Page 16

16

TILDA

I give myself another day in the garden before finally heading to the clinic. Peaches insists on tagging along, practically bouncing at the chance to be nosy. Suyin meets us at the wooden door, ushering us inside with her usual no-nonsense efficiency.

The clinic surprises me. It’s a step up from what I expected—a compact but sophisticated space, complete with an early Convergence medical dock courtesy of the Heavenly Host: the kind of tech that could diagnose you in minutes, faster than any doctor ever could. It hums softly, the lights on its console blinking like it’s ready to get to work. It looks out–of-place in the otherwise folksy clinic, with its ancient cabinets and stone walls.

“Thanks for seeing me, doc,” I say, settling into the diagnostic chair. The cool metal frame hums faintly beneath me, the whole thing a little too high-tech for someone used to patching herself up with bandages and duct tape.

Suyin moves efficiently, strapping a blood pressure cuff around one arm, clipping a pulse oximeter onto my finger, and unceremoniously shoving a thermometer under my tongue. “This might sting,” she warns, already holding a needle in her hand.

“Wait, what—” The prick of the needle cuts me off, a quick jab in the crook of my arm.

I glance down as she collects a small vial of blood, watching the dark liquid fill the container. Honestly, after being shot a few times, needles barely register on my pain scale.

“That’s cute,” I mumble around the thermometer.

Suyin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t respond, her attention fixed on the medical dock as it comes to life. The machine hums softly, lights flickering across its screen, casting a faint glow in the dim clinic. It feels clinical, sterile—nothing like the rest of the den, where everything’s patched together with duct tape and ingenuity.

“You should know I’m not technically a doctor,” Suyin says, her voice calm but tinged with a hint of self-deprecation. She sets the blood sample aside and turns her focus back to the machine. “I only made it partway through vet school before…well, before.”

I raise an eyebrow, but the thermometer muffles my attempt at sarcasm. Suyin either doesn’t notice or pretends not to.

The dock hums louder, running its scans. “Don’t worry,” she adds, glancing briefly in my direction. “I’ve kept everyone alive so far.”

“That’s…reassuring,” I say, Suyin finally taking the thermometer.

Peaches leans against the wall, grinning like this is all a casual afternoon activity. “She’s great,” Peaches chirps, offering a thumbs-up. “Real genius. You’re in good hands.”

“Not sure if that’s comforting or ominous,” I mutter, shifting in the chair.

Suyin doesn’t respond, already engrossed in the dock’s readout. The machine hums louder, its soft whirring filling the silence.

I glance around the clinic, trying not to feel like a specimen under a microscope. The cabinets lining the walls are neatly organized, their sterile white surfaces broken only by the occasional label. A broom leans in one corner, and a faded medical poster hangs lopsided on the far wall, its edges curling. It’s the kind of place that feels functional, not welcoming—like the world before, preserved in snapshots and fragments.

Suyin leans closer to the dock, narrowing her eyes at the screen. “Stay still,” she says absently.

“Sure, wouldn’t want to throw off the science,” I mumble.

“Just let the dock do its thing,” Peaches says, shooting me a wink. “It’s like magic.”

“Is all this really necessary?” I ask, gesturing vaguely at the rig that has me strapped in like I’m about to launch into orbit. The blood pressure cuff squeezes my arm rhythmically, and the faint hum of the medical dock fills the air. “I thought I’d just grab some pills and be on my way.”

Suyin pauses mid-check of the diagnostic screen, tilting her head slightly as she crosses her arms. “Can I be honest with you?”

I nod cautiously, already regretting asking.

She exhales, her tone steady and matter-of-fact. “We don’t have a huge supply of birth control or emergency contraceptives, so I need to make sure you’re fertile before handing anything out.”

“Great,” I mutter, the words dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks for the heads-up, I guess.”

“It’s not personal,” she adds, clearly unfazed by my tone. Her calm demeanor only makes the whole situation feel weirder. “Combat injuries can mess things up, even with enhanced healing factors. And considering that gunshot wound you had, it’s worth checking for internal damage. Better safe than sorry.”

I shift in the chair, the leather squeaking under me. The mention of the gunshot wound makes my stomach twist. I don’t love revisiting that part of my life, but it’s not like I can deny the logic behind her caution. “You could’ve led with that,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “Would’ve made this whole thing feel less…clinical.”

Suyin arches an eyebrow but doesn’t reply, her fingers tapping a sequence on the dock’s keypad. A soft beep answers her, the machine’s screen flickering with data I can’t begin to interpret.

“Still can’t believe everyone just knew about the bite and didn’t tell me,” I mutter, half to myself.

Peaches, lounging nearby on a low stool, perks up at my words. “It wasn’t exactly a secret,” she says with a sheepish smile, tucking her legs beneath her. “But we didn’t really know what it meant for you. Plus…you didn’t seem like you’d take the news too well.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say, shooting her a look.

Suyin glances over at us, her brow furrowing slightly. “To be fair, it wasn’t just about you. We didn’t know how your body would react to the bite, physically or emotionally. Every case is different, especially with bite-transferred lycanthropy.”

I don’t get a chance to ask what exactly that means before Suyin’s focus shifts back to the screen as the dock emits another beep. She narrows her eyes, scrolling through the data with a practiced efficiency that makes me feel simultaneously reassured and like a lab rat.

“Huh,” she says, tilting her head.

