“I want you to keep trying to revert to human shape,” Jim said. “Don’t strain yourself, but keep a steady pressure.”
I hooked the first shard with the tweezers and plucked it from her paw. Blood gushed. Dali jerked, pulling me with her. Fire laced my side. I winced. There went Doolittle’s patching.
“Hold still, please.”
Dali whined and let me have her paw. The cut didn’t seal. I swiped at it with gauze. Still open. Shit. She and Derek now exhibited the same symptoms: an inability to shift and retarded regeneration. I deposited the bloody piece of frosted-white glass onto the lid of the first aid kit.
“Let’s talk scents.” Jim’s voice was smooth, soothing. “Did you smell anything odd off the bodies?”
Dali rocked her head side to side.
I plucked another shard from her paw. “Aside from shape, do you feel any different?”
Dali whined. That was the trouble with shapeshifters in animal form: they couldn’t vocalize and most couldn’t write. Yes and no questions were our only option.
I hooked the third shard, but the tweezers slipped. The sucker was deep in there. “Dali, spread your fingers for me if you can.”
Huge claws shot out from her paw as she spread her toes.
“Thank you.” I pinched the shard and pulled it out.
The tiger flesh boiled under my fingers and I found myself holding a human hand.
“Oh my God.” Dali’s voice hit a trembling high note. “Oh my God.”
“What did you do?” Jim leaned forward, focused as if he sighted prey.
Tears swelled in Dali’s eyes. “I thought I would be stuck in animal form forever.” She looked around the room. “I wrecked the place. And your wound . . . I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I mumbled, focused on the shard. It looked yellow to me. The tulip lamp had been frosted white. “Happens all the time.”
I grabbed the first aid kit, held it under the tweezers in case I dropped the shard on the way, got up, and carried the sliver of glass to the window. The shard sparkled, casting a faint yellow shade onto the white first aid box. Hello, Mr. Clue.
Jim frowned at the shard. “Topaz?”
“I think so. What do you want to bet this is a piece of the Wolf Diamond?” It made sense. The Reapers wanted the Wolf Diamond so they could use it as a weapon against shapeshifters. Two plus two equaled a bloody chunk of silicate in my hand. “Do you think it prevents transformation?”
Jim swiped it from the tweezers and sliced the flesh of his palm with a quick flick of his nails. He slid the shard into the cut.
Green rolled over his eyes. His lips trembled. A shiver ran through his body, raising the hair on the back of his arms. His gaze had gone jaguar-wild, but his shape remained human.
Without a word, he extracted the shard and dropped it into the lid as if it were red-hot.
This was it. This was the weapon the rakshasas needed to destroy the Pack. The gem couldn’t be stolen; it had to be won or it would bring a curse upon its thief. They entered the Midnight Games so they could get the gem, and once they got it, they would carve it into a thousand pieces and use the shards to prevent shapeshifters from assuming their animal or warrior form. Without shapeshifting and regeneration, the Pack would become filling for the rakshasa meat grinder.
“I must’ve stepped onto the shard when I touched the body,” Dali murmured.
“You mean, when you stomped all over it.” Jim shook once, as if flinging water from himself. “The kid has one inside him somewhere. But the m-scanner isn’t picking it up.”
Dali touched the shard with her fingertip. “It’s so small. The scanner might not be sensitive enough to detect it with low magic.”
“I don’t want to slice him to ribbons looking for it. He might not make it. There has to be another way,” Jim said.
The plan shaped up in my head. “I’m going to Macon.”
Jim blinked and a light sparked in his eyes. “Julie, your ward. She is in school near Macon. And she’s a hell of a sensate.”
Julie, the kid whom I met during the flare, had a one-in-a-million talent. She was a sensate and she could read the colors of magic better than any m-scanner. She was studying in the best boarding school I could get her into, only two hours away by ley line.
I nodded. “If anybody can find the shard in Derek’s body, she will.”
CHAPTER 21
I TAPPED MY FINGERS ON THE COUNTER, THE phone to my ear, and checked the gauze I pressed against my ribs. Still bleeding.
The line clicked and a soothing female voice greeted me. “Ms. Daniels?”
“Hello.”
“My name is Citlalli. I’m Julie’s counselor.”
“I remember. We’ve met.” Memory thrust an image before me, a small dark woman with Madonna eyes. A very strong empath. Like surfers, the empaths rode the waves of people’s emotions, feeling the grief or joy of others as if it were their own. They made excellent psychiatrists and sometimes their patients drove them insane.
I frowned. Something was up. I didn’t ask to speak to the counselor.
“Ms. Daniels . . .”
“Kate.”
“Are you precognizant, Kate?”
“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”
“I’m drafting a letter to you regarding Julie, and I wondered if my concentration may have triggered your phone call.”
Oh no. “What did she do?”
“Julie has developed some issues.”
Julie was an issue riding on an issue and using a third issue for a whip. But she was mine, and despite the kind quality of Citlalli’s voice, all my needles stood up defensively . I tried to keep the hostility out of my answer. “Go on.”
“Due to the gap in her education, she has to take remedial classes.”
“We discussed that prior to her admittance.”
“Academically she’s progressing ahead of schedule. I have no doubt that she will catch up with her peers by the end of the year,” Citlalli assured me. “But she’s experiencing problems adjusting socially.”
She had practically lived on the streets for the last two years, hiding from gangs and being brainwashed by her scumbag boyfriend. What did they expect from her?
On the other end of the line, Citlalli cleared her throat softly. My irritation must’ve been intense enough for her to pick up. I took a deep breath and cleared the baggage. Emotions receded, still present but held deep below the surface. It was a meditation technique I had learned in childhood. I rarely used it because I liked to ride the edge of my emotions. Fear, anger, outrage, love, courage, I utilized them for a boost in the fight. But I knew how to suppress them, and the older I got, the easier suppression came to me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you discomfort. You were describing Julie’s problems?”
“Thank you. Children can be cruel at Julie’s age. They struggle for personal identity. Establishing pecking order becomes very important. Julie finds herself at a disadvantage. Academically she’s behind, so she can’t use her accomplishments in that area to gain popularity. She’s not very good at sports, partially due to malnourishment and partially because she doesn’t have remarkable talents in that arena. We have some outstanding athletes and she realizes she will never be a star. She doesn’t excel at combat, and while those with knowledge find her magical sensitivity impressive, children appreciate flashier magics more.”
“In other words, she isn’t a jock, she isn’t a warrior, she’s taking remedial lessons, and her magic is lackluster because she can’t breathe fire or melt metals with a blink.”
“Essentially. Some of the children in the same position reach for their family history to establish their cred with other kids.”