I put my hand in his sewer-wet fur and felt the rapid, too-fast thud of his heart. “You are Luvic Bard. A conjurer. Not a jackaltooth. Change. Now. You are a man.”
He violently spasmed, and his whole body shook. Then he stiffened, and a snarl ripped from his throat. Right when I thought he was free and he’d be himself again, he dropped back to the floor, still a jackaltooth.
He was exhausted. He couldn’t open his eyes. His rib cage moved like a creaky door. Under my hand, his heartbeat staggered like an old man lurching from one foot to the next.
I ran my fingers through his fur, soothing his rapid heartbeat.
“It worked last time,” I said, searching to see if there were any knots on him I could untie. But no. As a jackaltooth, Luvic didn’t seem capable of making or maintaining illusion.
There was a cut and a bit of blood on his shoulder. He’d have to clean that. Blood mixed with sewage was asking for infection.
“It looks like Griff got you. Hmm. Your paws too. Did you cut them digging us out?”
Luvic ignored me. His heartbeat had slowed. His breathing was steady. Maybe he’d fallen asleep.
“We’ll have to go soon. We can’t stay here forever. I mean, it is nice. You’ve got bones. Rotting shelves. Eau de sewer. It’s very homey. A nice place for a jackaltooth and his . . .”—not friend— “companion. But . . . honestly. Wouldn’t you rather be a conjurer than a jackaltooth?”
I was tired. There was something soothing about the soft rattle of Luvic’s breathing.
I lay down on the stone floor and rested my head on his chest. His fur was damp and hot. My head rose and fell with each of his breaths. I gripped his fur and closed my eyes.
“Change back,” I whispered.
Luvic’s muscles clenched. His form twisted, and I was thrown across the room. I hit the rotting shelves, and the splintering wood fell on top of me. When I wiped the wood chips and dust free, Luvic was leaning against the metal door.
He was dressed, clean, and smiling.
Of course, it was illusion, but he still looked like a Bard ready for his photo shoot.
I pushed to my feet and swiped the sawdust and cobwebs from my pajamas.
“Morning.” Luvic gave me a wide smile as if none of the past hour had happened at all.
I pointed at him. “Do I control you?”
His smile widened. “No.”
“Can I command you?”
He tilted his head. “No.”
“Then why am I able—sort of—to make you become human again? Don’t deny it. And also, why are you becoming a jackaltooth? Stop smiling like that. Luvic! Stop playing games with me?—”
“But Mari, we’ve always played games. I do it with all my friends. And you and me, we’re?—”
“Friends. Yeah.” I waved my hand in front of him, brandishing the pointer finger he’d stabbed with the pin. “What did you do to us and why? Tell me, or . . .”
Luvic lifted his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish my threat.
I sighed. I couldn’t help him if he didn’t trust me, but honestly, he couldn’t trust me. He shouldn’t.
“The Smith wants you dead,” he finally said, searching my expression.
The Smith. Finn. I swallowed and ignored the press of heat at the backs of my eyes. “It seems that way.”
“Do you want him dead?”
“No. Why are we here?”
