Page 33 of Fortress
“Sixteen.” He grimaced a little. “Seventeen in May.”
She blinked in surprise. “How do you know his birthday?”
Jake glared at her. “I looked it up. I asked. They keep records.”
Theymust be the Agency for Supernatural Control. Dr. Turner had a hundred follow-up questions—How long had he known Tobias? How did they meet? Why take him out of FREACS?—but she kept them behind her teeth. He was alreadyrattled and antagonistic, and a smart woman would stick to the necessary points.
“I’m only trying to get a complete picture of who Tobias is and how he came to be here. The sooner I understand that, the sooner we can treat and release him. Dr. Cunningham has informed me that your papers are legitimate—no one’s challenging your rights here.”
Jake drew in a long breath, rubbing his face and pushing his fingers through his hair. Then he straightened and met her eyes—still strained, but more focused. “What do you need to know?”
Dr. Turner picked up her pen. “When was he released from FREACS?”
“Last summer,” Jake said quietly, and swallowed. “July of 2000.”
Less than a year, then. “His ID number listed in the papers is 89UI6703. That verifies what you’ve told us, as far as him being unidentified. The first two numerals indicate the year he was admitted—1989? Is that correct?”
Jake nodded stiffly.
“But that was—” Dr. Turner glanced toward Tobias’s room again, bewildered. “If he’s sixteen now, he would have been...”
“Five. Yeah.” Turning her head, Dr. Turner caught his expression: hard again with anger, but edged with grief and pain.
She chose her next question carefully. “Do you know why Tobias was admitted to FREACS, Jake?”
His jaw jumped. “No.”
“They didn’t even tell you when they released him to you? That seems like poor planning.”
Jake snorted. “Well, they’re not hiring from Mensa, I can tell you that.”
“I’ll take you at your word that he’s shown no sign of supernatural ability while in your care.” She had worked withhunters before. A phrase liketake you at your word or on your honortended to either piss them off or read as exactly their due. Jake took it with another tight nod. “Has he had any medical treatment before? He’s showing signs of past malnourishment.”
More anger—not directed at her—and something like guilt crossed Jake’s face. He shifted in his chair. “When I first got him out, I wanted... Tobias didn’t want to see a doctor. Like,reallydidn’t want to, like he might actually stop breathing if I made him.” Jake glanced toward him through the window. “So I patched him up when other hunts went bad. He had the flu once, and I took care of him. Nothing came out of him that doesn’t come out of me when I feel like shit.”
Dr. Turner hesitated. This last question could be pushing it, but she needed to know. “Was the purpose of retrieving him from FREACS to hunt with you?”
Jake leaned forward, making a sound close to a growl, and her fingers clenched on the clipboard on her desk. Maintaining eye contact, she prepared to spring for the panic button on the wall if he lunged.
After a moment, he sat back down, fists clenched on his knees and jaw locked. “Yeah,” he lied through his pretty, even teeth. “That’s why.”
Dr. Turner stared at him, heart still pumping fast. “Yes, you got him out to hunt with you?”
“Yep.” Jake looked like he might rupture something critical as he said it, but he didn’t blink. She didn’t think he was usually a bad liar, but if anyone believed that delivery, she would eat her stethoscope. “I’m a hunter. I hunt. But I wanted Toby, too, because he’s smart and fast and cares about people enough to do stupid shit like throw himself barehanded at a troll to keep it from stomping all over that truck of kids. And I didn’t fuckingwanthim to do that, though I’d’ve done it too. Iwantto keep him alive, okay? There’s not one fucking thing supernaturalabout him, and he didn’t belong in that camp, not when the worst fucking thing he’s ever wanted to do is save people.”
Dr. Turner blinked and pretended to mark something on her clipboard. That hadn’t been a standardized question, and fortunately for the young man before her, she was under no obligation to record his answer. “Thank you for your cooperation. I may have more questions for you later as more information—”
“Can I fucking see him now?”
His patience seemed all used up. That was okay; she was rapidly losing her stomach for this line of questioning as well. “Yes. We have protective gear if you—”
Jake had already bolted to the door that led into the isolation room, and he just threw her a dirty look when she mentioned the PPE. She hadn’t expected him towantit but felt professionally obliged to offer. His expression grew darker still when the door wouldn’t budge.
It felt dangerous to walk up beside him, to leave vulnerable wrists and body exposed within striking distance while she keyed open the door. But he didn’t hang around to take out the anger and impatience boiling under his skin. As soon as the lock clicked open, Jake Hawthorne was through the door and to the bedside of his charge.
Toby had looked unconscious through the window, lying goddamn still with his head turned away.
But as Jake rounded the bed, he saw Toby’s eyes were partially open, staring at nothing.
