What the Healer Knows

Chapter 6

Sable's fingers pressed against my wrist, counting.

Then stopped.

“Is something wrong?”

She smiled, quick and practiced.

“Just being thorough.”

Her hands moved to the monitor beside the examination table. She adjusted a dial I didn't recognize.

“First full workup since your arrival. Standard procedure.”

“This doesn't feel standard.”

I nodded toward the machine.

“I've been to doctors before, Sable. Nobody's ever hooked me up to something with this many wires for a checkup.”

“Blackthorn has higher standards than most clinics.”

“Or you're looking for something specific.”

She didn't answer.

She simply reached for another instrument, calm as still water.

I decided to let it go.

For now.

“How long have you worked for Roman?”

“Long enough.”

“That's not an answer.”

“It's the one you're getting.”

There was something almost warm underneath her words, like she didn't dislike me.

She just wasn't going to hand me anything easily.

“Ten years,” she added. “Since before he took the title.”

“So you knew him before he became…”

I gestured vaguely.

“This.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“I knew him before a lot of things.”

Her jaw tightened.

Just slightly.

I filed that away.

She turned back to the monitor.

Then went completely still.

“Sable?”

She didn't answer.

Her eyes were fixed on the screen.

For the first time since I'd walked into the room, her composure cracked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

She reached for the controls.

Too quickly.

The display changed.

She recalibrated something and ran the test again.

I watched the numbers climb.

Then spike.

Sable's face lost what little color it had.

“Sable.”

She hit a button.

The screen went black.

“What did that say?”

“Equipment malfunction.”

Her voice had changed.

Thin.

Careful.

“I'll have it serviced.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

She looked down as if she hadn't realized.

Then folded them neatly in her lap.

“It's cold in here.”

I stared at her.

“It's not cold in here.”

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she met my eyes.

“Mira.”

There was something in her expression now that hadn't been there before.

Something I couldn't name.

“I need to draw blood.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to confirm the reading.”

“Confirm what reading?”

She looked away.

“Can you roll up your sleeve?”

I did.

Mostly because I didn't know what else to do.

And partly because some part of me still wanted to believe her.

The needle barely pinched.

Sable worked quickly, filling the vial before removing it and pressing gauze against my arm.

She labeled the sample.

Then set it on the counter.

I thought that was the end of it.

It wasn't.

She picked the vial back up almost immediately.

Held it toward the light.

Her expression changed.

“What?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“You're staring at my blood like it just insulted you.”

That almost earned a real smile.

Almost.

“It’s unusual.”

“How?”

“I don't have an answer yet.”

She placed the vial into a rack.

Then covered it with a cloth.

Deliberately.

Like she didn't want me looking at it anymore.

“When I do,” she said, “you'll be the first to know.”

“Will I?”

I didn't bother hiding the doubt in my voice.

She didn't answer.

Again.

I was reaching for my jacket when she spoke.

Almost too casually.

“Has anyone in your family ever talked about old blood?”

My hand stopped.

“Old blood?”

Sable's eyes flicked toward me.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You just asked me about it.”

“It was irrelevant.”

“No.”

Her expression tightened.

“It wasn't.”

I stared at her.

“What does old blood mean, Sable?”

She looked toward the covered vial.

Then back at me.

“I shouldn't have asked.”

“That isn't an answer.”

“No.”

Her voice softened.

“It isn't.”

She turned away and opened a drawer.

“What did you find?”

“Mira”

“What did you find in my blood?”

“I need more tests.”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“Because I don't have an answer yet.”

“Or because you have one you're not allowed to give me?”

She went still.

That tiny pause told me more than an answer could have.

Finally, she closed the drawer.

“Same time next week.”

“Sable”

“Next week, Mira.”

I left because there wasn't anything else to do.

Pushing harder never seemed to get me anywhere in this house.

It hadn't with Greta.

It hadn't with the guard.

It hadn't with Roman.

I was beginning to wonder if that was exactly what everyone here counted on.

I was halfway down the corridor when I heard Sable's voice.

Low.

Urgent.

Coming from behind a door left open only a crack.

I stopped without deciding to.

“can't wait until morning.”

A pause.

Like she was listening to someone on the other end.

“I understand it's late.”

Another pause.

“I need to see the Alpha tonight.”

My stomach tightened.

Alpha.

Roman.

I moved closer before I could stop myself.

“It's about the surrogate,” Sable said.

My breath caught.

She lowered her voice.

“He needs to know before”

Silence.

I couldn't hear the rest.

I stood frozen in the corridor.

My own blood suddenly felt like something that didn't completely belong to me anymore.

Sable had looked at my results and decided Roman needed to hear about them before I did.

Whatever she'd found, it wasn't a routine medical concern.

It was something important enough to wake the Alpha in the middle of the night.

And somehow, I was the last person in this house who was supposed to know.

I stepped away from the door before she could see me.

But one thought followed me down the corridor.

What had Sable found in my blood?