Magic Shifts

CHAPTER 11

THE LIZARDS SPILLED out of the corpse in a ragged crescent along the edges of the parking lot like a mottled black-and-brown flood, blocking the way to Curran and the PAD. For a tiny second he and I stared at each other. His skin burst. Gray fur spilled out and then the lizards hid him from my view.

We had reanimative metamorphosis again. It was too rare to not be connected to the wind-scorpion incident. For whatever reason, the cat-hater who’d tormented Mrs. Oswald had decided to take the Guild out once and for all. Maybe it was revenge because we kept killing his pets.

The teenagers froze like frightened rabbits, their escape cut off. The two mercs still in the parking lot reached for their weapons. A lone cop, trapped by the giant’s head, slowly drew his tactical blade and backed up, his back against a mangled Chevy truck.

The lizards stared at us, their eyes glowing dark orange. They varied in size: some dark, almost black, and only the size of a boxer dog; others as big as a pony. Fast, agile, and armed with two-inch fangs. The chances of their being herbivores were nil to nonexistent. Reptiles reacted to movement. If we ran, they would chase. There were about twenty yards between them and the teenagers, and another thirty-five between the kids and Ken and me.

There was no way we would make it to the PAD’s vehicles. The Guild was our best option.

Next to me Ken raised his hands and began to chant softly, an incessant, low murmur, sinking power into every word.

“Don’t run,” I called out.

The kids pivoted to me.

“Walk to me. Slowly.”

The teenagers started toward me. The two mercs, Alix Simos and Cruz, backed up too, slowly, carefully, watching the sea of beasts swell with more bodies. They were the farthest from the Guild.

The lizards kept coming. One corpse couldn’t possibly transform into this horde. It was as if a portal had opened somewhere deep inside the giant’s body and vomited them out.

The lizard current split, both streams turning and pooling, as the beasts assessed the battlefield.

The nearest lizard, a big brown creature mottled with black, opened its mouth. A deep voice came out, the word torn by the sharp rows of teeth. “Meat.”

Oh boy.

The second lizard spat an identical voice. “Meat.”

Animals didn’t speak. Either these were really, really advanced mythological creatures, or someone was controlling the entire horde, piloting them the way navigators piloted the undead. Either way, this just went all the way from bad, past worse, straight to we are all going to die.

“Meat.”

“Meat.”

The air shuddered as hundreds of reptilian mouths repeated over and over, “Meat . . . meat . . . meat . . .”

“Don’t run!” I called out.

Cruz turned and shoved Alix down, sinking all of the strength of his powerful muscle into it. You sonovabitch. The push took the smaller merc to the ground. Alix caught himself on his hands as if doing a push-up, gripped the pavement, and stayed completely still. Cruz spun and ran for the Guild.

The lizard heads snapped in his direction, drawn to movement like sharks to blood in the water. A small solid-black lizard darted into his way. A fringe of brilliant vermilion spikes snapped up in a crest along its spine. Cruz swung his machete.

The black lizard opened its mouth, studded with sharp teeth, belched, and spat a jet of foamy slime straight at the merc. Cruz screamed. His skin stretched like molten wax, tore, and slid off him, revealing bare bloody muscle underneath. Cruz crashed down, his voice cut off in midscream. The reptiles dove after him, the spot where his body fell a churning whirlpool of scaled bodies.

“Meat!” the rest of the horde roared. “Meat!”

The teenagers ran. The lizards charged, scrambling after them. Across the parking lot, people screamed as the front wave of the reptiles tore into the first responders.

I sprinted forward, Sarrat out. My head screeched in protest, the headache pounding my skull.

Alix jumped to his feet and charged after the kids.

A tall gangly kid stumbled over a brick and fell. The rest tore past him and past me.

Alix sprinted full force, arms pumping. The nearest pursuing lizard snapped at his feet, its teeth rending empty air less than a foot from Alix’s calf.

I lunged in front of the kid on the ground. The first lizard reached me, and I cleaved its head from its neck.

