Page 28 of Crimson Moon Falling

I traced the scar along the back of my neck. “The energy coming off the implant this morning seemed less analytical and a little more agitated. I don’t know how to explain it. This isn’t the first time I’ve sensed something other than emotional suppression or data analysis coming from the thing.”

Did it sense I wanted it gone? And did it understand another specialist was going to look at it?

He stared at me. “Can you try to keep track of what’s happening, and what you’re thinking or doing when you feel the fluctuations?”

“Yes. I know I sound a little crazy–”

“You don’t. And don’t feel obligated to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable. We don’t know much about Dr. Wharton beyond that she’s an expert in paranormal neurophysiology, specializing in cognizant biology, and a contracted medical professional with the FBCI. Likely because they didn’t give her a choice.”

Jamie picked us up from the airport. “Hey, Sparky. I’m sorry to hear about your witch friend.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder when I stepped off the plane.

His upbeat energy wrapped around me, and I leaned into him for a moment before having to step away. “Me too. I only met her a couple of times, but she knew my father.” I tried to sort through my feelings. “She said she’d try to help me with the implant. Why is it that good people always seem to be the ones who die?”

We climbed into the Pack SUV, and Conall turned to Jamie. “The clinic is in Cherry Creek. It specializes in supernatural medical care.”

Jamie drove through increasingly upscale neighborhoods until we arrived at an underground parking garage beneath a striking modern glass-and-stone building.

I stared up at it. “This doesn’t look like a clinic.”

Jamie smirked. “That’s the point. It’s designed to look like a high-end spa and wellness center. They also do a shit-ton of cosmetic surgery here. This is where powerful and rich supernaturals around here come for little touch-ups.”

An attractive receptionist in a blue silk wraparound dress escorted us up a private elevator, and we stepped into the reception area, the air carrying subtle notes of orange blossom.

As I signed in, I cataloged the layout and exits. Conall scanned the area, probably reviewing contingency exits too. I hoped this examination would provide some answers.

Agent Mercer stood in the waiting room, her distinctive red hair pulled back into a low ponytail. “Thank you for coming. When you get done with your exam, I have some questions for you.”

Jamie took the seat next to the wary agent even though there were other seats open, and gave us a toothy grin. “I’ll keep her company.”

An assistant led us to an examination room that was more like a luxury hotel suite. The room’s energy held some low-key anxiety, but nothing indicating torture had taken place here. It was a low bar, but I’d take it.

A minute later, someone knocked on the door and stepped into the room. A rounded, middle-aged woman in a lab coat entered, her energy signature humming with intelligence and sharp drive.

“Alpha Segerson, Agent Blackthorne.” Her gaze openly assessed me. “I’m Dr. Wharton. I’ve been reviewing your file.”

“I wasn’t aware I had a file.”

A smile ghosted across her lips. “Of course you have a file. Someone with your unique background, and an Alpha’s Mate.” She gestured toward the chairs in a small sitting area. “Please, let’s talk before we begin the examination.”

Conall positioned himself between Dr. Wharton and me, his protectiveness leaking through our bond.

“I understand you were detained at the facility in Roswell, where you were subjected to experimentation.” She leaned forward. “I assure you that today’s examination will be nothing like that experience. Alpha Segerson can remain with you throughout the exam if you wish.”

Conall was definitely staying. “What exactly will this examination entail?”

“We’ll conduct a standard physical, blood work, and a series of neurological tests. I’m particularly interested in the implant and chip that was placed along your cervical spine, and the symptoms you’ve been experiencing as a result.”

A wave of coldness sharpened my thoughts. “Who will have access to the results?”

“Agent Mercer, as your FBCI liaison, and a secured database accessible only to those with proper clearance. Your status as an Alpha Mate affords you protection.” That was her first lie.

“And my status as an ISB agent?”

Her eyes narrowed. “It complicates matters, but Pack law is your best defense.”

I studied her energy. She wasn’t outright lying, but she wasn’t telling the whole truth either. There was something beneath her professional demeanor—not malice or ill intent, but an intense scientific curiosity that felt almost hungry.

“Area Director Langston seemed to think otherwise,” I informed her.