"Oh, I trust you...in ways. I trust you not to run off with some other guy. Trust you not even to think about running off with another guy. Trust you to watch my back in a fight. Trust you to watch my back more than your own, no matter how much I tell you otherwise. Trust you not to smother me in my sleep. But do I trust that you'd never throw me off this balcony, no matter how much I pissed you off? Uh-uh. I'm not stupid."
"More a lack of complacency than a lack of trust, then."
"Exactly."
I laughed and leaned over the railing. "It's only three floors down. You wouldn't die."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
When I didn't answer, he growled, scooped me up and kissed me, teeth nipping my lip. I groaned and pressed into him...well, pressed the protruding part of my body into him, which really wasn't all that sexy.
"Damn," I muttered. "Even making out is getting tough."
"Just a matter of ingenuity. And repositioning."
He hoisted me up, putting my legs around his waist, and my arms around his neck, then moving against the railing. With his hands behind my back, he leaned me over the edge. I turned my head to look down at the cars passing below.
"You trust me?" he said.
I met his eyes. "Absolutely."
He leaned over and kissed me hard. Still awkward, but after about three seconds, I forgot that. I tried to forget too how much more fun this would be without the clothing barrier. That one was tougher, but you take what you can get, and this was pretty damned fine, feeling him hard against me, tasting him, hearing his low growl of--
A deep sigh. "Figures."
I glanced over to see Nick carrying an ice bucket of drinks and an armful of snacks.
"Don't ask me to leave," he said. "You have sex in public, you get an audience." He squinted over at us. "You're...still dressed. Great method of contraception, buddy, but I think it's a bit late."
Clay pressed his lips to my ear as he straightened me up. "You have my permission to throw him off the balcony."
Nick continued, "Elena getting shy in her maternity? Won't let you do it in public anymore?"
"It's not in public." Clay lowered me from the railing. "It's in a public place. There's a difference."
"Hey, if you were working up to the clothing-ripping part, go right ahead. I'll just sit back and enjoy the show. I have snacks and everything."
"Unfortunately, until this is over," I said, waving at my stomach, "making out is all you're going to see."
"You mean you can't have--?" He sputtered a laugh. "Damn, that's tragic."
I looked at Clay and jerked my chin toward the railing. "You want to take his arms or legs?"
"Oh, come on," Nick said. "So you can't have sex for a while. No big deal. Even I've gone without sex for a few weeks."
"Four months," I said.
Nick looked up from his lounger. "What?"
"If I go to term, I have four months left."
"Four...?" He looked from Clay to me. "Good luck with that."
Clay smacked the top of his head as he walked over to pull out the second lounger and motioned for me to join him on it.
"Better make sure it doesn't have a weight restriction first," Nick said.
I seconded Clay's smack.
Nick rubbed the top of his head. "Hey, don't take it out on me. I'm not getting any either. Of course, I'll be home soon, and then that'll change, unlike some of us..."
He ducked before either of us could smack him again. I settled in beside Clay. As I laid my head back onto Clay's shoulder, my cheek brushed his.
"You're warm," I said, lifting a hand to his forehead.
"Better than being cold. Got enough dead people wandering around this city."
"I'm serious. You're..." I tried with my other hand. "No, I guess it's not too bad. I'll get Jeremy to check you before bed. He should have another look at your arm too."
"Sounding more like a mother every day," Nick said. "Scary."
Medical
I DREAMED THAT THE PORTAL CAUSED A CITYWIDE BLACKOUT, and I was down in the PATH system, running through the hot, stuffy corridors, searching for the bathroom while the bowler-hatted zombie chased me, and I couldn't fight him when I had to pee so badly I could hardly see straight.
Then I awoke, sweating and clawing at the heavy covers. Sunlight seeped through the crack between the drawn drapes. Nick was sleeping against my back, his hand on my rear. I realized I did have to use the bathroom. Badly. A quick look around reassured me that the zombie part of the dream, at least, had been imaginary.
I wriggled out of the tangle of limbs. As I climbed over Clay, I felt the waves of heat coming off him. He gave a low moan, almost too low to hear. Then his arm flew out, narrowly missing my head.
