink.

With my steps dragging, I head over to the paper-covered table, which crinkles as I hop up. I swing my gray grippy-sock-clad feet back and forth as I wait for the woman to do something. Instead of coming into the room, she stays outside and shuts the door behind me.

Great.

Another room to be left in for forty-five minutes. If they’re trying to kill me with boredom, they’re doing an awesome job at it.

A few minutes pass, and I’m contemplating lying back on the exam table to take a nap when a different door than the one I came in squeaks as it opens. A man in a white doctor’s coat shuffles inside with a friendly smile pasted on his face. It doesn’t reach his flinty brown eyes hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses, though.

“Hello!” the man in his forties booms as he washes his hands and snaps on a pair of blue disposable gloves. “How are we today?”

I stare at him incredulously. “Great, other than the whole getting kidnapped thing.”

The doctor ignores my obvious sarcasm as he brushes curly brown hair off his forehead. “That’s fantastic to hear. Now, I’m just going to do a general exam and make sure you’re in good health. We can’t have you spreading infections to my other patients, now can we?”

I’m not really sure I want the answer, but I’m too curious. “What happens if I do?”

“If there’s an outbreak, then we’ll have to put down all of the existing specimens. It’s unfortunate but necessary. An outbreak is too costly to try to treat, so it’s best to prevent that from happening.” The doctor’s voice is bland as he drops that tidbit about the Knights.

My mouth hangs open in shock at the doctor just casually discussing killing however many supernaturals they have here like it’s an inconvenience. “How many times have there been outbreaks here?”

“Oh, it’s only happened a dozen or so times,” he says, as if trying to reassure me. “Now, open wide.”

His words only make my blood boil as I think about how many shifters, mages, and others have been killed here instead of treated with simple antibiotics. Even without antibiotics, most supernaturals’ immune systems will take care of infections within a week.

I want to scream at the senseless loss of life, but I don’t. Instead, I keep my mouth as closed as I can and mumble, “No thanks.”

The doctor shakes his head at me like I’m a misbehaving child. He then reaches up and pinches my arm hard enough that I gasp in pain. When my lips part, he shoves a tongue depressor into my mouth. I try not to choke on the flat wooden stick as he forces my jaw open to peer down my throat.

When he’s finished with his inspection, the doctor steps back and tsks at me. “This will only be as hard as you make it on yourself. Cooperate and save yourself unnecessary pain.”

Or, here’s a thought, he could respect my bodily autonomy and not hurt me when I refuse to let him inspect me.

Clenching my jaw because I know saying anything will only cause problems for me, I just glare at him silently. Seeming oblivious to the anger bubbling in my chest, the doctor inspects my ears and nose before taking my temperature. Once he’s finished with his exam, he snaps off his gloves and washes his hands.

He comes back over to me and pats me on the knee. I struggle not to flinch away from his touch, knowing how quick he is to kill people like me. “You’re in perfect health. If you start feeling under the weather, make sure to tell a guard. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for an outbreak, now would you?”

I mutely shake my head. The doctor flashes me a smile before striding out of the room without another word.

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