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“How long have I been here?”

“Two days. This is your third day with us.”

I took a deep breath and tried not to panic. I’d lost two days. “Have there been any more murders?”

The smile wilted on his face, leaving his eyes even more serious than they had been. “You mean the mutilation murders?”

I nodded.

“No, no new bodies.”

I let out the breath. “Good.”

He was frowning now. “No more questions about your health? Just about the murders?”

“You said you don’t know why I almost died, or why I didn’t go ahead and die. I assume that means Leonora Evans saved me.”

He looked even more uncomfortable. “All I know is that once we allowed her to lay hands on you, your blood pressure started to go back up, your heart rhythm steadied out.” He shook his head. “I simply don’t know what happened, and if you knew how hard it is for a doctor, any doctor, to admit ignorance, you’d be much more impressed with me saying that.”

I smiled. “Actually, I’ve been in the hospital before. I appreciate you telling me the truth and not trying to claim credit for my miraculous recovery.”

“Miraculous is a good word for it.” He touched the one thin knife scar on my right forearm. “You have quite a collection of war injuries, Ms. Blake. I believe you have seen a lot of hospitals.”

“Yeah,” I said.

He shook his head. “You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?”

“Twenty-six,” I said.

“You look younger,” he said.

“It’s being short,” I said.

“No,” he said, “it isn’t. But still to have these kinds of scars at twenty-six is not a good sign, Ms. Blake. I did my residency in a very bad section of a very big city. We used to get a lot of gang members. If they lived to see twenty-six, their bodies looked like yours. Knife scars . . .” He leaned across the bed and raised the sleeve of the gown enough to touch the healed bullet wound on my upper arm. “. . . bullet wounds. We even had a shapeshifter gang, so I’ve seen the claw marks and bites, too.”

“You must have been in New York,” I said.

He blinked. “How did you know?”

“It’s illegal to purposefully give lycanthropy to a minor even with their permission, so the gang leaders were put under a death sentence. They sent in special forces along with New York’s finest to wipe them out.”

He nodded. “I left the city just before they did that. I’d treated a lot of those kids.” His eyes were distant with remembering. “We had two of them shapechange during treatment. Then they wouldn’t let them in the hospital anymore. If you wore their colors, you were left to die.”

“Most of them probably lived anyway, Doctor Cunningham. If the initial wound doesn’t kill them immediately, they probably aren’t going to die.”

“Are you trying to comfort me?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

He looked down at me. “Then I’ll tell you what I told all of them. Get out. Get out of this line of work or you will not live to see forty.”

“I was actually wondering if I was going to make it to thirty,” I said.

“Was that a joke?”

“I think so.”

“You know the old saying, half in jest, all in seriousness?” he asked.

“Can’t say I’ve heard that one.”

“Listen to yourself, Ms. Blake. Take it to heart and find something a little safer to be doing.”

“If I was a cop, you wouldn’t be saying this.”

“I have never treated a policeman that had this many scars. The closest I’ve ever seen outside the gangs was a marine.”

“Did you tell him to quit his job?”

“The war was over, Ms. Blake. Normal military duty just isn’t that dangerous.”

He looked at me, all serious. I looked back, blank-faced, giving him nothing. He sighed. “You’ll do what you want to do, and it’s none of my business anyway.” He turned and walked towards the door.

I called after him. “I do appreciate the concern, Doctor. Honestly, I do.”

He nodded, one hand on either side of his stethoscope like it was a towel. “You appreciate my concern, but you’re going to ignore my advice.”

“Actually, if I live through this case, I’m planning to take some time off. It’s not the injury rate, doctor. It’s the erosion of the ethics that’s beginning to get to me.