“I can’t sleep. You don’t understand what’ll happen if I do.” The stranger sat on the infirmary cot, fighting Sister Grace with what little strength his frail body could muster.
“You can, and you will.” She brought up a syringe.
His eyes widened. “No!” He pleaded with the three other nuns, who stood at the foot of the cot. “Don’t let her, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll change.”
His struggles were no use. The needle plunged deep into his arm, the strike true, and he fell back, muttering slurred apologies until consciousness left him.
“You’re sure this is for the best?” Sister Catherine asked, wringing her hands with concern.
“Trust in me, sister. I’ve done this before.” Sister Grace pulled a jeweled dagger from beneath her habit as she rushed the others to the door. They didn’t need to see what happened next.