Alix dashed by me, yanked the boy to his feet, and dragged him with him. Too slow. They would need time to make it to the building. If they needed time, I would buy it for them.

The lizards swarmed me. I stabbed and sliced, backing up. The nausea was overwhelming now, the hot, nearly blinding pain in my head threatening to block out everything else.

A din of human screams rose above the Guild’s parking lot.

Cut and back up. Cut and back up. I just had to walk myself right out of here and not get torn to shreds by the endless reptile beasts.

The lizards advanced in a ragged semicircle, trying to surround me. Too many . . .

A black shaggy body smashed into the lizards. A jet of corrosive slime shot past me and fell wide, spilling harmlessly on the ground. An enormous black dog clamped his jaws onto the lizard’s neck and shook it like a terrier shakes a rat.

Grendel. Curran must’ve brought him with them.

The lizards froze, shocked.

The massive dog spat the lifeless body and grinned at me, showing huge white fangs. Blue fire rippled on his fangs and danced along his shaggy fur.

“Good boy.”

Grendel parked himself on my left side and snarled.

The headache singed my brain again. Vertigo clamped onto me and acid burned my throat. Screw it. I bent over and vomited. Endorphins kicked in and for a brief moment the headache retreated.

The lizards hesitated, their pupil-less eyes glowing with cold hungry fire. So me killing them wasn’t scary, but a black shaggy mutt was clearly outside their frame of reference.

“Meat,” a lizard mouth roared.

The others caught the cry. “Meat . . . meat . . . meat . . .”

The lizards rushed me as one. I carved and sliced, kicked, thrust, and stabbed. Bodies fell around me. Grendel and I retreated, fighting for each inch. Fangs snapped at me. A lizard caught Grendel’s flank in its mouth. He snarled and I buried Sarrat in the lizard’s back. Claws raked my legs. I spun and sliced another beast. An arrow sprouted in its throat. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alix behind me, his bow in his hands. He drew and loosed the arrows in a smooth fast glide that looked as natural as breathing.

“All hands, fall in!” a woman roared across the lot, somewhere behind the lizard horde. “Form a perimeter! Melee to the front! I want a mage here and a mage there. Light them up. Archers, form up on mages. Give me intersecting fields of fire. Act like you’ve been to a party before.”

A foot. Another foot. We kept going. My breathing evened out. My mind cataloged the injuries and ignored them. Grendel bled but he still fought, ripping into reptilian bodies. The horde tightened the ring around us. They were keying on Grendel now, judging him the easier target. They wouldn’t get my dog as long as I breathed.

I chanced a glance over my shoulder. Twenty yards to the Guild. They would be a hard twenty yards. I was about to throw up again.

A lizard crashed in front of me, its body broken.

To the right the reptilian bodies flew up and aside, as if bulldozed. Someone strong and very motivated was tearing down the battlefield.

“What the hell is that?” Alix said.

“That’s my honey-bunny.”

Curran burst into the open, a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall monster clothed in steel muscle and gray fur. Faint stripes crossed his limbs like dark whip marks. Blood dripped from his clawed hands. On the left side, a patch of his skin was missing, muscle exposed and raw.

He grabbed the nearest lizard, twisted it with a loud snap, and tossed it aside. “Hey, baby.”

“Hi.” I beheaded a lizard. “Where are the kids?”

“With the MSDU.” He disemboweled a beast with a quick swipe of his claws. “You’re having all this fun without me.”

“I’m not doing much. Just having tea and cookies.” I cut at another lizard. “Thinking deep thoughts.” I love you.

“Then I’ll join you.”

He loved me, too.

We backed away together. The Guild doors loomed behind us.

“Down!” Ken barked.

I grabbed Grendel into a bear hug and dropped. Curran landed next to me, his arm over my back.

