I shook my head.
"Anita," Dr. North said, "you're going to bleed if you don't stop digging your nails into your arms."
I stared down at my hands as if they'd just appeared at the end of my arms. My fingers were stiff with tension when I peeled them away from my arms. Little half moons from my fingernails decorated my skin. Almost blood, almost.
Richard offered me his hand. I hesitated, then took it. The energy spiked between us; we were both too nervous to be of much help to each other. He shut down, shielded up, and his hand was just warm and real in my hand. I appreciated the effort on his part, after he'd seen what I'd done to my own arms, but I finally lost the battle not to look behind me at Micah. I was too scared to play to anyone's ego. Too scared not to want to wrap myself in as much comfort as I could find.
Micah came to my other hand. Richard stiffened, not wanting it, and not able to hide that he didn't want it, but he didn't throw a fit. I squeezed his hand, and bumped my head against his shoulder to let him know how much the effort meant to me, because it did. It really did. The extra attention earned me a smile, that smile that brightened his whole face. The smile that once I'd have given my heart to see.
I turned back to the doctor, clinging to both of them, and feeling better for it. I'd have liked to play it cool, but I clung to their hands as if they were the last pieces of wood in a drowning ocean.
"I had them run the blood work a second time, Anita."
"That can't be good," I said.
"Is this where you ask her to sit down?" Claudia asked.
Dr. North glanced at her. "She can sit down if she wants." He turned back to me, with a smile. "Do you want to sit down?"
"Do I need to sit down?"
His smile widened, and he glanced at the men on either side. "I don't think so, but if you do, I think you've got enough support." He nodded at Micah and Richard.
"Just tell me, doc," I said. My voice strained, but normalish. Points for me.
"Can I be absolutely candid in front of everyone in this room?" he asked.
I fought the urge to scream, and managed to say, "Yes, yes, just say it. God, please, just say it."
He nodded, again. "Are you aware that you have lycanthropy?"
I nodded, then frowned. "I'm aware that I'm carrying lycanthropy."
"Funny you should say it that way," he said. "Your blood work is just unique, Anita."
"I learned a few weeks ago that I'm carrying leopard, wolf, lion, and something that the doctors couldn't even identify."
He gave me a look. "You know that it's impossible to carry more than one strain of lycanthropy. They cancel each other out. You can't catch it more than once."
I nodded again, squeezing the hands that held me. "I know all that. It's a medical miracle, yadda-yadda-yadda, just get to the pregnancy part. Do I have Mowgli syndrome, or Vlad's syndrome?"
He gave me very good eye contact, way too serious, and said, "Yes, as far as the tests can tell us."
My knees went, and I might have hit the floor, but Micah and Richard caught me. Someone brought one of the chairs up, and the men lowered me into it. They kept their hands on mine, and each of them put a hand on a shoulder, as if they didn't trust me not to fall forward. I wasn't that bad, not yet. Not yet.
"What do you mean, 'as far as the tests can tell'?" Micah asked.
"The two syndromes are like lycanthropy; you can't have both. A fetus can't carry both Vlad's and Mowgli syndrome. If Anita weren't carrying four different kinds of lycanthropy, a medical impossibility, I'd say we might have twins, but because of the other blood work, and some of the other tests…"
His mouth kept moving, but all I could hear in my ears was the blood roaring through it. Richard and Micah helped me put my head between my knees, and kept me from falling out of the chair. The head between my knees helped after a few moments. But I was glad for their hands on me, holding me in place. I don't faint, but I'd passed out before, and this felt awfully similar. Jesus, twins. Talk about karmic payback, with interest. Twins with two of the worst birth defects known to modern science. Sweet Mary, Mother of God, help me on this one.
Dr. North's voice came from just in front of me. He was kneeling by me. "Anita, Anita, can you hear me? Anita!"
I managed to nod my head.
"I don't want to give you false hope here, because to my knowledge the only way to test positive for these syndromes is to be pregnant, but you tested negative for pregnancy. Twice."
I raised my head, slowly; one, because it was as fast as I could move it safely, and two, because I didn't believe I'd heard what I'd heard. "What?" I asked, in a voice that didn't sound like me at all.