Magic Bleeds (48 page)

Please, come back to me.”

I put my head against Curran’s mane.

“Come back to me. I know you’re in there. You brought me here. You didn’t kill me. You must know
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

who I am.”

Fur slid under my fingers. He stood rigid.

“If you come back to me, I’ll never leave you,” I whispered into the furry ear. “I’ll make you all the pies you could ever eat.”

All of the magic I had, all of the power of my blood, all of it was useless with the magic down. He was slipping away, farther and farther, with each passing second. “Come back to me. Please. Remember you wanted me to say please. I’m saying it now. Please come back to me.”

Nothing.

“Who’ll protect me from myself if you’re gone? Who’ll fight with me? I will be all by myself. You can’t abandon me, Curran. You can’t orphan the Pack. You just can’t.”

He clenched me to him. Pain exploded and I cried out.

Curran snarled and gripped me tighter.

He didn’t remember me. Curran was lost. She took him from me. She ripped him right out of my life with her dying breath. The world broke to pieces and caved in on me. I couldn’t even breathe.

My eyes grew hot. Something inside me broke and I cried. I hugged his thick neck and cried and cried, because he was dying second by second and I could do nothing.

“Come back to me. Don’t leave me all alone. Don’t die on me, you stupid sonovabitch. You goddamn fucking idiot. I told you to stay out of the damn fight! Why the hell don’t you ever listen? I fucking hate you. I hate you, you hear me? Don’t you dare die on me, because I need to kill you with my bare hands.”

The fur boiled under my hands and my fingers grazed human skin. Curran’s gray eyes looked at me from a human face.

“Talk to me, baby,” I whispered. “Please talk to me.”

His lips moved. He struggled for a long moment and forced it out.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Not dead yet.”

His eyes rolled back in his head. He swayed and we crashed to the floor.

DOOLITTLE WIPED HIS HANDS WITH A TOWEL. “HE’S comatose. His body is human, but whether his mind returns is the question. However, he spoke. We heard him through the door and it was clear and coherent. That gives us hope.”

“When will he wake up?”

Doolittle looked at me, his eyes troubled. “I don’t know.”

“Can you do anything? Can’t you fix him?”

He shook his head again and pulled back from me. “I’m out of cures. It’s up to his body and time now.”

Jim thrust himself into my view. “You need to let him fix you.”

I stared at him.

“Let the doctor fix you,” Jim said, as if to a small child. “You’re hurt. It’s not good for you to be hurt.”

I wanted them to leave me the hell alone. “Since when did you turn into my nursemaid?”

Jim crouched by me. “By now the whole Keep knows the Beast Lord is in a coma. They’re scared and pissed off and they want blood. What they need right now is the Beast Lord’s mate standing on her own two feet. You need to be up and running, so I can walk you through the Keep to keep people from panicking.”

“I’m not going anywhere while he’s like this.”

Jim shook his head. “You’re going to pick yourself up and take up right where he left off. That’s your job now.”

“Leave me the hell alone, or I’ll hurt you,” I growled at him.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“That’s real nice,” Jim said. “But first we’ll need to fix you.”

Doolittle put his finger on my jeans a couple of inches above the knee. “Cut from here to the ankle.”

Jim flashed a knife, slicing my jeans along my right leg. Doolittle pointed down. “Look here.”

My knee had developed a large bump on the left side. The muscle around it had swelled, disfiguring the leg.

“You know what this is,” Doolittle said.

“Dislocated kneecap.”

“Good girl. You have two broken ribs, severe bruising, a wound in the stomach, and at least four deep cuts that I can see, and all of them are filthy. Your wound did seal itself, but if we don’t take care of it now, you won’t be here if he wakes up.”

He said “if,” not “when.” If he wakes up.

Doolittle grasped my ankle. “Hold under her knee.”

Jim caught the underside of my knee in his hand.

Doolittle’s eyes found mine. “You know how this goes.”

I clenched the armrests of the chair. “Do it.”

