ELEVEN
Spring, 1914
Green shuddered at the touch of skin to skin, the boy’s fingers curled around his throat. Within the span of a breath, his pupils dilated, his face reddened, and his hand reached up reflexively to grasp the boy’s wrist. It was only reflex, though, not panic. The boy’s arm shook with effort, not with tension; his grip did not tighten. Instead, his thumb travelled over the angle of the doctor’s jaw and across his lips. Green’s eyes went blank and glassy, and he groaned, hunching forward.
Owen sucked in a breath as though to curse, lunged toward the bed, seized the collar of Green’s pyjamas, and jerked him backward. The doctor’s slippered feet slid on the tiles, and he went sprawling straight into Hannibal. All three men went down in a tangle.
And by the time he had ma
