Dr. Riggs lifted the covers at the bottom of the bed and raised a plastic bag half filled with pale yellow fluid. “Good girl.”
Her eyes rested on the heart-monitoring machine, then met Talia’s gaze. “Excellent. You’re doing much better. How do you feel?”
“Um…confused?”
Dr. Riggs’s smile broadened. “No kidding. You’ve had rather acute hyperthermia. Heatstroke. It can be very dangerous. Renal failure. Heart attack. You were in pretty bad shape when I got you, but you’re making excellent progress now. You’ll probably experience some lingering effects like confusion and temperature sensitivity. We’ll work on the confusion. Are you too hot or cold?”
“No…” Talia had much more pressing worries. “Where am I?”
“The Segue Institute. It’s a research facility.”
“What am I doing here?”
“You’re here for research. Adam will explain it better. Let me call him, and then I’ll take care of that catheter for you.” Dr. Riggs flashed her bright smile again and exited the room.
Talia froze. She was here for research. So someone could prick her and prod her until they discovered how she worked.
Put me in a maze like a rat. Might as well have left in me in that alley. At least those rats were free.
The door thumped, banged, then reopened. Dr. Riggs pushed in a metal cart and parked it at the side of the bed. “Adam will be right over. Let’s remove the catheter and get you comfortable. I’m sure you will have a lot to talk about.”
Dr. Riggs flipped up the sheet from the bottom and crouched embarrassingly low. “Can you bring your legs up? A little more?”
Did she have an alternative?
“This might be uncomfortable, but it will pass quickly.” Dr. Riggs wore gloves so Talia couldn’t gauge her intentions or personality by her touch. Frustrating.
Talia held her breath. A burning sting shot inside her.
“There, now,” Dr. Riggs said, standing. “You’ll have the IV until the rest of that bag empties, but let’s get you out of bed and moving.”
Talia nodded. The floor was icy on her feet, all the little bones painfully brittle, but she pulled herself up—Dr. Riggs at her elbow—and shuffled toward the door. The hospital gown gaped at the back, but she lacked a third arm to hold it shut. A cold shiver spiraled up beneath.
Dr. Riggs reached down to a lower shelf on the cart and grabbed a robe that Talia had not noticed. She helped her with the right sleeve. “We’ll just wrap this around your left side until you get the IV out.”
Talia hobbled out the door into…a large, comfortable lab. Of sorts. To one side, it seemed a typical research environment: Stainless-steel counters lined the wall and were placed at parallel and right angles in the middle of the room. Machines of several varieties vied for space. Smaller apparatus, microscope, and computers all had their corners.
The other side of the room was dominated by a flowery sofa set, tufted and pillowed with a matching chair. A colorful rug in an indistinct pattern of blues and reds covered the floor, over which a large coffee table hulked with elaborate rolled legs. A picture of a little white dog sat framed on its surface, next to an empty coffee cup, plate with crumbs, and some strange printout filled with rows of almost-microscopic numbers.
“The chair,” Dr. Riggs directed.
Talia was soon tucked in softness. Dr. Riggs reached down and assisted Talia to put her feet up on the table.
“You okay?” Dr. Riggs asked.
“I’m more confused.” Talia’s gaze wandered the room for emphasis.
Dr. Riggs chuckled. “This is my personal lab. We all have our own work space, what we need for work, and enough creature comforts to tailor Segue to our personalities and needs.”
Dr. Riggs gestured to the photo of the dog as she took a seat on the sofa. “Handsome is in my apartment upstairs. He used to play with me in the lab, but after a little mishap two months ago, he’s been banished.”
Apartment upstairs?
Across the lab, two doors slid open and Adam entered, striding in as if he knew his way around. He wore dark slacks and a blue button-down shirt, open at the collar. He was taller than Talia remembered, and he’d shaved, though a scabby rash still smeared across his forehead to his temple. But the eyes were the same. Stormy ocean eyes.
Talia tried to sit up. Without him, she’d have lost herself.
He waved her back. “Dr. O’Brien, relax. Please.”
She let herself ease into the cushions, but inwardly she remained upright.
“I’ll be just outside,” Dr. Riggs said, meeting Adam’s gaze in a silent signal. Their communication set Talia’s heart beating faster.
Adam took a seat on the sofa and leaned back, arm propped on a pillow. The pose seemed relaxed, but carefully restrained energy hummed just below the surface. His gaze was cool, level, and appraising, belying the ease of his posture. Something about the man told Talia that he was rarely one to be still.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.