A jet of foul yellow steam tore above our heads and slashed into the front row of lizards. They convulsed, their scale hide blistering, and died. I jumped to my feet and ran the last ten yards to the Guild. Grendel dashed between the metal doors, I was next, and Curran was the last. He and I spun around and blocked the narrow gap between the doors. With only twelve feet between the doors, the lizards couldn’t come at us more than three at a time. Juke took position next to us, her spear in her hands. Behind her Alix drew his bow.

Curran put his arm around me and I hugged him, gore and fur and all. The feel of his body wrapped around mine was indescribable. There were few moments of true happiness in life. This was one. I hugged him harder, enjoying every moment of touch.

“Get a room!” Juke growled.

We broke apart in time to see her jab the first lizard.

God, my head was about to split open.

“Where were you? What happened?” I carved a chunk out of another lizard’s face.

“I just took the kids to fight some ghouls,” Curran said.

Oh, so it was fine, then . . . Wait. “You did what?”

He kicked a lizard. It flew into the others like a cannonball. “I called Jim before we left the house to talk about ghouls, and he said they found some in the MARTA tunnels. So I grabbed the kids and did a little hunting.”

I would kill him. “Just so I get it right, Jim calls you and says, ‘Hey, we found a horde of ghouls in the MARTA tunnels,’ and your first thought was, ‘Great, I’ll take the kids’?”

“They had fun.” A careful note crept into his voice. Curran saw the shark fin in the water but wasn’t sure where the bite would be coming from.

“You even took the dog.”

Grendel chose that moment to try to shove past me. I shoved him back into the Guild and he began running back and forth behind us, growling.

“He had fun, too. Look at him. He’s still excited.”

Grendel stopped, shook, flinging blood from his fur, and resumed his orbit around us.

“I thought you had a poodle!” Juke said.

“He is a poodle.”

“That is not a poodle.”

“He transforms.” In times of crisis Grendel turned into an enormous black hound. Unfortunately, the transformation was governed by his strange canine brain, and sometimes he decided that the proper course of action in battle was to pee and roll in dead things instead.

A black lizard squeezed through the bodies and died before it could open its mouth, Alix’s arrow in its throat.

“Okay,” Juke said. “Your horse is a donkey, your poodle is a giant wolf breed, and your boyfriend is whatever the hell he is. You have problems.”

“Shut up,” I told her.

“He got to roll on some ghoul corpses,” Curran said. “He had a good time.”

That was hardly surprising. Grendel had a warped sense of personal hygiene.

“You’re an inconsiderate irresponsible ass.”

“Me?” Curran tore a lizard in half.

“You.”

Juke grinned.

“You wanted to make it personal. I made it personal. You want to talk about irresponsible?” Curran’s eyes sparked with gold. “You saw a giant ripping up a building and you ran into the building. And then you climbed onto the giant so you could poke him with your sword. What was the plan to get down off him? Did you learn to fly and didn’t tell me?”

“Don’t change the subject. I got a call from Seven Star Academy saying Julie didn’t make it to school. I couldn’t find her. I couldn’t find you.”

Juke snickered. “Shouldn’t have taken the kids with you, huh?”

“Stay out of this,” I told her, and pulled Sarrat out of a lizard’s body. “You made all these preparations and never once thought what would happen when I couldn’t find you or Julie. Would it have killed you to leave a note?”

Juke blinked, suddenly surprised.

“It takes twenty seconds. ‘Hi, Kate, taking the kids to fight some ghouls, be back by lunch.’” I waved my arms. “I thought you might be trapped in the Guild with Julie.”

“Why the hell would I be in the Guild with Julie?”

“Because you were supposed to go by here this morning and because I thought I heard her on the phone screaming for help.”

Curran spared me half a second of his hard stare. “Even if you thought I was in the Guild, what did you think I was doing while the giant was tearing it up? Did you think I was sitting on my hands?”

“I thought you might be injured.”

He looked at me. “We’ve met, you and I?”

I deliberately took a big step back.

“What?” he growled.

“I’m making room for your ego.”

“Fine. I should’ve left a note!”

“You should’ve.”

“Answer me this, did you hesitate at all or did you see the giant, go ‘Wheee!’ and run toward it?”

