Then she switched on a bright fluorescent lamp that hung directly over my face, apparently designed to blind a person. I was forced to close my eyes, bright spots swirling in the backs of my eyelids.

I couldn’t see much of what she was doing after that, but I felt her probing my body with cool metal objects. She planted what felt like a stethoscope against my chest, then I felt bands around my upper arm which tensed and squeezed—apparently taking my blood pressure. An unpleasant rounded object covered with some kind of ice-cold gel roamed my neck, and it seemed to be giving off some kind of micro-electric current, as I felt an unpleasant stinging in my skin. Then, without asking for my permission, she rolled up the bottom of my shirt, revealing my bare lower abdomen. Using the same freezing cold gel-coated instrument, she ran it over my stomach, causing shivers to run through my body. I bit my lip, tensing.

“What are you doing?” I grunted.

“Just a few tests,” she said lightly. “Nothing to worry about.”

It grated at my nerves the way she talked to me like I was a child. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had a gun near her as she sat examining me. Though even if she didn’t, and I managed to overpower her and escape, where would I go? Heck, I didn’t even know that I could leave this laboratory. It had required Mark’s thumbprint to enter, and it might not be possible even to exit this place without another authorized fingerprint. I guessed that I could try to drag Jocelyn along to the door and force her finger against the device… but then what? I was still in the middle of nowhere. I would likely freeze before I ever found help, or more likely, they would catch me first. I pushed away the fantasy of escape. If they didn’t let me go voluntarily soon, I would have no choice but to attempt it… but when I did, I needed to have a good plan. Otherwise I would only find myself in worse trouble.

My focus returned to Jocelyn. She had finished freezing my stomach with her probe, and had hopefully put the damn thing away. She had now moved to my feet where, for reasons I couldn’t fathom, she had begun digging her fingers against pressure points in my soles. I wanted to squirm away from her. I was ticklish down there.

“So, Jocelyn,” I said, trying to avert my attention from the way she was touching me. Still, I kept my eyes closed to shield myself from the blinding light. “What do you do exactly?”

“I’m a scientist,” she replied, “and a doctor. Depends on which day of the week it is, really.”

“A scientist and a doctor of what?”

My question was met with silence.

I blew out a sigh. Why was I even still bothering to attempt to get some serious answers out of these people? They were all as tight-lipped as each other.

Neither of us spoke for what felt like the next ten minutes. Then, to my surprise, her stool scraped and she switched off the horrid lamp.

I opened my eyes to see her standing by my head and looking me over with a gleam of contentment in her eyes. She clutched a pad of paper in one hand which was filled with scribbled notes, though she was holding it at such an angle that I couldn’t read them—no doubt a conscious move on her part.

“How old were you when you were half-turned?” she asked.

I felt bemused that still, nobody had bothered to ask my name.

“Seventeen,” I replied.

An unnerving smile formed on her thin lips, the satisfaction in her expression intensifying. “So young,” she said. “Good.”

Although curiosity burned inside me, I didn’t even bother to ask her why that was good.

She placed her notepad on a nearby table and settled her pen on top of it. “Right,” she said, straightening and rubbing her hands together. “We’re almost done. I need you to do just one last thing for me, all right?”

No, it’s not all right, but, of course, that was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it?

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin plastic tube. “Go to the bathroom and fill this with your urine.”

My lip curled. “I don’t need to pee.”

“No problem,” she said briskly, even as she planted the tube into my right hand. “We can fix that.” She moved over to a sink and, filling up a glass with water, returned and handed it to me. “Drink up.”

I raised the glass gingerly to my lips and began to drink. I was actually thirsty, so I didn’t object to topping up on water but… I hated being asked to fill up a tube of urine for anyone—even my doctor back home in New York—much less for these despicable hunters. Still, I had no choice.

I swallowed down three cupfuls until I felt the need to go. I spent as little time in the bathroom as possible doing the deed, and then returned to Jocelyn.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, eyeing the tube of pee like it was liquid gold. “All right. I’ll escort you back to your room.”

She stowed my urine sample away in a drawer before leading me out of the lab. I was right in assuming that the place was locked from the inside too—Jocelyn had to plant her thumbprint onto a screen.

As we wound our way back to the courtyard, I muttered without even bothering to hide the irritation in my voice, “So are you satisfied with whatever tests you were doing?”

I’d said it out of annoyance rather than actually expecting a reply, but this time, she did choose to respond.

“Oh, more than satisfied,” she said, that unnerving smile of hers returning to her lips.

I cocked my head to one side, raising a brow, as if daring her to continue.