“Sure,” he said, his voice giving out on him. “Let me know when. Any time.”
I thought he drifted off after that. When I turned to check, his eyes were closed.
A few minutes later, an old red van turned up onto the dirt road. Pamela rolled down the window and waved. “Hey you,” she called out, as she brought the vehicle to a stop. “Need a ride?”
I grinned. I hadn’t know her for very long, but she and her grandfather, along with some local werewolves, had joined forces with me and Lula, and Brogan, to save the rabbit-who-was-not-a-rabbit.
Pamela and Josie had been a huge part of us surviving that encounter with evil.
“Hey,” I said, coming to the window. “Thanks for this. I guess I could have called an Uber or something, but I wasn’t sure what shape either of us would be in once we got here.”
“Sure. So who’s the hottie?” Pamela had brown hair cut in a bob she’d pulled back in a clip. Her freckles were sun darkened against her pale skin, and her eyes were blue and inquisitive.
She had a good smile.
“Just a...friend from a long time ago,” I said.
“Friend, huh?” Josie leaned over the center console to get in Pamela’s space and look out the window. She was almost Pam’s opposite, dark skin and brown curly hair. Her eyes, though, were just as curious. “What’d you do? Drag him through a mudslide?”
“Naw, he fell out of a tree. Can you help me get him in the van?”
“Oh, crap,” Pamela said. “Of course. Is he hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said. To my utter surprise, he levered upward slowly, using the apple tree as a prop.
Sitting there with the tree had given him back some strength. He was still too pale and looked like he was going to barf at any moment, but he was standing.
“Ta-da,” he said softly, that ghost of a smile for me.
I clapped a few times, nice and slow. “Is the encore you walking over here on your own, or do you want a hand?”
He took a step, blew out a breath, and took another. “I’ll get there.”
“At the pace you’re going you’ll reach the van next spring.”
“But I’ll get there,” he panted.
I strode over to him. Pamela was already out of the van and step-in-step with me.
We got on either side of him, and I thought he was going to put up a fuss. But I could feel the tremor of exhaustion rolling through him as I wrapped my arm around his waist. He seemed grateful to put his arm around my hips, hooking his fingers into my sword belt.
Pamela made encouraging sounds, Josie got the door open, and we guided him to the back bench seat where he lay on his back, feet braced on the arm rest, knees bent. He kept assuring us he was fine, but by the time I’d settled on the center bench, and Pamela had taken her place behind the wheel, he was out cold.
“How bad is it?” Josie asked, digging in the small cooler between the front seats. She drew out a bottle of water and a Pepsi.
I took the Pepsi. “You are a saint.”
She smiled. “We have First-Aid stuff too. Or should we swing by the nearest clinic for your boy there?”
“Not my boy,” I said, after taking a long swallow, the sugar and caffeine spiking through my system.
“Right,” Pamela said. “Remember, Josie? She said he was a friend from a long time ago.”
“Right,” Josie said. “Past friend. Sure. That’s why you look so worried about him.”
“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about the mess he’s dragged me into.”
They were both silent for a minute. Josie opened her mouth, but Pamela reached over and touched her wrist.