“She ran toward it,” Juke quipped.

“He was biting people in half.”

“I rest my case,” Curran said. “A note wouldn’t have made any difference.”

Note or not, I didn’t care. I was just happy he was alive.

The magic wave ended. The lizards fell as one.

The headache exploded in my skull as if someone had poured gasoline on my brain and set it on fire inside my head. Wetness slid from my ears and I realized it was blood.

“Kate?” Curran turned human in a blink.

“My head hurts.”

“I can’t understand you.” His face turned frantic. “What’s wrong?”

“My head hurts.” I knew I was saying it. I could hear my voice, I just couldn’t make out the words.

“Medic!” Curran roared.

The agony in my head drowned out all else. I sank to my knees and slid to the ground. The world went silent except for the pounding of my own pulse.

I OPENED MY eyes and instantly wished I hadn’t. The headache had grown sharp blades and stabbed them into my skull through my eyes.

The ceiling didn’t look familiar, but the smell in the air was. The exquisite aroma of disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, and that weird “medicine” flavor told me I was in a hospital. Also the IV in my arm and the blood pressure cuff were kind of a giveaway. My hand rested on the sheath of my saber. Someone had put my sword in bed with me.

Why did it hurt so much?

A soft voice tinted with a coastal Georgia accent drifted through my headache, that lowland genteel Southern dialect that refused to die out and swallowed consonants on the ends of words so “better” and “over” came out as “bettuh” and “ovuh.” Judging by the intonation in the voice, the doctor was in and not too happy.

What else was new? I had woken up like this to unfamiliar ceilings and upset medmages more times than I could remember. The only question was, which hospital had I ended up in this time?

I tilted my head on the pillow. The good doctor was sitting in a wheelchair talking to another patient or maybe his helper, I couldn’t really see. His voice was quiet and soothing, and I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. If I squinted, I could sort of read his lips. Intracranial hemorrhage. Something told me I should know what that meant.

He turned. Something stretched in my brain and I recognized his face in a flash of pain. Doolittle. Why didn’t I recognize his voice? Wait, if Doolittle was here, that meant we were in the Keep. We couldn’t be in the Keep. Our thirty days weren’t up. I opened my mouth to call out. No words came out.

Okay, if I couldn’t talk, I would sit up.

My back refused to obey. Panic pinched my breath. I felt my body, I felt my legs, my arms, even my fingers and toes. I could feel Sarrat’s sheath under my fingertips. I just couldn’t get them to move. My muscles were out of sync with my mind.

I was paralyzed.

No. No, no, no. I lived by my sword. I couldn’t be paralyzed. I couldn’t.

A word surfaced from somewhere within the recesses of my memory. Hemorrhage. Hemorrhage inside the skull was called intracranial. I knew this. I knew it was bad. I just couldn’t fight through the headache to what it meant.

A door swung open and a woman stuck her head in. “Doolittle?”

Doolittle turned his chair toward her and the look on his face said he would bite her head off if she were within reach. Serious business.

“Trisha asked if you could spare a minute for some paperwork.”

“If Trisha wants to see me, she can come down here.” His voice had a snap to it.

The woman withdrew and shut the door.

The other man said something I didn’t quite catch in an unfamiliar voice. I blinked, desperately trying to bring him into focus. Curran. What the hell was wrong with me?

“There is nothing I can do,” Doolittle answered, his voice stern. “The MRI showed multiple microbleeds. The small vessels inside her brain exploded. They sealed themselves almost immediately, which is why you’re not cradling a corpse right now, and her body began to magically heal, but the damage was done. She should be dead. If it were anybody else, they would be dead, but she is too damn stubborn to die. There is nothing I can do right now. Until the magic comes up, my only option is to manage the symptoms. I’m monitoring her blood pressure. I’m administering mannitol to keep the swelling under control and anticonvulsants so she doesn’t seize again. And I need to be doing all that and you need to be somewhere else. Did I not give you something to do?”