“Huh?” I echo, not loving her tone. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

“It’s…not bad,” she says, flicking through screens. “Just weird. You’re the first human I’ve examined with lycanthropy from a bite. It’s like…a slow, organic version of what the Angels did to us.”

“Is it still happening?”

She nods, looking intrigued. “Seems like it. Your body’s adapting, but it’s…different.”

The dock chimes again, the sound sharp and final, and I notice the flicker of something different on Suyin’s face—her calm professionalism slipping just a little. Her lips press into a thin line, and she hesitates, her eyes flicking between me and the screen.

“What is it?” I ask, my stomach sinking. My voice is steadier than I feel, but there’s already a pit forming in my chest.

Suyin takes a slow breath before meeting my gaze. “You don’t need to worry about birth control,” she says carefully, like she’s choosing every word with precision. “Based on these scans…pregnancy isn’t in the cards for you.”

Her words land like a physical blow, a sucker punch that knocks the air out of me. I came here for birth control. I wasn’t even thinking about kids. Not really. Not consciously. But hearing this? Hearing it’s not an option at all?

I blink, my thoughts scattering like glass shattering on the floor. I wasn’t planning to have kids. Not in this world, not after everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done. Raising my sister was hard enough, and I’d told myself a long time ago it wasn’t in the cards—not by choice.

But now that the choice is gone?

“Oh,” I manage, my voice thin and hollow. It feels like it’s coming from somewhere far away. “Well…good to know.”

Suyin’s expression softens, the edges of her usual clinical demeanor melting into something more human, more understanding. She points to the dock’s screen, the glow of the detailed scan casting strange shadows on her face. “Here,” she says gently, gesturing to an image I can’t fully make sense of. “This is a scan of your abdomen. It looks like when you were shot, the bullet…well, it tore through your uterus. The scar tissue is extensive.”

My throat tightens, my pulse thudding in my ears. The image on the screen blurs slightly as I blink, her words looping in my head. Torn through your uterus. Scar tissue. Extensive.

Suyin keeps talking, her voice low and even, like she’s trying not to overwhelm me. “Frankly,” she says, “I’m amazed you healed as well as you did. Reyes’ bite likely helped mitigate some of the damage. Does it still hurt?”

I shake my head, swallowing hard. “No. I figured it was one of those ‘wolf things.’” My attempt at a joke falls flat, even to my own ears.

She nods, offering a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It probably was, to some extent. The bite worked some miracles, but this…this isn’t something that can heal completely. The damage was too severe.”

I nod slowly, but I don’t really hear her anymore. My thoughts are stuck, looping between what she’s said and the implications of it. I try to latch onto the logic, the science of it—scar tissue, damage, healing factors.

It’s easier than acknowledging the ache settling deep in my chest, the quiet grief for something I didn’t even know I wanted.

Peaches steps closer, her hand landing gently on my shoulder. Her touch is warm, grounding, and her voice softens. “I’m sorry, Tilda. Really.”

I try to smile, but it feels stiff, forced, like my face doesn’t quite know how to cooperate. “It’s fine. Really.” I shrug, as if I can shake off the heaviness pressing down on me. “I’m almost forty—it’s not like this was in the cards anyway.”

Neither of them looks convinced, but Suyin gives me space, stepping back and crossing her arms. “Well,” she says after a pause, her tone lightening, “you’re all set. And for the record, if you and Reyes decide to…you know—” her voice dips just slightly, “—I’d still recommend Plan B. Just in case.”

Peaches snorts, the sound sharp and unexpected, breaking the lingering tension in the room. “Tilda, if you need advice on seducing a priest, I’m happy to help,” she says, her grin wide and teasing.

“Peaches,” I hiss, glaring at her, but there’s no real heat in it. The corner of my mouth betrays me, twitching into a reluctant smirk.

“What?” She holds her hands up in mock innocence, though her grin only grows. “I think it’s romantic. Forbidden love and all that. Plus, I don’t think anyone around here really cares about Reyes’s vows.”

“Peaches,” I warn, but my tone is weaker now, and I know she can hear the smile creeping into my voice.

She leans in conspiratorially. “Just…maybe let us know how it goes?”

I roll my eyes, but her laughter is infectious. Somehow, her teasing pulls me out of the fog, just a little. “Yeah, sure. I’ll keep you posted,” I say, deadpan, and that earns me a full, delighted laugh from her.

Suyin watches the exchange with a faint smile, her usual quiet demeanor softening into something kind. “You know where to find me if you need anything else,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring.

I nod, the heaviness still lingering in my chest, but the edges softened by the warmth of their company. “Thanks,” I murmur, meaning it more than I can say.

For a moment, the three of us just stand there, the gravity of the moment balanced by the undercurrent of camaraderie. It doesn’t fix everything—not even close—but it feels less overwhelming.

Like maybe I’m not entirely alone in this.

As we step out into the corridor, Peaches loops an arm around my shoulder. “Well,” she says, her voice light, “at least we’ve got the logistics sorted. Now all you have to do is convince Reyes to break his vows.”

I laugh, a little hollow. “If I even want him to.”

“Oh, you want him to,” Peaches laughs. “It’s so obvious.”

I glance away, letting her words settle uncomfortably in my chest. Do I? The thought claws at me, tangled with too many emotions I can’t quite name. Wanting him means opening myself up to something I don’t think I’m ready for, and I’m not sure if I can risk it.

Peaches squeezes my shoulder, her smile softening. “Think about it,” she says simply.

As if I’ve been thinking about anything else since I got here.

As if I’ll ever want someone other than him.