werewolves,” I said, trying to keep my voice level as I forced myself to meet her cold blue eyes, “and all I’ve ever had were cuts and bruises.”
Sinclair regarded me for a moment before seeming to accept the explanation. “I’m happy to hear that. Too much time spent among other wolves on the outside can make adjusting to a program like Thornhill’s more difficult.” I tensed as she reached into a drawer, but she only pulled out a container of aloe vera wipes. “For your face,” she said, not unkindly, as she set them on the corner of her desk next to a container of hand lotion.
Hesitantly, I took a wipe from the package and passed it over my forehead. The white cloth came back tinged with Kyle’s blood. Feeling slightly sick, I balled it in my hand.
“Blood bothers you?”
“Not because I’m a werewolf,” I said quickly. “I’ve just always found it gross.” My eyes returned to the painting behind the desk.
Sinclair glanced over her shoulder. “Pandora’s box,” she said, turning back to me. “I’ve always seen parallels between that particular myth and lupine syndrome. Some people see the disease as a gift without realizing how dangerous it is to lift the lid.”
I swallowed. “And that’s what Thornhill is? A way to help us keep the lid on?”
“For the wolves who commit fully to the idea of rehabilitation, yes.”
With her dark skin and shoulder-length curls, the woman in the painting looked a little like Serena.
It gave me courage.
“I have another friend,” I said, taking a plunge, “she was held back during admissions, but no one will tell me where she is or what’s going on.”
Sinclair plucked a file from atop a stack of papers. She opened the folder and glanced down. “Serena?”
I nodded even though she wasn’t looking at me. “Yes,” I managed, heart in throat.
Sinclair glanced up. “There were a few abnormalities in her blood. We want to make sure she isn’t sick before putting her in with the general population.”
“Sick?” I thought about the girl with the IV. Feeling like the ground was crumbling beneath me, I said, “How could she be sick? There’s no way she has bloodlust.”
Sinclair folded her hands on the desk, and I caught sight of a silver and garnet ring on her right index finger. Amy’s mother had a ring like that, one with a garnet for Amy and a sapphire for her brother. A birthstone ring.
“Mackenzie, LS is a new disease. We barely understand how it works. We’ve recently found a virus—similar to the canine parvovirus, which affects dogs—in some cities where large numbers of werewolves tend to congregate. We believe Serena may have contracted it.”
Sinclair stood and walked around the desk. She placed a hand on my shoulder and the scent of lavender wafted up from her skin. Her touch was heavy and stiff. When I glanced up, I spotted an HFD in her other hand. Trusting, but not that trusting.
“She may be fine. It’s too early to tell.”
“Can I see her?”
“We have to hold her in isolation for now.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. If there’s this other virus out there, why haven’t any of us heard about it? If there’s a disease, why don’t the other wolves talk about it when . . .” I trailed off and cursed myself. Fear for Serena had made me say too much.
“When wolves are held during admissions or removed from the dorms? When a few wolves start spouting conspiracy theories about disappearances?” Sinclair lifted her hand from my shoulder and stepped back. She perched on the edge of the desk. “Mackenzie, Thornhill is my first post as warden, but I’ve worked at three other camps. Each place is the same. Anytime anything happens to a wolf, conspiracy rumors swirl.”
She crossed her arms. “As to why the disease hasn’t been made public, I suspect the LSRB is waiting until they have enough information to assure the reg population that they’re not at any risk from this new condition. No one wants a return to the riots we had when lupine syndrome was first announced.”
But wouldn’t the packs have noticed people getting sick?
Sinclair picked up on my uncertainty.
“The LSRB aren’t evil, Mackenzie. We’re not bogeymen. I applied for a job at the camps right after college. Do you know why?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Because I wanted to help people. Infected people.”
A short, skeptical noise escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“It’s true.” Something passed underneath Sinclair’s perfect facade, something that was sad and a little messy and maybe slightly damaged. Something that was full of regret. It was a look I sometimes saw in the mirror after I had been dreaming of Amy. “My sister was infected. I joined the LSRB because I wanted to make things better for people like her. After I saw how horrible the other camps were, I lobbied for Thornhill. I wanted to create a place that was more than just a dumping ground where the infected were left to die.” She paused for a long moment. “No one chooses infection.”
I swallowed. “Your sister is in a camp?”
“No. Julie died when I was seventeen.” Sinclair twisted the garnet around her finger, and I wondered if the ring had belonged to her sister.
“I’m sorry.” The words weren’t a lie, but they weren’t quite genuine: I wanted to feel sorry for her, but I didn’t trust her. She was the person keeping us here. For all I knew, everything she had just said was a lie. “Why tell me?” I asked hesitantly, trying to figure her out. “The disease? Your sister? Any of it?”
“Because I want the wolves in Thornhill to understand that I have their best interests at heart. I don’t want what I’m trying to accomplish here being undermined by fear and rumors.” She leaned forward. “I receive daily reports on the self-control class. Do you have any idea how remarkable what you did yesterday was?”
A lump rose in my throat. “I didn’t do anything.”
It was like I hadn’t spoken.
“Part of the reason we restrict shifting to a single area is that, over time, people associate the pain and rush they experience with that environment. It eventually becomes harder to shift in other places and helps improve control. If you repeated the same exercise your class underwent yesterday in two months, fewer people would transform. In six months, almost none of them would.” She gave her words a moment to sink in. “For a wolf to resist shifting on the first day is rare. You’re already ahead of the curve when it comes to control. You can be an example to your peers.”
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I didn’t want to be an example; I wanted to be invisible.
A sharp crackle emanated from the phone. I breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption as Sinclair reached behind her and pressed a button.
“Warden? There’s been a code twelve. He’s in the building, but he’s panicking.”
Sinclair inhaled sharply. “I’ll be right there. Tell them not to agitate him.” She stood and quickly retrieved a pair of heels from underneath the desk.
I started to rise.
“Stay here.” She shoved her feet into her shoes. “I’ll be back in a minute.” The warden I had glimpsed flashes of over the past few minutes—the one who seemed sympathetic and concerned—had been replaced by the woman I had seen at orientation.
She crossed the room. The door closed behind her and there was an electronic beep as the lock engaged.
Silence.
I counted to ten and then darted for the phone. I punched in Jason’s cell number. There was a click and then an automated voice told me to enter my phone code.
My vision swam and my ears filled with a faint buzzing sound as a wave of frustration rose up. I started to slam the handset down before checking myself at the last instant. With a deep breath, I slowly set it into the