“What if she stops breathing again?”

“If her internal respiratory drive mechanism is affected, I will put her on a ventilator. Go away.”

Curran glanced at me. I blinked and then he was by my bed. “Kate. Baby.”

I still didn’t recognize his voice.

“Say something.”

I opened my mouth. No words came out.

“Curran,” Doolittle growled. “Move.”

Curran slid to the side, and Doolittle in his chair took Curran’s place.

“Can you hear me?” Doolittle asked, pronouncing the words slowly. “Blink once if yes.”

I blinked.

“Your MRI shows ruptures in multiple small blood vessels in your brain,” Doolittle said, his voice calm.

I was bleeding in my brain, I couldn’t move, I had difficulty talking. The symptoms lined up like links in a chain. I opened my mouth. Concentrate. You can do it. One sound at a time.

“S.”

I would make the goddamn word come out.

“St . . . stroke.”

Next to me Curran dragged his hand over his face.

“Yes,” Doolittle said. “You had a stroke. You had several microstrokes simultaneously.”

That’s me, the overachiever.

Doolittle squinted at me, his face somber. He usually appeared to be in his fifties, but he looked much older today, a tired black man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

I opened my mouth and concentrated on pronouncing a word. My voice was so weak. “P . . .”

They both leaned in, trying to hear me. I fought through the bout of pain, drawing a sharp breath.

“P . . . peachy.”

Curran exploded out of the chair, moving out of my view.

“That’s good,” Doolittle said, his expression somber.

I tried to squeeze my sword. I couldn’t do it. My hand rested right on it, because Curran must’ve put it there. He knew Sarrat would make me feel safe. But now I couldn’t even close my fingers around it.

I couldn’t hold my sword.

I wanted to go home. I had to go home right now. I needed to be out of this hospital bed.

A man stuck his head into the room. “Ariela is in labor.”

Doolittle pushed his chair to the door. “I will be right back. She’s confused and sedated. Don’t do anything to aggravate her. No stressful topics. Nothing that could potentially upset her. Less information is better at this point. Sam, stay right here and monitor her.”

A dark-haired man walked into the room and parked himself at the far wall.

I had to get out of here. Panic took my throat into a clawed hand and squeezed.

Curran blocked the light from the window. I felt his warm hand on mine.

“It will be okay,” he said, stroking my fingers. “It will be okay.”

I had to tell him that I had to go home.

“What is it?” Curran leaned closer to me.

“I don’t think you should encourage her to talk . . .” Sam started.

Curran turned to him. A gold light drowned his irises.

Sam’s mouth snapped shut. I heard his teeth click.

“What is it, baby?”

I finally squeezed the word out. “Home.”

A muscle in his face jerked. “No, baby. We can’t go home. Doolittle will take good care of you. You just have to hold on until the magic starts.”

“Home.”

“It will be okay.”

I had to make him understand.

“She’s getting too agitated,” Sam said.

“It will be fine,” Curran told me. “You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

My eyes felt wet. Curran’s face turned pale.

“Home.”

“We can’t go home right now. We’ll go as soon as you’re better.”

The wetness was running down my cheeks now in hot streaks. “Have to go home.”

Curran’s face was terrible. Pain twisted his mouth and he forced it down, his face calm again, but I knew. I saw it. If I made him understand, he would take me home.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered.

“Please,” I begged. “Please.”

“What’s so important about home?”

I opened my mouth. My voice was so weak. He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me to him.

“Want . . . to die at home.”

Shock slapped Curran’s face.

Doolittle made a screeching noise that sliced against my ears like a knife.

Curran let go of me.

“Get out,” Doolittle said, his voice icy.

Curran opened his mouth.

“Get out or I’ll have you removed from the Keep.”

Curran spun on his foot and stalked out.

Doolittle turned to Sam. “What did I say?”

“I know, but . . .”

“But?”

“He’s Curran,” Sam said, as if it explained everything.

“I don’t care if he is Curran. In your ward, you are god. Go.”