I scrambled up and turned on the bedside lamp. Clay's color was high, the hair around his face plastered down with sweat.
Nick lifted the pillow from his head. "Wha--?"
"I'm getting Jeremy."
I pulled on my pants, then grabbed the nearest shirt--Clay's--and yanked it on as Nick rose from the bed, still blinking back sleep.
"Elena."
Clay lifted his head from the pillow.
"I'm okay," he said. "Just the fever coming back."
He started to sit up, then stopped and wobbled, face going ashen with the sudden movement.
"I'm getting--" I began.
"No, let Nick."
Nick nodded and brushed past me, scooping up his pants. I hesitated, then nodded and grabbed the bucket of melted ice water as Nick went to get Jeremy.
I was mopping icy water onto Clay's forehead when Jeremy got there, his feet bare and his shirt undone. Clay started to sit up, but I pushed him back down, and he settled for rolling his eyes at Jeremy.
"She's overreacting," he said. "I have a fever. Just let me pop some Tylenol--"
Jeremy popped something else in his mouth--a thermometer. Clay grunted and sank back onto his pillow with a martyred "I'm surrounded" look.
"How high is it?" I asked when Jeremy checked.
"High."
Clay started to reach for the Tylenol, but Jeremy shook his head. He dumped the capsules into his own hand, and held them to Clay's lips. Clay rolled his fever-bright eyes at me, then opened up and let Jeremy tend to him.
Nick returned with a fresh bucket of ice, and I wrapped some in my wet towel.
"Enough," Clay growled. "Give the pills a chance to kick in."
Jeremy was checking Clay's arm.
"How bad--?" I began.
"Do you have the number for that doctor?" Jeremy asked quietly. "The sorcerer you met the other day?"
"I don't need--" Clay began.
"It's your right arm, so we aren't taking any chances." He glanced at me. "Get the number, Elena."
I called Zoe. The phone rang five times. When the machine answered, I hung up and hit redial. This time, she grabbed it on the second ring.
"Hello, there," she said before I could say anything. "About time you called. I was beginning to feel--"
"I need Randall Tolliver's number," I said quickly.
A pause. "Are you okay?"
"It's Clay. His arm. It's--"
"We'll be right there. Tell me where you are."
When Tolliver arrived, he cleared Antonio and Nick out of the room, and only let Jeremy stay when it was clear he wasn't leaving. I couldn't blame Tolliver for not wanting an audience of supernatural strangers hovering over him, making sure he did his job right.
"It's infected," he said, after a quick examination.
"How badly?" I asked.
A nervous glance my way, as if I might pounce if I didn't like his answer. "It's...progressing."
"Gangrene?" Clay said, pushing himself up.
A look crossed Jeremy's face, and I knew he'd been wondering the same thing.
"Gangrene?" I said. "No, it can't be, not from a scratch. That's all it was. A scratch."
"From a decomposing corpse raised by supernatural means,"
Jeremy said.
"Which likely explains the acceleration and the refusal to respond to cleaning," Tolliver said. "But it isn't gangrenous. Not..." A glance my way, and he shut his mouth.
"Yet," Clay finished for him.
A slow nod from Tolliver. "We should still be able to get it under control. Stronger antibiotics is one way to go. Or we can remove some of the infected tissue. The latter would be more likely to work, but would cause scarring--"
"I don't care about looks," Clay cut in. "Just function."
Tolliver hesitated. "It's...in a bad spot. If I needed to go deep, it might damage the muscle. It shouldn't have any lasting effect on fine motor skills, like writing."
"It's larger motor skills I'm worried about."
Tolliver nodded, as if this didn't surprise him.
"If it would stop the spread of infection--" Jeremy began.
"Last resort," Clay said.
He met Jeremy's glance with a look that said he'd give in if pushed, but begged Jeremy not to push. I knew what Clay was thinking. If mutts found out Clay was no longer in peak fighting form, there'd be trouble.
Clay met my eyes. "Rather not take that risk." His gaze dropped to my stomach. "Not now. Antibiotics will be fine."
"Do you know what can happen if gangrene sets in?" Jeremy asked.
