Page 19 of Wolf Bane (Marked #3)

“I bet I can guess why we’re here,” she said after a sip of her bright pink strawberry lemonade. “And if I guess right, then you have to schedule a visit with me. Professionally. Because you need to fucking talk to someone, bud.”

“Bud?” I laughed. “Seriously?”

Gina Perrin shrugged. “It was either that or asshole, and I don’t think we’ve reached that stage of our relationship yet, where I can casually curse at you and not expect it to be awkward on Monday.”

“Oh, it’s gonna be awkward on Monday. You met Reba, right?” While we made our way through our food, I filled her in on Reba being human and apparently entirely unaware of weres, shifters, and the delightful neither/or situation Mal and I fell into.

“I was told there’d be human involvement,” she said carefully, pushing her plate to one side so she could lean in.

“But I wasn’t aware it was going to be this precarious.

Mental health is mental health, no matter how you slice it.

People like us? We just have a different layer of bullshit to go through than most of society.

I can see a regular human patient just as easily as I can see one of us.

But what is Reba going to do when you have another patient you can’t pretend is having a seizure?

Or when one of the more militant anti-human sorts decides to shift in the waiting room just to scare her or prove a point? ”

She hesitated, lowering her voice to add, “What’s your plan for when you can’t hold back the flood all on your lonesome and all of the human patients find out? Because Landry, that is going to happen.”

I know . “I don’t know.” Nausea and French fries were a terrible mix. I pushed the remains of my lunch to one side and took a long drink of my iced tea, the cold helping tamp down the urge to vomit somewhat but not enough to pretend I was blasé about the whole situation.

Gina Perrin leaned back, her sharp gaze seeing things I’m sure I didn’t want her to. Finally, something in her posture shifted almost imperceptibly, and she gave me the smallest of smiles. “Cross that bridge when we get there?”

“If I have to.”

“Hm.”

At my questioning glance, she waved me off.

“Sorry, knee-jerk shrink response. Hm. So let me take another guess and this time, if I’m right, not only do you schedule a visit with me professionally, you schedule a second one and, ” she paused, her smile growing just a tiny bit bigger, “you ask Reba to make me a batch of that bourbon peanut brittle.”

“Deal.”

It was a huddled sort of affair, our comparing notes, but Gina Perrin had the benefit of not being as hamstrung by ICW as Ethan.

“I don’t know as much as you’d like me to,” she admitted after a frustrating round of questions, “but I do know this is far more of a thing in the inner workings than they’d want to admit.

By the time it reaches people like me? That means they’re panicking in the C-suite.

Look, I know you want to believe I have some insider knowledge about what’s going on with the research end of things there, but I really don’t.

The number of docs and researchers they have in those rooms?

Miniscule. There’s not a lot of us in the world as it is, then start dividing that by jobs and skills, the number of us who are in the sciences is virtually negligible, all things considered. ”

“Could’ve fooled me. Seems like the only weres I run into are either survivalist sorts or medical researchers.” I paused, thinking of Cullen for a moment. “Or bureaucrats.”

She snorted. “Wait until you meet a mix of all three. Throw in some good old-fashioned human bigotry for good measure and you’ve got about a solid third of the staff for the medical unit at ICW.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that.”

“The flippant answer would be it is what it is , but what it is , is disgusting. And exhausting. And demoralizing.” Rapping her fingers against the table, she shook her head and fixed me with another intense look.

I wondered if she’d somehow become the one were with mind reading abilities because I was feeling very exposed, flayed open as she studied me.

“I do know about you, Landry Babin. You’re kind of a legend in the medical research wing.

You and the little hybrid you picked up in Colorado. ”

“Mal,” I muttered. “His name is Mal.”

“I meant the girl.”

For the first time since meeting her—which admittedly hadn’t been that long of a time—Gina Perrin made me uneasy. “She’s a child. No one is going to mess with her. If anyone tries to touch her?—”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just letting you know you’re not some isolated little island in a sea of humans. You’re known . So is the girl, her father, all of you. What Garrow did…”

I straightened, the nausea replaced by hot anger, fear. It was reflexive when I heard the name. Like decades of torture—of what I thought were routine medical visits, things I needed but were the vilest lies—were happening all over again. “Garrow. You know the name.”

