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 ce
ilings 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.