Page 26 of The Witch's Heart
“It’s a trick,” I say in a hard voice. “Meant to mess with me.”
“Celeste, it’s clear there is more going on here than simply your grief over losing your sister.”
Rage courses through me, burning me from the inside.
“Yes, manipulation for one,” I say. “Whatever game you’re playing with me, it won’t work. I’m not crazy. And I’m certainly not a witch. This is such bullshit.”
“Who told you you’re a witch?” he asks, and something about the sharpness in his words has me treading carefully.
I hesitate.
Behind the doctor, a nearly transparent figure flickers against the curtain.
Estelle puts her finger to her lips and shushes me, then vanishes.
I look back at the doctor and paste on a sweet smile. If they’re going to play games with me, I’ll play them right back.
“You did, Doctor. Don’t you remember?”
He frowns.
Before he can contradict me, I yawn widely and stretch my hands over my head. “If Sir is going to punish me, I’d like to get it over with. The food has made me very tired.”
“We don’t punish our patients,” he says.
“Of course. You’ll probably call it teaching me a lesson.”
I yawn again. This time for real.
My lids droop, and I realize too late that while the food wasn’t poisoned, it was probably laced with some kind of drug meant to manage any outbursts I might have when I saw the doctor alive.
“We can talk again after you’ve had a chance to rest.”
Through the haze of exhaustion, I am very aware of the doctor’s arms around me as he carries me out of the curtained room and down the hall. At the door leading downstairs, I’m handed off, and Nurse Schmidt’s angry scowl swims into view. Her grip isn’t nearly as gentle as his.
They exchange a few terse words, and then the doctor is gone.
Nurse Schmidt shoves through the door leading to the stairwell, and the moment we’re alone, she dumps me unceremoniously onto the floor.
I grunt, coming awake suddenly as I hit the ground with a painful thud.
“I don’t carry. You walk or you crawl. Your choice,” she says.
I groan, climb to my feet, and shuffle down the stairs with Nurse Evil looming behind me.
As we near my cell, I’m careful not to look over at the twins, but their presence in the shadowy cell across from my own is unmistakable and offers a comfort I didn’t expect.
“Sleep while you can,” Schmidt says ominously and then stalks away.
The moment she’s gone, I hurry to the bars separating us and search for the twins. They both step forward wearing matching expressions of worry and fear.
“What happened?” Dean asks.
“Did they hurt you?” Declan adds.
I shake my head. “I passed out from hunger,” I explain. “When I woke up, I was in a clinic of some kind. Dr. Livingstone was there. He brought me food and—”
I stop, unsure how to ask them what I want to know. Or maybe I’m worried about the answer.
