Doolittle took a scalpel. His hand flashed, too quickly to see. Pain stung me, quick and sharp. Black blood gushed from the wound, and Doolittle wiped it with gauze. “This will sting.”

A white-hot needle thrust into my arm. My entire body screamed in alarm. It felt like someone had bored a hole in my muscle and poured molten metal into it.

“Hold it in,” Doolittle told me, his voice gentle. “You’re doing wonderful. Wonderful. Hold it. A little longer…”

I growled and clawed at the armrest with my left hand. Barabas held me tight.

“Did you like my message on the table?” Raphael asked.

“Loved it,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “I’ll have to repay the favor later.”

The pain grew and grew, inflaming my arm. I shuddered, my limbs shaking.

“Don’t change shape,” Doolittle said. “You’re doing fine. You’re doing very well. Just a little bit more. Hold on for me, Andrea.”

The pain ate its way through my muscle all the way to the bone and scraped it with sharp serrated teeth. I snarled.

“Aaalmost there,” Doolittle crooned. “Almost.”

“We got you,” Barabas told me. “We got you.”

I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take another second. My body twisted, looking for a way to escape. Faint spots appeared on my skin.

“Don’t change shape,” Raphael snapped.

“Shut up.”

“Be good or I’ll kiss you in front of everybody.”

“Hell no,” I snarled. I had to hold on and live through this so I could punch him in the face. It was a great goal.

“Hold on,” Doolittle told me. “Ten more seconds.”

Aaah. It hurts. It hurts, hurrts, hurrrrrts…

“Expel,” Doolittle’s voice snapped.

I concentrated every ounce of my will on the pain.

Heat spread through me, combing through my flesh with spiked fingers.

Get out of my body. Get the hell out!

The needle shivered.

I cried out.

“Expel it,” Doolittle urged.

“You can do it,” Barabas told me.

I pushed. The needle slid free and scalding-hot blood gushed down my arm. It ran gray, purple, and then finally bright red. Raphael let go of my arm and I punched him in the chest. It was the closest part of him.

“Good girl.” Doolittle exhaled. “Well done.”

I wiped tears from my eyes and saw Ascanio. He stared at me. His eyes were huge and terrified.

“Let that be a lesson to you,” Doolittle told him. “Don’t get bitten. Bring the meat from the refrigerator. Andrea needs to eat.”

It’s amazing how much good a sandwich, or three, can do for you. My head had stopped spinning and I no longer felt like my legs wouldn’t support me. I eyed the dwindling ham, from which Julie had carved the meat for my sandwiches. No more food would physically fit into my stomach, but I was still hungry.