Chained by Blood by Holly Hook

Author:Holly Hook [Hook, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holly Hook
Published: 2018-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

I hated soap operas. The remote on my chair was very tempting.

But I kept my TV on in my room to make anyone outside the room more at ease. If I kept it off, they'd think I was up to something. It was best to make it look like I was passing the time.

I was going on Hour Two of this. Like Trish, the guards had returned to help strap me into a wheelchair. They kept those shock guns aimed at me the whole time. Welcoming. The discomfort of not moving was getting to me, and so was the thin hospital gown. The guards had made me change in front of them while pointing those shock guns at me. The only dignity was that I got to keep on my undergarments. Trish was right. Privacy was not something they cared about here.

If we were Normals, we could sue this place.

My thoughts kept shifting back to Brendan, and I had to keep pulling them back to staking out the area. I had memorized the guards' routes, at least for this shift. The nicer woman guard paced around the werewolf wing while the men took the other halls. The woman liked to talk to a guy named Mark during her breaks. They had a coffee room close to the cafeteria, and she frequented it often, leaving George's hallway empty.

My second cousin wasn't making much noise. Either he was sullen in captivity or they had him drugged. The werewolf wing was too far away for me to hear everything clear. I could detect Mom's sleep cycles while I was just outside my apartment, but my hearing wasn't so good I could hear George's—or anyone else's.

Doctors and nurses opened doors and greeted other patients. I listened and made a list in my head. Trish. A man named Pierre who begged for any good blood. Unnamed others. I guessed that they must have two dozen vampires here and three werewolves. The werewolves, I knew, were the best bet for helping all of us escape. If George could shift, he could withstand electrical shots and even gunshots.

The trick was getting to him and the others.

And I was already making a plan.

I had already mapped out how I could break out of this wheelchair, run around the cameras' views, and sneak past the guards on their coffee break when someone stepped up to my door and took the paper chart out of the flap. I tensed.

This might be my first treatment.

And then the door opened.

Two orderlies who smelled like morning doughnuts walked inside. They were both well-built young men who might have gone to college a few years ago. Neither wore a name tag. The first guy smiled at me. "How are you doing today?"

"Fine. This isn't comfortable, and soap operas suck." I had an attached remote on the wheelchair, held on with some crappy Velcro. One of the guards had stuck it on there before leaving.

The orderly took the remote off the chair and set it on the windowsill.

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