I held my breath, the wet cloth still clutched tightly in my hand.

The doorknob slowly began to turn.

The door swung open with a sharp creak.

Marcus did not lower his gun.

A tall woman in a dripping black trench coat stepped into the dim light of the bedroom.

She pushed back her hood, revealing pale skin and sharp, dark eyes.

It was Dr. Elaine Voss.

She carried a heavy, metallic medical case in her right hand.

“Lower the weapon, Marcus,” she said, her voice low and steady.

Marcus slowly pointed the pistol toward the floor, though his fingers remained wrapped tightly around the grip.

“You are late, Elaine,” Marcus said.

“The main road is blocked by fallen branches,” Dr. Voss said, setting her heavy case on the wooden table near the bed. “I had to leave my car by the south gate and walk through the gardens.”

She looked at me, her eyes lingering on the wet cloth in my hands.

“Are you Nina?” she asked.

“Yes, Doctor,” I said.

“Get me dry towels, a bowl of warm water, and whatever clean sheets you can find,” she ordered.