Sam fled. Doolittle wheeled the chair to me.

“Home,” I told him.

“That’s patently ridiculous. Nobody is going home.”

Cold rushed through my veins. Too late I saw Doolittle taking a syringe from the IV. Fatigue mugged me, threatening to drag me under.

I struggled to say the words. “Don’t want . . . to die . . . here.”

“You’re just insulting me now. Nobody is dying today, if I can help it.” Doolittle said. His voice faded, growing weaker and weaker. “You’re safe. Your maniac is just outside the door, watching over you. Rest now. Rest . . .”

I WOKE UP because someone was looking at me. The room was dim. My body felt heavy. I was so tired. All my systems were shutting down one by one. I couldn’t tell which symptoms came from the stroke, which from the sedative. I was lost and I couldn’t pull myself together.

The soft electric glow of a floor lamp illuminated a teenage girl sitting by my bed. She was pale and blond and, against that light backdrop, her huge brown eyes stood out like two dark pools.

She was important. She was vitally important to me.

Julie.

“Kate,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Kate?”

“Yes?” I managed.

“It’s me, Julie. Are you dying?”

I could tell she desperately wanted a different answer. “I love you.”

The expression on her face twisted something inside me.

I looked from her to Curran. “I love you so much. Both . . .”

“You can’t die.” She grabbed my hand. Tears swelled in her eyes. “You’re all I have. Kate, please. Please don’t die.”

My head hurt so much. I didn’t like that she was crying. I had to make her better. “It will be okay.”

“Kate, don’t leave me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair!”

The door swung open.

“Do I need to put a lock on this door?” Doolittle asked.

“Come on.” Curran appeared by the bed, took Julie by her shoulders, and gently but firmly pulled her away from my bed.

“Is she dying?” Julie pulled against him.

“She will be okay,” he told her.

“What if she won’t be? What if she—”

The door closing behind them cut off the rest of her words.

I’d never felt so helpless.

“Home,” I told Doolittle.

“Soon,” he promised.

Liar. I had to get out of here. I didn’t want to end my life in this hospital bed. I had spent too long without magic, and my body was giving out. I felt weaker and weaker. They had to take me home. I wanted to die in our house. “Too long . . .”

“You’ve only been in here a few hours. It feels longer because you keep waking up despite the sedative.”

“Julie.”

“Julie will be fine. You don’t have to worry about that right now,” he said. “Focus on healing. Rest.”

I WOKE UP to pain. My brain was slow and confused. My mouth tasted like medicine. I was so tired. I was sinking deeper and deeper into the murky water of pain and exhaustion. I knew the signs. My body was giving out. Why wouldn’t they just let me go home . . .

It was night and my room was quiet. Doolittle still sat in his chair, his paperback on his lap, his eyes closed. A hair-thin line of bright orange light marked the edge of the door—someone had failed to close it all the way. Quiet voices floated into the room. I had to strain to make out the words.

“What if she doesn’t pull through?”

Julie.

“She will.” Curran. His voice was rock steady, quiet, strong, reassuring.

“Ascanio said she might be paralyzed. He said she could get amnesia . . .”

A spark of the old me fought to the surface of the pain for a brief second. Damn it, could that kid not keep his mouth shut for once?

“Don’t listen to what that idiot says. Kate wouldn’t abandon her family. That’s not who she is and that’s not what she does.”

Which Kate are we talking about? Because the one in this bed didn’t have a choice.

“But what if she doesn’t?” Julie pressed. Her voice was trembling. “She isn’t acting like herself. She’s a fighter and she isn’t even fighting. Ascanio said he heard her say she wants to go home to die.”

If I got better, that bouda was going to regret it.

“Ascanio shouldn’t run his mouth,” Curran said. “Sometimes when people have head injuries, it changes who they are for a little while. She will be back to normal soon.”

And often that change was permanent. I’d killed a man who had turned into a violent sadistic drifter after suffering a fractured skull.