Gina Perrin ran her thumb over the condensation on her glass, watching me watch her.

“Like I said, you’re not some isolated thing out there, Doctor Babin.

The ICW is well aware of this small group you’re part of.

It was part of my training, even, before being sent down here.

Sort of a sensitivity seminar, working with someone who isn’t entirely were, not entirely human. ”

I rolled my eyes. “And where are they getting the information on how to do…” I trailed off.

Ethan.

Was Ethan talking to them about me? About Mal and Mariska and Justin and… I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath before letting it out slowly. “What did they teach you in this little seminar? Were there slides? Tell me there were slides. Did I look good?”

“It wasn’t like that. Nothing personal. Seemed to be a hodgepodge of the usual corporate training bullshit and reminders that humans deserve compassion just as much as the were community and these hybrids are in a unique position to bridge the chasm between our communities one day .

” She rolled her eyes. “Though they did use your med school residency picture. Glad you decided to give up the ponytail, Doctor Babin.”

“Landry. If we’re going to be working together, I’m Landry.” I pushed my plate of fries in her direction. She eyed them, then selected one with a small nod of thanks. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was blindsided, but that’s no excuse for being a raging dickrag.”

She snorted, coughing on the fry before she could down some lemonade to clear her throat. “I think having a patient shifting in the middle of your exam room tempers the dickrag-ness a bit. Speaking of… What the hell?”

I shook my head. “I’m trying to figure that out myself. Have you ever, in your entire life, known of someone who didn’t know they were a were until adulthood? Like maybe they were lied to about it or something?”

“Nope. Doesn’t happen like that. It’s unavoidable—if you’re born were or shifter, you’re going to know pretty early on.

” She hesitated, then in a lower tone, added, “There’s been a few cases of weres and shifters who were adopted by humans.

The human family had no idea that their kid was like that, you know? It usually ends ugly.”

“Oh God…”

Focused on the dregs of her lemonade so she wouldn’t have to look at me, she nodded, poking her straw at some of the strawberry seeds clinging to the melting ice.

“A couple were okay, you know? It’s a big adventure, our kid’s a werewolf, how cool is that, and, before ICW was a thing, the local were communities kind of took them in, helped them out.

They managed to keep quiet because, well, who the hell would believe it, you know? But others…”

“Don’t.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s not usual for some of the groups to act out, close ranks, all that shit. We’re insular because we keep us safe.”

“I think the shifters and weres of Penny Mine and Shoot Well would beg to differ,” I muttered darkly. “And everyone Bluebonnet experimented on.”

“That’s where it gets tricky. Are you a were?

Is Mal?” She pointed a fry at me before taking a bite.

“Who decides that? Do you? Do I? There’s no affirming council that gives you a certificate and a badge declaring you an official werewolf.

We just are . You and Justin? Mal? And to an extent Mariska?

You’re scaring a lot of people because it challenges what they believe, what the entire community has believed, for generations.

And now Mr. Robards? A hybrid made up outside a mated pairing…

Look, people have always been weird, you know?

There’s been some times over the known history that someone’s tried to, ah, force a breeding between a were and a human. Or a shifter and human. Or?—”

“I get it,” I muttered, nauseated. “There’s folks I know for a fact are half and half,” I pointed out. “And some that are, er… null?”

Gina Perrin wrinkled her nose at that. “Non-presenting,” she said.

“That’s the term we use in the research lab.

But I’ve heard plenty worse than null .” She finished the fry in one big bite.

“The point is, no one’s succeeded in doing what Garrow did.

Not before, well you. We’d definitely be talking about it for years, if it had been a thing. ”

“That’s part of the problem,” I groaned.

“No one is talking. Everyone is tight-lipped. ICW is acting like this is all military grade secrets and not telling me—or I’m sure any of the minions they put in the clinics—what the fuck is going on with this virus, and we’re running the risk of it spreading faster and further than it has already. ”