All of the guys tense, and I realize that a fever back in their time could be a death sentence.
“The spear you were stabbed with was filthy,” I add, and stand, gathering up the first aid supplies and pushing them aside. “Go upstairs and lie down,” I tell him. I have leftover antibiotics from the last time I had a sinus infection. I started feeling better after I picked up my prescription and never took it, but hung onto it in case I got sick again.
Jacques looks at me, ready to protest that he’s fine and doesn’t need to rest.
“Now.”
With a sigh, he gets up and goes to the stairs.
“I’ll be right up with medicine and food.”
The annoyance leaves his face and his eyes meet mine. “Thank you, Ace,” he says softly, and it hits me that he’s never had anyone take care of him before.
“What’s all this?” Hasan asks, voice coming from the kitchen. I make sure Jacques actually goes upstairs into the master bedroom and then go into the kitchen to explain to the others how I’m going to do the concealment spell.
“I have another spell idea,” I say, opening the book. “And if you guys think it’ll work, we should probably try it first.”
“A separation spell?” Thomas asks, looking down over my shoulder.
“Yes, but I’m not trying to break anyone up. I want to separate you from whatever forces you to go back to the same spots every morning.” I find the spell in the book and cross-reference it to Jacques’s notes.
“I’ll have to tweak it a lot, but in theory, it might work. Right?”
“Right,” Gilbert says. “Not having birds shit on me when I’m sleeping would be nice.”
“That would be, though that’s not what made me consider the spell. I don’t want anyone seeing you.” I go into the pantry and grab a can of chicken noodle soup. “It’s not breaking the curse, but it’s better than nothing.”
“It’s progress,” Hasan says.
I heat up the soup, find Tylenol and the antibiotics, and go upstairs. Jacques is in bed, leaning back on the pillows but not covered up. The lights aren’t on, and I carefully move through the dark to set the bowl of soup on the dresser.
“I hope you’re not allergic to amoxicillin.” I turn on the bedside light and twist open a water bottle, handing it to Jacques.
“What is it?”
“Medicine. It’s called antibiotics, and it kills bacteria—the sickness—inside of you.” I sit on the bed next to him, opening the pill bottle. “And this one will lower your fever and help with pain.” I put the pills in his hand and he looks at them curiously. “You swallow them whole.”
“This little thing cures illness?”
“You have to take more than one, but yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”
“We’ve come a long way.” He pops the pills in his mouth and takes a drink.
“A very long way.” I trade the pill bottles for the soup and turn on the TV that sits on my dresser.
“You don’t have to sit here with me,” Jacques says, stirring the soup.
“I know. I’ll stay long enough to make sure you don’t have a deathly reaction to the medication and then I’ll get back to work.”
“Work?”
“On breaking the curse. And figuring out who sent the ghouls.”
“Maybe you should take it easy,” he says gently, bringing a spoonful of soup to his lips.
“I’ll take it easy after these assholes are caught. You know how I operate.”
“I do, and I know how much you wear yourself out in the pursuit of catching the bad guy.”