“I know it’s scary. But you have to trust Doolittle. She is under heavy sedation. She just isn’t herself right now,” Curran said. “When the magic comes, Doolittle will heal her.”

“What if she never comes home? What would I . . . I won’t have anybody . . .”

“You will have me. She will come home, but if she doesn’t, I will still be there,” Curran said. “We are family. You will always have a place in my house. I won’t abandon you. If something happens to me, Andrea and Raphael will step up. Derek will always be there for you. You have people, Julie. You are not alone.”

You are not alone . . .

Someone upstairs must’ve really hated me. I wanted to have people, too. I had wanted to hear those words for so long, and now, just after I’d had a small crumb of happiness, I was about to lose all of it over something so stupid. I had to get better. I had to get better now.

I clenched my teeth.

This wouldn’t end me. Not like this. Not right now. I would survive this.

I fought through the pounding in my head, trying to find something, anything, to pull me out of the cold murky depths to the surface. I just had to survive until the magic hit.

I would take anything. Any help, no matter how small.

I refused to sink. I would walk out of here. I would be with Curran again. I would see Julie grow up.

I want to survive.

I fought for it, trying to keep myself up, trying to reach the surface, but I kept sinking.

Something shifted deep inside me, an unidentified muscle clenched tight for too long relaxing in a flood of new ache, and then I felt it, a tiny hint of a current pushing me up. It was weak, oh so weak, but it was there. I wrapped myself in it and for a brief moment my addled brain recognized it for what it was: the city I’d claimed surrendering what little residual magic it had kept during the technology. The land I’d claimed was trying to keep me alive.

It wasn’t enough to lift me up. It was barely there, but it stretched to me. I felt the city breathing. It was filled with life. Tiny creatures squirming through the dirt, plants growing in the soil, ivy and kudzu climbing up the ruins, skittish things hiding in their burrows, predators crouching in the dark, people in their homes, all of them sacrificing a tiny crumb of the magic stored within their bodies. It hurt them, it was precious, yet still they gave it to me because I asked.

I stopped sinking.

“. . . GO BACK AND tell him that if he thinks he can dictate who I can and can’t treat, I quit,” Doolittle said. “And I won’t be coming back until hell freezes over.”

I opened my eyes. The room was still dimly lit. My head still hurt, but I was floating.

A woman stood next to Doolittle, her face obscured. Curran leaned against the other bed like a dark shadow. His arms were crossed on his chest. His eyes were glowing pale gold. Menace rolled off him, and the air in the room turned thick and tense.

“That’s not what the Beast Lord says. The law states that a retired alpha can’t be in the Keep during the time of separation. Which is why I brought down this paper.” The woman held the paper up to Doolittle. “This is an amendment to the Pack law code that gives you the right to treat patients who are not members of the Pack in the Pack’s facilities if you determine that their condition requires emergency treatment.”

“This is a hospital. I don’t need anyone’s permission to treat a patient.” Doolittle took the paper and read it.

The woman looked at Curran. “Curran.”

Curran’s face was grim. “Trisha. How did he manage to push that through? The Council wouldn’t stand for it.”

“They don’t know it’s for you,” Trisha said. “They went into session just before you got here, and Jim brought it up under the Cooperation Act, making a case that if there is an injured shapeshifter within Pack borders, there may not always be enough time to observe all proprieties. He bundled it with an addendum to the border policy, and they passed it without looking closely at it.”

“Smart,” Curran said.

“It’s Jim,” Trisha, said as if it explained everything. “Nobody except the personal guard knows you’re here. It will get out eventually, but the Council has left the Keep, so we bought you a few more hours. How is she?”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to be a focal point right now.

“Resting,” Curran said.

“Nasrin!” I heard Doolittle roll into the hallway. “I need a second opinion on this paper . . .”

“What will you do if she remains paralyzed?” Trisha asked quietly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Curran said.

He would. I knew he would. I opened my eyes.

“My aunt is quadriplegic,” she murmured. “It is extremely difficult. We could keep her here for you . . .” She caught herself. “Sorry.”

