Julie picked up the shard and concentrated, her gaze fixed on the sharp sliver of yellow stone. She looked at it for a long moment, dropped it into the tin, and looked at the body.
“Here.” Her slender finger pointed at Derek’s mangled thigh.
A scalpel flashed in Doolittle’s dark fingers. He made a neat incision, pulled it open with his fingers, and dipped artery forceps into the cut. I held my breath.
He pulled the forceps free. A bloody shard gleamed under the harsh light of the lamp.
“Thank you, Jesus.” Doolittle dropped the shard into the tin.
It’s over. Finally.
“Here.” Julie pointed to Derek’s left side.
Doolittle hesitated.
“Cut here.” The pale finger touched Derek’s ribs.
The doctor cut again. Another shard joined the first.
“Here.” The finger pointed to the center of Derek’s chest, where the black burn scar crossed his pectorals.
Fuck, how many of those things did they stick into him?
Doolittle cut. “Nothing.”
“Deeper,” Julie said.
Dark blood gushed from the cut.
I flinched.
An eternity later Doolittle said, “Here it is.” I heard the quiet sound of the shard falling into the tin.
“Are there more?” Doolittle asked.
“No,” Julie answered.
I looked up. Nothing had changed. Derek lay unmoving. “What now?”
“Now we wait,” Doolittle said.
I SAT IN DARKNESS, IN A LOW CHAIR, WATCHING Derek’s body. It had been three hours since Doolittle had removed the shards. Derek hadn’t moved. His body showed no change.
In the room across the hallway Doolittle slept in a La-Z-Boy, his face haggard and worn-out even in his sleep. He’d stayed awake for two days straight, trying to keep Derek alive, but it was feeling helpless that finally did him in. For the first hour after Julie had found the shards, we waited on the edges of our seats. Then hope slowly turned into depression. I watched it take its toll on Doolittle until finally he abandoned his vigil and retreated into the room. I had checked on him on the way to the bathroom: he was slumped in his chair, sunken deep into a dream.
Julie appeared in the doorway, carrying two mugs. She approached, handed one cup to me, and sat by my feet. I sipped from the mug. Hot tea, with lemon. I had taught her how to make it properly. Apparently, it stuck.
“Why the cage?” she said, pointing to the hole in the floor, where the silver and steel bars glinted weakly. “I almost walked into it.”
“It’s a loup cage. Every shapeshifter safe house has one, just in case.” If Derek went loup, Jim and Doolittle wanted to contain him quickly. It wasn’t a thought I cared to contemplate. And certainly not a thought I cared to discuss with Julie.
“How did you meet?” she asked softly.
“Hm?”
“Derek and you. How did you meet?”
I didn’t really want to talk about it. Still, it was better than wallowing in my despair. “I was looking for Greg’s killer. The Order had given me the last file my guardian was working on, and I had retraced his steps, trying to find out why he was killed. The file led me to the Pack. I didn’t realize this at the time, but Greg had worked very closely with the Pack. There was a feeling of mutual trust between him and the shapeshifters. But they didn’t know anything about me and I didn’t know anything about them. I only knew that Greg had been torn to pieces by somebody’s claws.”
I took a swallow of my tea. “I had access to Jim—we had worked together in the Guild—and Jim told Curran about my investigation. Curran decided to find out what I knew and had Jim arrange to meet me. In Unicorn Lane of all places. It didn’t go well.”
Julie snorted quietly. “Big surprise.”
“Yeah. Now when I look back at it, I realize it was a test. His Furry Majesty was trying to gauge what I was made of and I showed him.” I shrugged. “Live and learn.” So many problems could’ve been avoided if I hadn’t crouched down in the darkness and called out, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
“What happened next?”
“Eventually the Pack invited me to one of their gatherings to discuss things in greater detail. You’ve seen how they treat outsiders. Bite first, apologize later. They brought me to their Keep in the middle of the night and led me underground to this huge room. I stepped inside and found half a thousand shapeshifters and they weren’t happy to see me.”
“Were you scared?”
“I was scared I’d blow it. I realized by this point that if I couldn’t get the Pack to work with me, I’d make things a lot harder for myself. I had gone from a no-name merc to making arrangements with the head of the People and the Beast Lord, and I was seriously outclassed. I wasn’t used to that.”
“I know what you mean,” Julie murmured. “You try your best and only make yourself feel stupid. Everybody seems to know some sort of secret that you don’t and that makes them better than you.”
I reached over and petted her wispy hair. “The school’s that bad, huh?”
“Sometimes. It’s okay usually. But there are mean people and they do nasty things, and if you call them on it, they make it seem like you just don’t get it.” She squeezed her hands into tight fists and said through clenched teeth, “They make me so mad. If we were on the street, I’d punch them. But if I do punch them, that will just mean I can’t win by their dumb rules.”
“Well, then you know exactly how I felt.” I could do the punching. Punching was easy. It was the clever banter and dealing in convoluted half-truths and almost-lies that made me want to jump out of my skin.
“So what did you do?”
“I made my way down through the room, and this group of young shapeshifters barred my way and started making lots of noise. I knew Curran had put them up to it to see what I would do. One of them reached out and touched me, and I took him over with a power word and made him guard me against the rest.”
“Derek,” Julie guessed.
“Yep. And then it turned into this huge complicated deal, because Curran thought I was challenging him by taking his wolf . . .” I waved my hand. “In the end, Derek swore a blood oath to protect me so Curran wouldn’t have to kill him. He’s released from the oath now, but you remember how he is. He decided he’s responsible for me and I feel responsible for his ass—”
With a hoarse scream, Derek jerked upright and ripped the IV tubes from his arms.
“Get Doolittle!” I lunged to the tank.
Gnarled hands gripped me. Deranged eyes flared white from the mangled face. He clawed at me, crushing my arms, agonizing screams ripping from him.
“Safe,” I yelled into his ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay . . .”
His skin bulged, ready to rip. The dark slash of his mouth gaped open. “Hurrrts! Hurts, it hurts!”
And then Doolittle was there with a syringe and Raphael’s long fingers clenched Derek’s wrists, pushing pressure points to make him let go, but Derek hung on to me with desperate ferocity. The pull of his arms jerked me off my feet and dragged me into the vat. He clung to my shoulders, gouging my skin.
“Hurts!”
“Get her out!” Doolittle sank the needle into Derek’s arm with no effect. “The pain’s too much! He’s going loup!”
Raphael wrestled Derek’s arms, trying to separate him from me, but Derek just held on tighter. Doolittle dropped the syringe and grabbed Derek’s left wrist. Fangs cut through Derek’s disfigured lips.
“Get her out!” Doolittle screamed.
Someone thrust a piece of bloody meat into Derek’s mouth. He released me and clutched on to the meat, shredding it. Bloody juice and flesh flew everywhere. I got the hell out of the vat.
On the other side of the tank, Jim dangled another raw rib eye before Derek. Derek snapped it from his fingers and ripped into it in a frenzy.