There was a time when we couldn’t shift from Puma to another form in daylight, but the half-form had given us options. Sometimes. Like when the moon was more full than not. Or when Beast was well fed and in the mood to shift. But today, we had shifted twice with insufficient calories, and we were injured. We whined, closed our nose flaps and ducked our head under water. The pain was beyond description. Cold water and over-the-counter medical supplies were not going to be enough.
Shift?I thought at my Beast.
Can try. Am starving. Like in Hunger Times.
Inside us, I felt her reach out and tug, gently, on our magics. They rose, tattered, and holed where Angie had used them. But there, and there, were small patches of silver skinwalker magics. We gathered the magics and I pulled onle breloque, wherever it was.
Pain like a tornado formed of razor blades and barbed wire wrapped around us. We were caught up in it. Sliced and torn. Mercifully, everything went dark.
***
I woke in bed, snuggled into something so soft it was like the love child of silk velvet and goose down. The lights were low, the silence so deep I could hear my heartbeat.
Someone’s arms held me; Bruiser’s scent wrapped around me, identifying the man. My Consort. I tried to speak and managed only a ragged cough. He eased me upright into a sitting position and moved around the bed, offering me a bottle of fluid, pink. Electrolyte stuff.
I took it in a skeletal hand and drained it. “Thanks,” I whispered. I touched my torso, my bony fingers finding ribs like a washboard and sharp hip bones. I still had most of the muscle I had gained when I took mass from the street, but without the fat I had worked so hard to put on. “Well, that sucked,” I managed, my voice so rough it sent me into a coughing fit.
When it passed, his hand stroked down my hair, coiling it on my shoulder, and down my bare back. His hand was warm, and my skin was icy, as if I’d been outside, naked, in a snowstorm. “Can you eat?” he asked.
I wanted to ask about Eli and Angie, but when I opened my mouth, fear caught me. I couldn’t speak the words. Cautiously, I rolled down and lay flat, saying, “I better start with something easy. Broth?” I met his beautiful eyes, which were full of worry and things he didn’t want to say either. I batted away a sheen of tears. “And eggs?”
Bruiser called the kitchen and I heard Deon’s voice answer with, “What does our Queenie girl want? I will make her anything.”
Bruiser repeated my request, and then added, “I imagine she will need something meatier soon after.”
“I already made eggy soup with my world-famous wine-bone-stock. On my way up. Oh. And you tell our Queenie her Thanksgiving spread is going to be outstanding. I have twenty-four turkeys on order, and that’s just for starters.” The connection ended.
Thanksgiving. Right. A holiday that would be totallydifferent this year because I’d still have very important vamps in the city after the coronation, and I’d have to deal with a changing political structure and... the DQ would have to entertain.
“Help me get dressed?” I asked with a smile that felt all wrong. “I don’t want to blind Deon with my scrawny femaleness.”
“You didn’t lose your muscle tone, only all the softness of the scant fat you had accumulated. And besides, my love, you are beautiful. You will always be beautiful.” His voice sounded of truth, which could only be love talking, because the mirror in the corner showed me that I was nothing but dried-out flaky skin stretched over bones and muscle and dry, nearly crispy hair. Bruiser went to my closet, bringing back undies and stretchy yoga-style pants and a velour tunic that would probably hang on me. Silent, he helped me dress and was braiding my hair when a knock sounded and Deon entered.
“Girl, you look like death warmed over three times.” Deon set up a tray on the small table in the corner and pulled it close to the bed. My mouth watered at the incredible aromas that filled the room. He took my wrist,tsking at the bones pushing against my skin, and placed a bottle with an oversized straw in it into my hand. “Suck it down,” he said, “like a baby. This is the fastest way to get calories and protein into you.”
I took a sip and the most amazing flavor of eggy soup filled my mouth. I drank it down fast and handed back the empty. Deon placed another in my hand, saying, “This one has extra yolks stirred in it, if you can keep it down.” There were five more bottles on the tray. I emptied them all, strength flowing into me from the marrow and joint protein, the raw eggs he whisked into the boiling broth just before serving, and the sugars from the bottle of wine Deon cooked into his bone stock. When I finished the last bottle, I was stuffed so full I was nearly drowning. I said, “This stuff is heaven,” and tried to hide a burp. I wasn’t successful.
“Of course, it is, Queenie. Because I made it full of love, and because I ampure magicin a kitchen.”
“I love you too, you wonderful, weird little man. And yes, you are. Now head on back to your personal fiefdom and sear me a steak, heavy on the fat.”
Deon picked up my hand and kissed the back of it. Casually, he said, “I’d die for you, you know.” He turned and left my quarters.
My mouth was hanging open. “What did he just say?”
The corners of Bruiser’s lips lifted just a hair. “Deon says you saved his life when Katie left and you gave him a job as your personal cook. He had lived hard before that, on the streets from time to time, then as a blood donor and sex toy before he took over the kitchens at Katie’s. Then she left for Atlanta, left her people with no one to care for them. You gave them all a new life with a future when you offered them a place in your clan. And then you brought Deon to HQ and put him in charge of the kitchens. He has a home, a job he loves, and people who accept him, even love him. He really would die for you.”
“Oh,” I said. “Ummm. Oh. Crap. Let’s make sure he never has to, okay?” I pulled the soft blanket back over me. “I think I can handle it now. Update, please.”
“Enter,” Bruiser called out.
Alex, laden with tablets and a laptop, opened the door, looked at me once, and averted his eyes. He put his electronics on the table, pulled out a chair, and sat before looking at me again. I had a feeling he wasn’t happy with the way I looked. The flaky skin and dry-as-straw hair had to have been a shock.
“Eli is alive,” he said to Bruiser and me. “So is Angie. So is Wrassler.”
I had expected bad news. The relief was so intense that I nearly threw up the broth and eggs. I pressed down on my belly, hoping to keep the food down. This time, there was no stopping the tears that rolled down my cheeks. That meant the fluid had gone a long way to hydrating me. “Okay. Go on.”
“Florence’s travel coffin was undamaged,” he said. “We chose not to open it until dusk because she’d been banged around so much she might be pissed and we might damage her if we had to defend ourselves against her.She’s in a secure location at HQ, under guard. There were injuries among the team on the way here, and outside when Angie detonated the bomb carried by the drone. They are being attended to. No deaths. Thema and Kojo waked other Mithrans to assist in our people’s healing. No Mithran resisted them, and the injured security personnel will all recover.” A ghost of a grin passed across his lips. “Apparently those two scared the Mithrans into helping.”
