Lu motioned me toward the back while she took the front passenger seat.
I ducked into the verdant green of root and frond, and ignored the subtle song, something happy, something welcoming, as if a friend had returned. I settled in the back corner where I could keep an eye on Hado, the sleeping Abbi, and also Lula, and the druid who were both watching the road ahead.
The letter opener in my pocket was hard enough to be uncomfortable, so I shifted my hip. I wondered why Lu hadn’t said anything about it. She had always treated it like it was much more dangerous than it seemed. Maybe she hadn’t noticed I was carrying it. Or maybe she approved I did.
Abbi had told me to take a sword to the meeting with the seer, Miss Woodbury, and I wasn’t fool enough to ignore that sort of advice.
“I’d like you to sit.”Dr. Ladd’s tone was just as kind as the first time he’d said the same thing four or five repeats ago. “Otherwise, this will not be comfortable for any of us.” It could have sounded like a threat, if he hadn’t been saying it so much, his warning had become amused interest.
The problem was there was too little examination room, and far too many of us. Hado had refused to shrink down to kitten size, and was full brute—nearly seven feet of muscle with a deadly scowl.
Abbi remained child size, still wrapped in the heavy wool healing blanket. She stood next to Hado, holding his hand like she’d just found him in a crowded train station and wasn’t ever going to let go.
Lu stood near the door, glaring like she expected to have to tear apart this tiny examination room with her bare hands to escape. I was eyeing the low table with a healthy dose of distrust.
“It will hold someone your size,” Dr. Ladd said. “And it’s easier for me if you’re on my level, so if everyone would sit down, it will improve my ability to take care of all of you.”
“Only Brogan,” Lu said from the door.
“If I get checked over, you get checked over.” I had lost the argument on which of us would get into one of those paper napkin robes, and currently stood there feeling like a giant sore thumb sticking out in the small room.
Well, fuck it. Time to swallow my own advice. I bent, more stiffly and awkwardly than I’d hoped because of the damn ankle and every other bruise and strain, and dropped into place.
Dr. Ladd was gray-haired, and had what anyone might describe as an actual twinkle in his eyes. He was heavier in the shoulders, shorter in the arms, and about three and a half feet tall.
There had been a lot of names for people of his height over the years, but I was pretty sure the best to describe him was “doctor”.
“Progress,” he said happily. “Lawrence filled me in on the nature of your injuries. You were in a car accident in the flash flood. A rollover.” He was doing the things all doctors did: checking my blood pressure, clipping my finger with an oxygen measuring device, listening to my lungs and telling me to take deep breaths.
“Smoke inhalation,” he said, “isn’t anything to mess around with. I’m glad you came in.” He draped his stethoscope around his neck. “I don’t think you’ve done permanent damage, but your lungs are irritated. Let’s look at your eyes next.”
He shone a light in my eyes, held up one finger, and told me to look here and there. I had no idea if I passed the test because his fingers were blurry and I couldn’t tell how many he was waving in front of my face, but before I could tell him he was making me sick to my stomach, he had already moved around to the back of my head and was pressing on my skull.
I winced, but tried not to make any noise.
“Almost done here. Let me check your foot.”
When changing into the paper robe, I’d asked for a damp towel. I’d done what I could to clean the road grime off of my foot, but after all the cussing I’d gone through to get my boot off without passing out from the pain, the foot cleaning had been quick rather than thorough.
Dr. Ladd didn’t seem to care about the cleanliness, but focused on manipulating my foot, asking where it hurt, and probing around the bruises.
“Sprained, not broken, so you won’t need a cast.”
“Good,” I said, relieved.
“It’s going to take some time to heal, though. It will heal faster if you stay off of it.”
I made what I thought was an agreeable sound, but it didn’t fool him for a moment.
“You’ll wear a brace, and only take it off at night when you sleep. Let’s look at those ribs. Just draw the dressing gown down to your waist.”
I did so and grunted at the ache that rolled down my back.
He nodded, taking in the massive bruises I was surprised to see.
“Most people don’t feel the minor injuries until hours after the accident. Adrenaline, shock, masks the smaller stuff. Does this hurt?” He pressed on my left side.
I shook my head.
