Free Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) by Christina E. Rundle

overwhelmed by his desire to hide my injury.
    “I’ve seen case studies like this before, but these studies have a way of quickly disappearing.” His voice lowered further. “Don’t tell anyone where you got these cuts.”
    “Will they heal on their own or do I need to see a doctor?” I asked. The very thought made even the scratches on my chest and thighs ache. Luckily they didn’t look nearly as bad as the cut on my wrist.
    “You got this cut last night and you’re still alive. I wouldn’t go to a regulated physician with this,” he said. At my blank stare, he continued. “Belen, you’re not human.”
    Laughter burst from my throat. “What?”
    Memphis wasn’t laughing. In fact, he looked sympathetic. I stopped laughing. I believed that something roamed alongside the human population, but I didn’t believe I was one of them. The encyclopedia said that certain creatures could change a human into them. I swayed back against the counter.
    “Something that looked dead attacked me. Does that mean I’m a zombie?”
    Memphis snorted. “No, of course not. Do you even know what zombies are?” He didn’t wait for an answer that. “No, you’re not a zombie. I don’t know what you are, but you aren’t human and you aren’t a zombie. If you were human, this infection would have killed you last night.”
    Did I believe him? Maybe the liquid was just now making its way to my heart. I was sweating around the aches. This was how I pictured a snake bite killing an animal.
    “How can I suddenly not be human?” I swayed into the free seat and watched Memphis walk across the room, grab his backpack and return.
    “You were never human,” Memphis said.
    He was so matter of fact that I wanted to shake him. How could he say these things to me and without feeling? The air suddenly felt hot and it was making me sweat profusely.
    Memphis moved slowly, pulling a plastic bag from his backpack and placing all the tiny objects within it on the counter. When I saw the needle and string, I knew his plans. I pressed my feet into the ground, trying to stabilize myself. It didn’t look like there was enough flesh for the stitches to work.
    The gel stung as he rubbed it along the outer part of my wound. A few seconds later, the skin around it went numb. It was the first relief I had all day.
    “Do you have something in that bag that could numb the rest of my body?”
    Memphis didn’t answer as he strung the needle and I looked away. I’m not a coward with needles; I just don’t like watching myself get sewn up. It was another scar on the uneven canvas of my skin. I winced at every tug of the string.
    A quick glance was all I needed to know I still didn’t want to watch the process, so I looked up at him. Just behind his ear was a pentagram. It was small, about the size of my thumb, but I knew what it meant from reading the Daily Dark. My attention fell to his backpack where it laid partially open, exposing white fabric. My heart leaped. The paper knew very little about Diablo. He worked for himself.
    “Memphis—” I stopped when his blue eyes locked with mine. I lowered my shields enough to feel his anxiety. He wasn’t dangerous, but I obviously made him uncomfortable.
    He licked his lips. “I’m done.”
    I nodded, casting another glance at his bag. The slightest movement and I could accidently kick it over. It would give me a chance to see what he carried inside, but was that fair? He sewed me up.
    That might be Memphis we saw scaling the tower.
    “Just be careful who you trust,” Memphis said.
    Was that a warning? All this was jumbling in my sleep deprived head. Before I could say I needed aspirin, Memphis pressed pills into my palm. I stared at them for a moment, unsure if I should take them.
    “It’s a mild pain reliever,” he said.
    There were a lot of reasons to trust Memphis, so I popped them in my mouth and swallowed them dry. My throat muscles hurt, but what didn’t at the moment.
    “I heard Diablo