“No, you’re wrong.” Even as I shook my head in denial, my mind was zipping around like a hummingbird on speed, finally making the connections I’d been steadfastly ignoring over the last month. “I mean, it’s impossible! I’ve been on the pill for years!”
“Human contraception is all very well and good,” Meikei said with a smile, “assuming your partner is also human.”
“Oh, crap,” I groaned as my last defense crumbled before me.
“Are you okay?” she asked gently, resting her hand on my shoulder.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “It’s going to take a little while for this to really sink in. Right now, I’ve got to think about Hexe.”
“Of course,” she said as she helped me back onto my feet. “I won’t say a thing.”
“There you are!” Dr. Mao said as Meikei and I returned with the pills. “I was beginning to wonder if you had fallen into a black hole.”
“There was a mechanical problem with the pill press,” Meikei fibbed, glancing in my direction. “Tate was able to fix it, though.”
“Ah, very good,” her father replied, returning his attention to the last of the needles. Hexe’s right hand bristled liked an angry golden porcupine.
“Where’s Tate?” he moaned, drifting in and out of consciousness.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered as I brushed the hair from his face. “I’m here.”
“Don’t let them take it,” Hexe rasped, his eyes rolling about in their sockets like greased ball bearings. “My hand—don’t let them take it.”
“Nobody’s going to take away your hand, Hexe,” Dr. Mao said in a loud, slow voice, as if speaking to a child on a bad phone line. “Take these—they will help with the pain.”
Hexe clumsily tossed down the offered tablets with his left hand and chased them with a sip of water. Within a minute of taking them, the knot in his jaw unclenched and the muscles in his face relaxed. With a relieved sigh, he lay back down and closed his eyes.
“That should give him some relief for the time being. Safflower is similar to opioids for Kymerans,” Mao explained. “Now that he’s sedated, I can splint his hand properly.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked anxiously.
Dr. Mao paused for a long moment before finally answering. “I’ve done everything in my power to help him, but there was a great deal of nerve damage. The hand, once splinted, should heal well enough. But I seriously doubt he will regain complete dexterity without the aid of magic.”
My heart sank like a lead anchor, threatening to pull me downward into despair, but my brain told the rest of me that turning into a blubbering ball of boohoo was not going to help anything or solve any problems. I stared down at Hexe’s unconscious face, still pale and drawn, and felt a surge of love so intense I almost forgot to breathe. We had been through more, in the relatively short time we’d been together, than most couples would ever face in a lifetime: escaping angry mobs, angrier demons, and crazed homunculi, all while saving one another’s lives thrice over. If we could survive all that, then we would overcome this as well.
Despite Dr. Mao’s grim diagnosis, I refused to give up hope. Golgotham was filled with wizards, witches, and miracle workers—somebody, somewhere, had to know how to fix that which could not be repaired.
Chapter 9
“Lukas will accompany you home,” Doc Mao said as he helped me load an extremely groggy Hexe into the livery carriage. “You will require assistance getting him upstairs.”
“That’s okay, Doc,” I replied. “I can handle him.”
The old were-tiger raised his unibrow in surprise. “Are you sure of that? Given your condition?” Dr. Mao chuckled as my eyes darted suspiciously at Meikei. “No, my daughter has not betrayed your confidence, my dear. However, I did not get to the age I am now without knowing a pregnant woman when I smell one,” he said, tapping the side of his nose.
As Lukas and I entered the front door, Hexe slung between us like a drunken sailor, we were greeted by Scratch, who was perched atop the newel post of the staircase like a living finial. “Finally! It’s about time you two came home!” the familiar yowled indignantly. “Beanie is about to explode! And if you think that I’m going to clean up after him . . .” He trailed off as he watched us guide Hexe toward the stairs, his hairless brow furrowed into a feline frown. “What’s wrong with the boss? Is he munted?”
“Yes, but not how you think,” I replied as we dragged Hexe upstairs and steered him into his room. The carved owls atop the bedposts swiveled their heads about in concern as I propped a pillow under his splinted right hand. “Thanks for helping me, Lukas,” I said as I unlaced and removed Hexe’s high-tops before tucking him in. “I can handle it from here.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked worriedly.
“I’ll be fine,” I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Go home and get some sleep. It’s been a long day for everybody.”
“Call me if you need anything,” he said as he gave me a farewell hug. “I’ll bike right over.”
Scratch jumped up onto the bed, nervously slapping his tail against the footboard as he watched me do my best to make Hexe comfortable. “What’s going on?” he growled.
“There was an accident,” I replied.
“What kind of accident?” Scratch scowled.
“It doesn’t matter,” I answered hastily, trying to dodge any further questioning. “It’s none of your business. . . .”
“‘None of my business’?” the familiar spat. “Hexe is my master! I have no business but him!” He cast back his head, sniffing the air as if on the trail of a rat hiding in the wainscoting. “What’s that smell?” He hopped onto the mattress, slowly creeping forward. As his twitching whiskers brushed against Hexe’s injured right hand, he recoiled in disgust. “Saint of the Pit!” he screeched. “Malleus Maleficarum—the witch-hammer!”
The familiar threw back his head and gave voice to a yowl that sounded like a band saw chewing its way through sheet metal. As he leapt off the bed he cast aside his domestic skin, revealing his demonic aspect—that of a hairless saber-toothed tiger with the wings of a dragon and the tail of a crocodile.
“Who has done this thing to my master?” Scratch roared, his outrage rattling the very walls and frightening poor Beanie so badly he peed himself in terror and dove under the bed skirt for protection.
“Calm down!” I shouted, clamping my hands over my ears.
“I’ll ‘calm down’ once I’ve torn the throat from whoever’s responsible for this affront!” the familiar snarled, his head nothing but blazing eyes and gleaming fang. The acerbic, wisecracking Scratch I thought I knew was nowhere to be seen, and in his place was a demon, born and bred in the pits of the Infernal Realm, transformed by anger into something truly terrifying. “Tell me who did this!” he thundered, slapping his tail against the floorboards so hard it shook the entire house.
“I can’t!” I replied, my voice quavering with fear.
Scratch roared again, his monstrous, curving fangs flashing like scimitars. “Tell me their name, nump!” he growled as he took a menacing step in my direction.
I stood there, momentarily paralyzed, like a frightened gazelle, before breaking free of my fear. I snatched up one of Hexe’s high-top Chucks and hurled it at Scratch’s head, striking him between the eyes.
“Bad kitty!”