Clay nodded. "It'll have to come off."
"Off--?" I sputtered. "What will have to come off?"
I knew the answer, but my brain refused to process it. That couldn't be what they meant, not with Clay so calm and decisive, as if they were discussing cutting off his hair.
"And even that might not work," Jeremy said, his gaze locked with Clay's.
"Are we talking about--?" My voice squeaked and I couldn't finish the sentence. "From a scratch? It's just a scratch!"
Clay reached for me, but I backed away.
"That is what we're talking about, right?" I said. "Losing his arm? Losing his--his life?"
"No, no," Jeremy said, coming toward me, face stricken. "I didn't mean--"
I turned to face Tolliver. "That is what they mean, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Clay said, pushing himself up. "That's what we mean, darling. Jeremy's talking worst-case scenario, just so I know what could happen. It's me he's trying to spook, not you."
Jeremy waved me over to sit down. "I didn't mean to scare you. You don't need that, not now. I'm sorry. I only wanted--"
"It's okay," I cut in, cheeks heating. "Of course, I know that could happen with a bad infection. Amputation, I mean. But I didn't think--everything seemed fine--"
"It will be fine," Clay said. "If antibiotics can still fix this, then I want to let it play out a bit longer. Keep an eye on it. If things get worse? I'll take the surgery. I lose some function? I'll compensate. But unless we're at a critical stage already, I don't want to jump into that."
He glanced at Jeremy, waiting for his verdict, but Tolliver beat him to it.
"It's not critical yet. I'll dress it and give you some antibiotics. If that doesn't clear it up in twenty-four hours, we'll move to debridement--removing the damaged tissue."
We looked over at Jeremy. He hesitated, then nodded.
"Good," Clay said. "Let's get me cleaned up, dosed up and ready to go."
When Tolliver finished, he checked Clay's temperature.
"The Tylenol seems to have knocked the fever," he said. "At the very least, the antibiotics should slow the infection." He glanced at Jeremy. "Is that normal? For your kind? Susceptibility to infection or swift progression once it sets in? I know accelerated healing is a hallmark--"
He cut himself off. Jeremy stayed stone-faced.
Tolliver started repacking his bag. Without looking up, he continued. "I should probably keep my mouth shut and pretend I haven't figured out what you are. But as a doctor, it would help to know what I'm dealing with." Before anyone could answer, he shook his head. "No, I do know what I'm dealing with, so I'm going to take the chance and admit it. After I saw you with Zoe the other day, I had my suspicions. I've...heard things. I made some inquiries, more to confirm the council connection than to confirm who--or what--you were."
"Accelerated infection isn't normal for us," Jeremy said.
"It's connected to the zombie then. I don't have any experience with their kind, and my experience with werewolves isn't much broader. I ran into one of you a few years back, in Europe, and helped him recover from an injury...though it wasn't help freely given."
"I hope you know it's not like that this time," Jeremy said. "If Zoe gave that impression--"
"She didn't."
"I fully intend to pay you for your time, as much as you'd charge for any emergency call, and whatever extra is appropriate for asking you to be available, on call, should the problem worsen."
Tolliver shook his head and hefted his bag onto the bed. "That's not necessary. I know you're trying to fix this portal mess, so consider this my contribution to the cause."
He fingered the straps on his bag. "I may be able to do more. I would have called later today. I have an idea where Patrick is hiding."
"Where?"
"I'd prefer to check it out myself. Patrick and I may not be close these days, but I still consider him a friend. If he's going to be brought in for questioning, I'd like to do it myself."
We looked at each other.
"That may not be the best idea," Jeremy said slowly. "We think he might have a larger role in all this than simply owning the letter."
"If you knew Patrick--Well, it's unlikely he has any involvement in this. But, as I've admitted, we're no longer close, so I have to also admit that I may be mistaken. What I'm asking is that you allow me to bring him to a location I deem safe, with myself present at all times--including during questioning--to ensure that he has a representative there, and everything proceeds as it should."
