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Turning to his unconscious state, melancholy lurked through my eyes. She folded the blankets up and fixed his hands under the blankets. With a heavy sigh, she turned to me. "Did you send him the full address?" I nodded and glared through the window. The streets were empty like a few minutes back when I looked down.

  "Speaking of that letter a year ago, have you found out who left it in your locker?" I lowered my head in silence, returning a negative glare. "It still bugs me. I might catch a clue at the Black Street. When he gets better, I'll check there."

  When her eyes fell on the clock on the wall, she turned to me frustrated. "What's taking him so long? I don't know how long we can hold him." I sat by him and checked his pulse rate. There was still a tight friction in his pulse. Moving his head back and forth, sweat slowly accumulated on his forehead.

"Who's Allan? Is he a doctor?" Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "Something like that. He's a werewolf too. He'll have more knowledge on his reactions."

Ending her statement there, we heard a knock on the door. "That must be him. I'll check!" I ranted. Getting up quickly from my bed, I dashed to the door and twisted the door knob leftwards to open. A crack sound was heard when I opened it. As I moved the door sideways, I saw a tall young man in glasses. When he raised his head, I saw a striking resemblance between my dad and him.

  His slender jaw exposed his silent demeanor. As he looked into the room, he turned back to me with a curious look. "Is this Clara Dickson's residence?" I nodded quickly and directed him in with my hands. Bowing, he walked in after I stepped back.

As he marched into the room, I walked behind him. The more I studied his movements, I realized that Allan seemed a bit like Max in terms of fashion. But he was smallish and cute with the black suitcase in his hands. "I'm Clara. I called you here on the phone."

Sighing, he replied, "Sorry I'm late. I'm Allan Steinfield," he introduced. Extending his hands, I lifted my hand quickly to shake hands with him. I smiled lightly as we both turned to Cathy. She smiled and called him over.  "We have an emergency here. I hope you don't mind me being inhospitable -"

  "-I understand. Let's check on him first." Dropping his suitcase on a table by the bed, he pulled out a stethoscope and hung it over his ear before lowering the end on his chest. After taking a studious rhythm beat of his heart, he let out a sigh.

  "Did you find anything?" As we looked at him sweating profusely, Allan returned a serious look. It wasn't like the confidence he entered here with. It was as though he wasn't confident about diagnosing him anymore. Remaining silent, he dropped the stethoscope in his suitcase and run a torchlight over both his eyes.

  After a few minutes of analysis his eye and heart beat pressure, he looked up and turned off the torchlight. Dropping it in his suitcase, he took a seat by him and pulled his hand out if the bedsheets. With a tap of his two fingers on Ian's wrist, he closed his eyes and tracked his pulse by meditation.

We moved to them and stood behind him patiently waiting for his diagnosis. Examining his condition after checking his pulse, he opened his eyes breathing heavily. "How's he now? What's with that look?" Cathy asked when he moved away of the bed.

With a perplexed, confused look in his eyes, he folded his arms looking down.

"What did you feed him recently? It's clashing with his blood. He's not good at all! Moreover, I'm seeing an open wound. He'll need some rest to heal it up."

I stepped forward and fumbled under my breath, "I have him drops of my blood-"

"Your blood? You're a werewolf?" I nodded and lowered my head. "My father was. Can we do something about it?" He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Why did you even do that?! Don't you know those blood don't interact? Who stabbed him?"

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