“Something that shouldn’t exist!” he snarled, his green irises flickering to storm-cloud gray.
I snatched a UV penlight from the dissection tray. The beam revealed thin black veins spidering beneath his skin.
“See?See?” I gestured wildly, and Koa used the distraction to get Cas in a side headlock. I grinned as I held up the glass vial. “Open wide, princess.”
“Bite me!” Cas tried to twist free. Golden strands escaped his ponytail, sticking to the sweat-slicked column of his throat.
“Section eight, paragraph four of our protocols—”
“Don’t quote my own moon-damned manual at me!”
“—states any foreign curse resisting natural purification requires immediate intervention.” Ko’s forearm flexed against Cas’ windpipe. “Or do I need to fetch our beloved to hold your hand throughbasic field medicine?”
Casimir froze. Three seconds passed before his jaw unclenched with an audible pop.
“Fine. But if Zane spills one drop of that gutter sludge on my boots…”
“Relax, Cas.” I uncorked the mistletoe tincture with my teeth. “You’ve had worse tasting things in your mouth.”
Just as he drew breath to snap back, I tipped the potion in his mouth, triggering a glorious symphony of gagging.
“Swallow or wear it,” I sing-sang as I held the vial vertical until every drop went down his throat.
“Happy now, mother hens?” He convulsed, Adam’s apple bobbing violently.
“Just getting started. Layer two,” Ko growled.
“No,” Cas gasped, his fingers denting the exam table.
“Yes.”
“It’s excessive.”
“Your body is hosting a mutating curse. Excessive left the stables twenty minutes ago. Zane, the level seven grimoire.”
Saluting, I kicked open a nearby footlocker and started looking around.
“Remind me again why we alphabetized everything by threat level instead of name?”
“Becausesomeonekept mistaking grimoires for glow sticks,” Casimir gritted out. Sweat dripped from his chin as shivers racked him.
“Festive explosives are a valid defense strategy!”
“Page forty-two,” Ko bit out. “And don’t improvise the Latin this time. He doesn’t need turned into a cat or pink hair right now.”
“Where’s the fun in—”
Casimir seized my wrist, lightning running up my arm in a jolt that tasted like burnt marshmallows and made my nose hairs curl.
“The. Exact. Words.”
“Only because your blood’s doing the mambo with enough juice to fry a jumbo jet.” I flipped to the earmarked page with exaggerated care.
“Hold still.” Ko already had a scalpel poised over Casimir’s forearm. “Or this’ll hurt me way more than it’ll hurt you.”
“Just open the vein, Doctor Killpatient!” Cas snapped.
“Remember Algeria?” Ko smirked. “That time the blood ward exploded in your face?”
