But he did it, because he understood that his only protection was their belief that he was already lost.

He hid his own healing, so that they would not stop it.

Chapter 7 — Our Dear Patient

Christopher walked into the room without knocking, the way a man walks into a room he already considers his own.

He wore a tailored gray suit and an expensive watch, and his face wore an expression of faint, permanent annoyance, as though the whole business of his uncle’s dying were an inconvenience keeping him from better things.

“And how is our dear patient today?” he asked, in a tone so light it made my skin crawl.