I bristled. "Proceeds as it should? If you're suggesting we're going to work this guy over--"
Jeremy cut me short. "If we saw clear evidence that Patrick Shanahan is responsible for this portal, and refused to help us close it, then we would indeed exercise methods of persuasion. No one's arguing that. People have disappeared, one person has died and more are at risk. We'll do what we need to, within reason, to close this portal."
He stared hard at Tolliver, who finally dropped his eyes and nodded.
"Understood. If I can find Patrick, he's yours--so long as I'm present for the questioning."
Before Tolliver could leave, Jeremy said, "There's one other thing I'd like you to do. A brief examination." He nodded toward me.
"I'm fine. The baby's kicking and--"
"Let him take a look," Jeremy said, then lowered his voice so Tolliver couldn't overhear. "You'll feel better with a second opinion."
Tolliver checked me out, then asked, "How far along are you?"
"About twenty-three weeks," Jeremy answered.
Tolliver blinked, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose that wouldn't be unexpected. What's a wolf's gestation period?"
"Nine weeks," Jeremy said.
Tolliver took a tape from his bag, did a few measurements, asked me some questions, then leaned back on his heels. "Everything looks fine. This is the time, though, when you really need to be careful. I know, under the circumstances, easier said than done, but you're well into your third trimester, or the equivalent of it."
"Th-third trimester?"
"It's impossible to tell for certain, but I've handled prenatal obstetrics at a few shelters, often with women who aren't quite sure how far along they should be. I'd estimate you only have a few weeks left to go, but you're healthy, and they're doing fine--"
"Th-they?"
"The babies."
I swung an accusing glare at Jeremy. "Babies?"
Jeremy rubbed at a small smile. "I thought I detected more than one heartbeat, but I didn't want to say anything until I was sure. All things considered, a multiple birth wouldn't be unexpected..."
"Multiple? How...multiple?"
"Two,"
Jeremy said quickly. He looked anxiously at Tolliver. "It is just two, isn't it?"
Tolliver nodded.
"So I'm having...twins. We're having--"
I looked around for Clay. He was out of bed and standing at my shoulder, grinning.
"News to you too?" I said.
He only nodded, still grinning, then pulled me into a hug. When I didn't return the embrace, he looked down at me, eyes dimming.
"That's okay, isn't it? It'll be extra work, but--"
"It's okay," I said as my heart thumped double-time. "Just...I think I need to sit down."
Clay sat me on the bed while Jeremy grabbed juice from the minifridge. Tolliver probably thought we were all mad, but had the grace to just wait without comment.
Finally Jeremy asked, "But everything is all right, isn't it? With the pregnancy? No obvious problems?"
"Nothing I can see. My only concern would be the timing. The less stress she has now, and the sooner you can get her home--" He stopped. "But I'm sure you know that already, which is why you're so anxious to end this business. With twins, the possibility of early labor increases." He looked at me. "Do you know the signs of labor?"
"We do," Jeremy and Clay said, almost in unison.
I gave a small laugh. "They'll fill me in."
Missing
JEREMY INSISTED ON WALKING TOLLIVER OUT. AFTER PROMISING Clay I'd stick close to Jeremy, I tagged along, using the excuse of grabbing breakfast so I could speak to Jeremy without Clay overhearing.
When we reached the lobby, Tolliver stopped to answer his cell phone, and we stepped aside to give him privacy.
"I can see Antonio from here," Jeremy murmured to me. "Go get something to eat. I'll see Dr. Tolliver off."
My cell phone buzzed. Rita calling to say that she'd confirmed Lyle Sanderson's disappearance.
"Three people missing from one neighborhood," she said. "Something's going on. When I mentioned it in the newsroom, we laid bets on how long it takes someone to connect these disappearances to our dead girl from last night."
I stopped walking. "You think there's a link?"
"Hell, no. I'm taking criminology classes at the uni--figured it can't hurt, right?--and from everything I've learned there, and working here, I can't imagine a connection. On the one hand, you have people disappearing without a trace. No letters or calls to the press. Not even ransom notes. Then you've got this ballsy SOB who not only displayed his work in public, but did it within screaming distance of people. You could argue that he killed the others and didn't enjoy it enough, so he went public, but that's a big step to take so quickly. My opinion, at least."