He twisted my leg. A red-hot shaft of pain shot through me, tearing a scream.

Doolittle peered into my eyes. “That ought to bring you back to earth. Are you with us now?”

I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain.

“Good,” Doolittle said. “Now let’s see to those ribs.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

DEREK KNOCKED ON THE DOOR. I KNEW IT WAS him, because he always knocked twice.

I closed the book I was reading out loud. “Yes?”

Derek stepped in. The boy wonder looked me over with a worried look on his face. “How are you feeling?”

“Same.”

It had been three days since Curran collapsed. He showed no signs of waking up. I had him moved to the couch, because the bed was too high, and I’d made a bed for myself on the floor next to him. I hadn’t left his side longer than the few minutes I needed to go to the bathroom. The boy wonder had the devil of a time getting me to eat.

“Julie called me,” he said. “She says the school won’t let her contact you.”

“It was a precaution against Erra. I didn’t want her to find out Julie was alive. Is she angry with me?”

“She’s hurt,” he said. “I’ll talk to her.”

I could tell there was more. “Give, Derek. What else?”

“The Pack Council is going to convene in four hours. They are going to debate what to do if Curran doesn’t come around.”

“And?”

“There is some talk of expelling you from Curran’s quarters, since you’re not officially an alpha.”

My laughter rang through the room, sounding cold and brittle.

Derek took a step back. His face softened, his voice gaining an almost pleading quality. “Kate? Bring the creepy down a notch. Please.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him. The magic had hit for a few hours yesterday and Doolittle spent most of the wave putting me back together, since he could do nothing for Curran. I wouldn’t be able to fight Erra again right this second, but I had enough left in me for one good show.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Any calls from Andrea?”

“No.”

The shapeshifters had reported that Andrea had survived the fire at the Mole Hole, but she’d made no attempts to contact me. My best friend had abandoned me and I missed her. But then I probably wasn’t good company right this second. Maybe it was for the best.

“Still no word on Naeemah?” I asked.

He shook his head. “But there are two people from Clan Bouda here. They say you have some sort of arrangement with Aunt B.”

I pushed myself off the chair and handed him the book. “Page 238. Read to him while I talk to them.

Please.”

Derek licked his lips. “I’m not sure he can hear us.”

“When I was out after the rakshasas nearly killed me, I heard voices. I heard Curran, Julie, you, Andrea.

I didn’t know what was being said, but I recognized the voices. That’s how I knew I was safe. I want you to read to him, so he knows he’s not dead and he isn’t alone.”

Derek sat in my chair and opened the book.

I went through the door into the meeting room.

A man and a woman rose at my approach. The man was of average height and built like a young lightweight boxer: ridiculously toned but without any bulk. Those guys were wicked fast. You’d think you could take one out, and then you’d be waking up on the nice cold floor. His face was sharp-featured and his hair blazed bright red. It was a wonder he didn’t set the room on fire.

The woman was black, six inches taller, twenty pounds heavier—all of it muscle—and she was trying very hard not to scowl. She failed miserably.

They bowed their heads. Both looked to be in their mid-twenties.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Aunt B sends her regards,” the man said. “I’m Barabas. This is Jezebel.”

I arched my eyebrow at him. “Ambitious names.”

“Bouda mothers have high hopes for their children,” Barabas explained. “Our alpha tells us we’re yours.

If you find us suitable, we’ll serve you from this point on. If not, she will send replacements.”

I sat into the chair. “What made you a candidate for shit duty, Barabas?”

He blinked.

“I don’t see Aunt B passing an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. So what did you do to make her want to eject you from everyday bouda dealings?”

“My mother is a bouda,” he said. “My father is from Clan Nimble. I drew Nimble from the genetic lottery.”

When two shapeshifters from different clans mated, which happened more frequently with boudas, since there were only thirty or so of them, the children had an equal chance for either parent’s brand of Lyc-V.

“What do you turn into?”

“Mongoose. There are dominance issues in the clan,” he said.

