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Dr.
    Woodrow’s perfect teeth glowed like they were lit up from inside. “There are some tests we need to run.”
    “Really?” Nina pressed her hand against a cramp in her belly.
    “Did you discuss them with Dr. Tully? She gave me the impression that we’d covered everything.”
    The two doctors exchanged speaking glances. “Well, about that,” the male doctor said. “There’s a lot of talk, about your case. Everyone has strong opinions about it.”
    “Dr. Woodrow and I feel that the tests that Dr. Tully ordered left out a few important possibities that need to be ruled out,”
    the blond doctor said. “There’s no time to lose.”
    “Ah. Well.” The pain intensified, getting bigger, wider. “The thing is, I don’t want for the right hand not to know what the left is doing.” She forced the words out with difficulty. “Since Dr.
    Tully is handling my care, I’d rather you discuss it with her.
    Preferably with me present.”
    Dr. Granger’s eyes flicked to his colleague. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I admit, this is irregular, but, well . . . there’s no way to put this delicately. I’ve worked with Dr. Tully for years.
    She’s a capable doctor, but strictly by-the-book. Even, well, plod-ding. Though I hate to critizice a colleague. A situation like yours, with so much at stake, calls for outside-the-box thinking.
    Are you going to risk your health, maybe your life, out of politeness?”
    Nina gasped for breath as the pain squeezed harder. “I—I, ah—”
    “If the tests we run help, Dr. Tully will probably think she ordered them herself,” Dr. Granger said. “If they do not, I will accept all the blame for any improper professional behavior. Your life and your future is worth it to me, Ms. Christie. Is it worth it to you?”
    Cold sweat pooled on Nina’s forehead. The doctors’ puzzled faces swam in her vision. “I . . . I don’t feel well,” she squeaked.
    “I’m not surprised.” Dr. Woodrow took Nina’s hand. “Please, Ms. Christie. Come with us upstairs. We also want to know everything this woman who attacked you with the needle said to you. Every single word. We want to help you. Help us help you.”
    Her hand felt so . . . cold. Even with the squeeze.
    Like a corpse.
    The thought flitted through Nina’s head. Her head swam.
    The room spun. Her blood pressure plummeted. Her stomach flopped. . . .
    “Excuse me.” She lunged for the connecting bathroom, got there just in time. There wasn’t much inside her, just coffee, but it went on and on. The blond doctor sidled in, making sympathetic sounds. She stroked wisps off Nina’s sweaty forehead, and patted her back.
    Her hand was cold, even through the layers of Nina’s blouse and her loose over-dress, as if it were sucking out Nina’s vital warmth.
    “These new symptoms are all the more reason to move fast.”
    The doctor dampened a paper towel in the sink and passed it to Nina.
    Nina straightened, mopping her face. Her stomach still twitched, though there was nothing left to toss. She pressed the towel against hot eyes, and tightened her belly against that free-falling feeling.
    Was it a panic attack? The drug Aunt Helga had attacked her with, finally taking hold? Oh, God. She was so scared. She did not want to die. Yes, she’d go to that lab, and do more tests. Hell, yes. She’d do anything. She needed all the help she could get.
    She let the towel drop, looked in the mirror, into her pallid face, her red, blinking eyes—
    A corpse stood behind her. A skull, with rotting flesh and peeling skin. The hand on Nina’s shoulder was a skeletal claw.
    She flinched away with a shriek, cowering back in the corner—
    And Dr. Woodrow was abruptly normal again. Her beautiful face was fresh, pink, and blooming; her blue eyes were soft with concern.
    “Ms. Christie?” she asked. “Are you all right?”
    “I . . . but you . . .” She panted, gulped. “I must have had . . . a hallucination. I thought I saw . . .” She