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wincing as he pushed himself up to lean against the wall.
    The doctor made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat as Rosalind held the door open for him. His upset grew exponentially when he reached Cooper and saw the filthy makeshift bandage wrapped around his bicep.
    Taking the opportunity to duck out of the line of fire, the kid took the sacks he carried to the table and began to distribute food boxes as Rosalind went to Miller's cell and unlocked the door. I was at the bars in an instant, alarm skittering along my nerves.
    "Where are you taking him?" Cooper demanded before I could.
    "Stop moving," Dr. Barrett said as he carefully unwrapped Rosalind's torn off sleeve from Cooper's injury. "Individuals of an unconfirmed race must be tested. After that, they can be released."
    Rosalind waited patiently as the wounded practitioner eased off his cot and limped to meet her. When he reached the front, she took an iC out of her back pocket — not only the first one I'd seen since we escaped Charlotte, but also one of the newer, more accurate ones. Holding his arm out, she pressed the top of the device to the back of his hand.  
    About the size of a pack of cards, the most recent models did the work of a phone, species scanner, medical scanner, and a computer. I'd heard the company that made them was even considering renaming them to iComplete or something dumb and market-y like that.  
    Before I'd started consulting with the FBI, I'd used one of the older scanners, the clunky kind Falcon loved to tinker with. Cooper had given me an upgrade, a model under the one Rosalind was using. I'd gotten pretty attached to the sleek, fast tech, but in the end had been forced to shoot it. When the FBI comes after you for answers, you don't want to carry around a potential tracking device.  
    Ah, the good old days. When I knew where all the escape hatches were.
    Rosalind watched the screen on the iC turn purple, verifying Miller as a practitioner. Her shoulders relaxed and to my shock, she gifted him with a nod of her head, almost a bow. "Bone Clan apologizes for our lack of hospitality, Practitioner Miller. The scanner was unavailable and new protocol dictates—"
    "Not a problem, Captain," Miller said.
    She nodded again, apparently appreciative of his graciousness. Her pleased look changed as she turned and crossed to my cell. Reluctantly, she unlocked my door. Smart woman.
    I stepped out and Rosalind repeated the test as I focused on breathing slow and steady like I had nothing to hide. Usually, my completely weird DNA was too much for the poor things to handle, but this unit was new. Was it more sensitive? Could it pick out the variations in my bloodline or would it land on the most dominant, which now might be Were?
    Rosalind frowned at me, but cleared the iC before I could see what it was doing. She pressed it to the back of my hand again and I watched the readout, willing it to revert to human in utter confusion like iCs usually did. If it discerned my mixed heritage, I was screwed considering that offspring of Weres and practitioners were not only rare, but still considered illegal by most paranormal groups.
    The iC stuttered around, flickering through yellow, blue and purple like a color wheel on speed. "Looks like whoever had it last got it wet," I offered, glad I could keep my voice steady. One of the better habits left over from my misspent youth — that of covering my ass with conviction.
    The device gave a final, frustrated blip and settled on yellow for human. I felt like I'd dodged a bullet.
    Rosalind reset the thing and tried again. This time the iC wanted no part of the mess I presented and went straight to yellow, bless it. Finally satisfied, she gave me the same formal nod that she'd given Miller, though without the warmth in it. "Bone Clan apologizes for our lack of hospitality," she said through clenched teeth.
    I grinned, enjoying her discomfort. "Apology accepted." I patted Rosalind's cheek as I shoved past