“He won’t play by the rules,” Jezebel said.

Barabas sighed. “I’m gay. They view me as competition and treat me as they would treat a bouda female, which means a strict pecking order. I don’t fit in well and I have no wish to slaughter a load of my cousins so I can be a proper bouda female.”

I looked at Jezebel. “And you?”

Jezebel thrust her chin at me. “I challenged my sister for her place in the clan.”

“How did it go?”

“I lost.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

I sat up straighter. Duels for dominance between the shapeshifters were to the death. Always. “Why are you still breathing?”

“She stabbed me in the heart with her claws. I went into cardiac arrest and was clinically dead for eight minutes. When I came to, my sister couldn’t bring herself to kill me the second time. It reflects badly on her and on me. I’m a walking dead, and as long as I’m around, I’m the proof that she was weak.”

Great. You really had to admire Aunt B. If either of them left the clan on their own, it could have been taken as a sign of cowardice on their part. As it was, their honor was intact.

“Are you any good at Pack politics?”

“He’s very good,” Jezebel said. “I’m better with force, but I know the rules. I know what people can and can’t do. I’m not stupid and I can be useful to you.”

I sighed. “You’re both hired. I have a Council meeting in four hours. They’re going to try to remove me.

Find out what I should expect.”

I got up and went back to Curran. I was two thirds of the way through
The Princess Bride
and he would want to know what happened next.

When I walked in, Derek rose from the chair. “About Julie . . .”

“Yes?”

He straightened, his new face looking too tight on his bones. “I lied. She didn’t call me.”

I fought an urge to slump over. Now he was lying to me. “Is she okay?”

“I’m okay,” a thin voice said from the middle of the room.

I turned. Julie sat on the floor with her feet under her. She wore a black sweater and her face seemed very pale against the dark wool, almost transparent. Huge dark eyes looked at me.

She got up. “I ran away.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

I crossed the floor and hugged her. Derek backed out of the room.

“I went home,” Julie said softly. “I was worried. There is no home left. All of our stuff is gone. What happened?”

“It’s a long story.” At least I kept her safe.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, kiddo.” I squeezed her to me and kissed her blond hair. “You’re alive. Everything else we can fix.”

FOUR HOURS LATER I SAT IN CURRAN’S PRIVATE meeting room. Barabas sat across from me. Jezebel perched on the table and Derek leaned against the door. Julie had volunteered to read to Curran.

“You are not universally loved,” Barabas said.

Tell me something I don’t know.

“There are seven clans,” he continued. “Of the seven, you can count on the support of Clan Cat, and unless my Great Aunt B is doing a complete turnabout, the boudas are on your side as well. The wolves are fanatically loyal to Curran. Normally they would be behind you all the way, but you killed Jennifer’s little sister.”

The twisted body of the little werewolf flashed before me. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Nobody is disputing the kill,” Barabas said. “It was a justifiable death, and given time, Jennifer will see that. But right now, she is in mourning. She has to blame someone, because she can’t blame herself any more than she does already. All of that puts Daniel in a difficult position. He won’t oppose you. That would be disloyal to Curran. But he can’t support you either, because he has to be loyal to his mate. The proper course of action in cases like this is to abstain, and Wolves always do the proper thing. So he won’t hurt you, but he won’t help you either.”

“That’s three,” I said.

Barabas nodded. “Next we have Clan Heavy, the large predators who don’t fit into the other packs.

Wereboars, were-bison, werewolverines, even a werebaboon, but most of them are bears and bears hate to be surprised. They like the status quo and Mahon is a typical bear. He will probably oppose you.

It’s nothing personal. You just don’t fit into his picture of the way it ought to be.” Barabas leaned
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

forward and framed an imaginary square box with his hands, palms facing each other. “At eighteen, people like me have a choice: we can stay with the clan of our parents or we can go to the clan of our beast. I chose to stay with the boudas. All my friends were there and my family, and I didn’t know anybody in Clan Nimble. Mahon sat me down shortly after and wanted to know why.”