Excellent timing. Perhaps she should borrow one of my knives and stab him while she was at it.

Doolittle rolled back, the paper in his hand. “We signed it.”

Curran took it from his hand and gave it to Trisha. She took it.

“Did Jim need anything else?” Curran asked, his voice cold.

“No.” Trisha realized she was being dismissed. “Good luck.”

She turned around and walked out.

Curran looked at the closed door for a long moment.

“It’s okay,” Doolittle murmured, his voice soothing. “Come on. Let’s get you some tea . . .”

Curran shook his head.

“Stay right here,” Doolittle said, rolling to the door. “I’ll be right back with the tea.”

The door closed behind Doolittle. For a moment nothing happened, and then Curran’s pose shifted. Tension gripped his spine and his shoulders. He looked like a man backed into a corner, outnumbered and injured, resigned to his fate, but grimly determined to stand his ground. His face was neutral like a mask, but his eyes weren’t. They brimmed with pain and fear.

Oh, Curran.

It tried to bend him, and he wasn’t used to bending. He didn’t know how and he was fighting it, but whatever anxiety churned inside him now was slowly winning. It would drag him down and crush him. All of his power, will, and explosive strength meant nothing and he knew it. He looked like a man at the deathbed of someone he loved.

That someone was me. I put him through this.

I wasn’t even that lovable to begin with. I was a selfish ass, but somehow something I did made this man love me, deeply and without reservation. He knew things about me that I would die to keep secret. I trusted him more than I trusted anyone in my life. I mattered to him. He was suffering and I wanted it to stop. I wanted to see him happy. I loved him so much.

I meant to tell him that if he chased Trisha down and brought her back here, I’d punch her in the arm for him. I managed one word. “Bitch.”

He pushed off from the bed against which he leaned. All signs of worry vanished from him. He forced a neutral expression onto his face. My Beast Lord.

“Come,” I whispered.

He came over to my bed.

“Closer . . .”

He leaned in closer.

It took all of my will. I lifted my hand and punched his jaw. It was the saddest punch on the planet. My fingers barely grazed his stubble and then my arm gave out and fell back on the bed.

Curran blinked.

“You looked sad,” I explained.

“Is this you trying to cheer me up?”

“What are you . . . going . . . to do about it?” I asked. “Your Wussiness?”

He touched his index finger to my forehead. His voice was rough. “Tap. You’re out, Ass Kicker.”

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re in here punching each other and playing grab-ass,” Doolittle said from somewhere in the room. “I expect this from you, Kate, because you have no sense, but you, you should know better. Roughhousing in the hospital. Drink your tea.” Doolittle thrust one of the glasses at Curran.

Curran obediently took the glass and drained it.

“The tea was a lie,” I told him quietly.

He nodded. “He spikes it with a sedative.”

So he knew and drank it anyway. “What kind of a sedative takes down . . . a shapeshifter?”

“I don’t know.” Curran’s face was relaxing. He sat on my bed, moving very carefully. “He won’t tell me.”

“He needs it,” Doolittle said. “He hasn’t slept since you got here.”

“You get your tea through your IV,” Doolittle told me.

“No more tea. It makes me loopy and sad.”

“I would be most appreciative if you refrained from telling me how to do my job. If I need some guidance on how to best skewer something twenty times my size and get myself nearly dead in the process, I’ll ask you. There is only one medmage in this room, and since I am that medmage, I’ll decide what medicine to administer and when. And for your information, it is your head injury that is the culprit, not the sedative.”

“Bummer.”

I felt oddly light and sleepy.

“Lie with me,” I whispered.

Curran stretched out next to me. Our arms were touching. The smell of him drifted over, so familiar and comforting.

Curran’s fingers held my hand, his thumb gently stroking my skin. I recalled the way he tasted. The feel of his body on mine. The weight of it. The strength of the arms wrapped around me. His eyes. The way he looked at me . . .

“Stay with me, Kate,” he said.

“I will,” I promised.