“You little—”
“Stop it! Both of you!” Jan snapped. Quentin stopped mid-word, while Gordan snorted and looked away. Glaring, Jan shook her head. “You should be ashamed. Did you stop to think for a second that you weren’t helping her recover by fighting? Huh?” Neither answered. Jan sighed and knelt in front of me, lifting my chin with one hand. I didn’t fight. Connor tightened his hands on my shoulder, and waited.
Jan tilted my head to one side, then the other, studying my eyes. Whatever she saw there didn’t please her, because she frowned as she let go and stood. “The next person who yells is going to regret it. I don’t know whether whatever she did worked, but it’s left her with a pretty vicious case of magic-burn.”
Gordan turned to glare at her. “She’s the idiot that pushed her limits. Why do we have to be nice?”
“She was trying to help you!” Quentin snapped.
Jan sighed. “I know, Quentin. Gordan, can you please take a look at her wounds without being snotty about it?”
“I’ll try,” she muttered, and sat down in front of me, ignoring the dirty water covering the floor. “Give me your hand.” I did as she asked; it was easier than fighting her.
Gordan grabbed my wrist, twisting my palm toward the ceiling. The cut looked even worse in direct light. Jan gasped, while Quentin made a small gagging noise. Gordan just frowned, asking, “What did you do, argue with a lawnmower?”
I swallowed, vowing not to faint until she was done hurting me. “Silver knife. Summoning ritual. I didn’t mean to cut so deep.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said, sounding almost impressed. “You’ll be lucky if you missed the major muscles. What were you summoning again? Godzilla?”
Hands tightening on my shoulders, Connor said, “She was summoning the night-haunts.”
“Oh, right, she’s a fucking moron,” said Gordan, sounding entirely too cheerful about it.
“Gordan . . .” said Jan warningly. Gordan subsided, grumbling under her breath as she resumed her inspection of my hand. Jan waited for me to relax before asking, “Did it work?” Elliot turned toward me and Gordan glanced up, both waiting for my answer.
“Yes,” I said. “They came. Sorry about the floor.”
“No big deal,” Jan said, waving it away. “Did they . . . did they tell you anything?”
“Some, yes. We were wrong when we thought they weren’t coming. It’s just that the bodies aren’t any good to them, so they’ve been leaving them behind.”
“Why aren’t they any good?”
“For the same reason Quentin and I can’t get anything out of the blood. Whatever’s been killing your friends has been somehow stealing the . . . vitality that should be left in their bodies.”
“It’s stealing their souls?” Elliot asked, sharply.
I shook my head, wincing as it throbbed. “It’s not stealing their souls; it’s stealing their memories. Your life is stored in your blood, but the blood here is empty. Their memories are gone, and the memories are what the night-haunts need.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I told the lie without flinching. I’d promised the night-haunts I’d keep their secrets, and I meant it.
“It’s stealing their memory?” Jan said, putting an odd stress on the last word. Something flitted across her face, there and gone so fast I wasn’t sure I’d seen it at all.
“Yes.”
“So the night-haunts are leaving the bodies here . . .”
“Because they just don’t care,” said Gordan, and grabbed my fingers, yanking them down. The pain was incredible. I screamed.
What happened next was a little blurred. Jan shouted. I tried to jerk to my feet, and Connor pushed me back down, keeping me where I was. Quentin started to move. Suddenly, my hand was free and Gordan was on the floor with her hand pressed against her cheek. Quentin was standing between us, fists raised.
“Don’t touch her!”
Gordan pushed herself up, glaring. Quentin towered over her; she didn’t seem to notice as she spat, “I ought to kick your overprivileged ass!”
“You want to try?” Quentin asked.
“Stop it!” Jan said. They ignored her. Whatever internal rivalry they’d created, they seemed intent on finishing it.
“I think maybe I will,” Gordan said, stepping forward.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and stood. This time, Connor let me. The wet floor didn’t make it easy, but I managed to keep my balance. “Are you two going to cut this out, or do I need to go somewhere else?” I asked.
Quentin turned, looking mortified. “Toby, sit down, you shouldn’t be . . .”
“Gordan, back off,” Elliot snapped.
She glared. “He hit me.”
“You deserved it,” Jan replied. “Now, if we’re done being jerks? Toby, sit. Quentin, cool it. And, Gordan—was there a reason you just tried to take Toby’s hand apart?”
“Yes,” she said sullenly, rubbing her cheek. “I needed to see if she had feeling in her fingers.”
“Well, now you know. So don’t do it again.” Gordan started to speak, and Jan raised her hand. “Please, I don’t want to hear it. Yes, he hit you, and yes, you earned it. I’d like to get the rest of this story today.”
“Right.” I sighed, and sat again, leaning back into Connor. He returned his hands to my shoulders, lending silent support.
Grumbling, Gordan knelt in front of me. Quentin backed off, not taking his eyes off her. If she made one wrong move, she was going to regret it. Jan folded her arms, watching; Elliot was standing just behind her. I squinted at them, realizing how bad this looked. I was dizzy and sick from a combination of exhaustion and magic-burn, and now I couldn’t even control my assistant. How was I supposed to help these people when I was barely standing up?
“Try not to squirm,” said Gordan, slathering antibacterial sludge onto my palm.
I gave Quentin a sharp look, hoping he’d get the point and stay where he was. “The night- haunts aren’t avoiding this place. There just isn’t any reason for them to take the bodies.”
“But what are we supposed to do with them?” Jan asked.
“We’ll have to burn them; that’s what we did before the night-haunts came.” I shrugged.
Jan paled. “Oh.”
“That can wait—right now, we need to figure out what’s going o—ow! Gordan!” She’d tightened a loop of gauze around my hand, mashing the edges of the wound together. Quentin started to step forward. I held up my unwounded hand, motioning for him to stop. “That hurt!”
“So sorry,” she drawled, and kept wrapping. My fingers were going numb; I couldn’t see how that was a good thing. “I don’t have the facilities to give you stitches without them turning septic, and I’ve got to stop the bleeding before you need a transfusion. Unless you want to try telling some human doctors what you’ve done to yourself?”
“Right,” I muttered, and huddled against Connor, trying to distract myself from the pain. It wasn’t working. My headache was making it hard to think straight.
Elliot looked at me, saying, “Jan, she met with Alex just before she did . . . whatever it is she did. I think she might need to lie down for a bit.”
There was that expression again, flickering over her face and vanishing. “Are you sure?”
“I asked Terrie.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. Neither would meet my eyes. I looked down at Gordan, and saw that even she was focusing on my hand, not looking at me. “What am I missing? What does Alex have to do with anything?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about now,” Jan said. I eyed her. She sighed. “I promise. You just need to rest for a while.”
“And you’ll tell me what’s going on when I wake up?”
“I will. You have my word.”
I looked at her. She looked back. Finally, I shook my head. “Quentin? Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to take a nap. I want you two to stay together. Wake me if there’s any sign of trouble. Understand?” Reluctantly, they nodded. “Good. And, Quentin, I don’t want to hear about your fighting with Gordan while I was asleep.” Even if she deserves it, I added silently.