“I’m sorry if that hurt. I just wanted to check...”
“What, Caim?”
“It was a ridiculous idea.” A tense beat passed. “I wanted to check if your wound had healed on its own.”
“Well, why on earth would that have happened?”
His eyes darkened. “Do you know whose blood turns black in the moonlight, Eva?”
My heart banged against my aching ribs. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like the answer to that question. “No, I can’t say that I do.”
“Mine,” he ground out, stalking toward me once more. Shadows whorled through his ever-darkening eyes. “Demons. Supernaturals who are bound to Hell.”
Terror shook through me, weakening my knees. If I’d been standing, I would have tumbled to the ground. When I finally found the ability to speak, my words came out as a whisper. “Demons have black blood.”
“That’s right. In the moonlight.” He shook his head, and the darkness suddenly cleared. “But demons also heal themselves. If that spell somehow backfired onto you...transforming you into one of us, that wound would be nothing more than a faint scar by now. And your illness...it would be gone, Eva.”
I flinched and peeled the collar of my cotton shirt away from my skin to peer down at the ever-present scar zig-zagging down my chest. It was as red and as raw as it had been since the day I’d woken up to hear my mom was gone.
Dr. Wilkes had always insisted my fresh, angry scar was due to stress and grief, but the inflammation had never died down, even after all these years. And I still had it today.
“Well, I haven’t healed,” I said bitterly as I released the grip on my shirt. “My body is still as broken as ever.”
“You’re not broken,” he said in a determined voice that made my heart ache. If only that were true.
“Okay, well. I’ve told you my part. Your turn.”
Running a hand down his face, he nodded and began to pace again. He filled me in on the missing chunks in my memory. Strangely enough, he’d been under the impression the cult had messed with my mind, which would explain why I couldn’t remember anything. But it didn’t explain why I was finenow. That kind of spell wasn’t temporary, apparently. The only way to undo it was with a little black memory box.
“Could Dr. Wilkes have one of those boxes?” Caim suddenly asked. “Maybe he realized what happened to you, and he restored your memories during your treatment.”
My lips twitched. “Dr. Wilkes doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world.”
Caim opened his mouth to presumably argue, but the door cracked open before he could voice his thoughts. Dr. Wilkes breezed in, his curly blonde hair highlighted by the overhead bulbs. His gaze swept across Caim, curiosity and wariness clearly dampening his smile. He tugged on his white coat.
“Hello again, Caim. Eva is in good hands here. You should really go home and get some sleep.”
I twisted toward Caim. “Haven’t you been home since bringing me here?”
“He hasn’t left your side for one moment,” Dr. Wilkes answered for him. “You have quite the loyal boyfriend here.”
“Oh.” I flushed, though I didn’t correct him. Caim and I were barely dating, let alone official. Still, Caim didn’t correct him either.
“There are some private matters I need to discuss with Eva,” Dr. Wilkes said, turning to Caim. “About her illness and treatment.”
Caim shifted on his feet and turned to me for confirmation.
“I...” Only a few people knew the full details of my illness. I’d told Caim the basics, but that was a far cry from the gritty reality of my life. The daily grind. The worries that constantly followed me every step I took. “Caim can stay.”
“Very well.” Dr. Wilkes sighed and rustled the papers on his clipboard. “The inflammation in your ribs has changed from the last time I saw you.”
“Yes, I can tell,” I said through gritted teeth. “It hurts like hell.”
He nodded and peered down his nose at the paper. “On a scale of one to ten, where would you put today’s pain?”
“Maybe a seven.” For me, that was pretty high. I’d become so used to the pain that anything over a five meant I could barely function without focusing on it. If I ever hit a ten, I’d probably pass out. Maybe I had. It might explain my memory loss issues. I could have blocked the whole episode out of my mind, clearly for self-preservation. I’d done that kind of thing before, but it had been a long time since my bones had been that angry.
Dr. Wilkes frowned. And he rarely frowned. My heart skipped a beat. I glanced up at Caim and concern etched into the furrow of his brow, the downturn of his lips.
