He shook his head sharply. She didn’t have enough information. She couldn’t even consult her own memories, or she’d realize that he’d be bound by what she chose. If she stayed or if she moved on, that’s what he would have to do, too.
But she wasn’t paying attention. She’d raised one hand and leaned her head into it, looking strained and weary. And uncomfortable.
He could help a little there, at least. He moved up beside her so she could lean on him. She gave him a small smile and did just that, laying an aim over his back and resting against him. For several moments neither of them moved.
What would he do if she decided to take the demon up on its offer?
There wasn’t much he could do, he realized. He might like the idea of attacking the demon, but it was their only guide in this world, however little he trusted it. And it claimed to be tied to Lily. He could try to interfere, not letting the demon approach, but that would do little other than make her angry. It wouldn’t persuade her to rethink her decision, and he couldn’t plant himself between them indefinitely.
“Damn,” she said at last, straightening. “I wish I had clothes.” She shook her head. “That’s stupid. It’s just stupid to be worrying about clothes right now, but I don’t like this. I don’t like being naked.”
It wasn’t stupid at all. He was, for having paid no attention to her nudity. Just because he didn’t react to her body in this form the way he did as a man… but why hadn’t her clothes come with her? The Lady’s token had. So had he.
Later. He’d worry about that later. Right now he had to get her some protection. She was all-over skin, and her skin damaged easily. At the very least she needed shoes. He turned his head and yipped at the demon.
It snorted. “You see a Wal-Mart nearby? Here, clothes are for decorating high-status types. You can’t just run out and buy them.”
Rule yipped again.
“Feet that can be hurt by walking on them!” Gan snorted. “Humans are weird. If walking hurts her feet, she’ll heal them. Once I give her some ymu, that is.” It smiled slyly. “I bet I could get her some clothes in Akhanetton.”
“All right,” Lily said.
Rule’s head swung back toward her.
“My body,” she told him. “My choice. And I think I have to try Gan’s way. This isn’t a good place to be weak.”
Gan hummed approvingly. “That’s good thinking. Your brain’s working better than I thought.” It had found another twitching hirug. This one was more lively—three of the legs still functioned well enough that it tried to get away, which seemed to cheer up Gan. It smiled before it bit the thing’s head off, chewed, and swallowed.
Then it started toward them. “Okay, all you have to do is hold still.”
Lily put up a hand, palm out. “Hold it. You’re not touching me with that in your hands.”
“What?” Gan glanced at the remains of the hirug. “‘Oh. You don’t like blood and stuff? A lot of humans do. And weren’t you some kind of cop?”
“I don’t know. Was I?”
It slapped its forehead. “Right. Missing marbles. I forgot.” It gave its attention to polishing off the hirug, tossed aside a few bits that weren’t sufficiently lively, and then lumbered toward Lily.
Rule’s hackles lifted. This was wrong. It had to be wrong, but he didn’t know how to stop her.
Gan stopped a couple of feet away, eyeing him warily. “I don’t trust you. Go somewhere else.”
The demon didn’t trust him? Rule’s mouth wasn’t shaped right for laughter, ironic or otherwise.
Lily shoved at him. “Move. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”
Apparently Lily didn’t need her memory to be cussedly determined on independence. Grudgingly, he moved away a few feet—close enough to be on top of the demon in one leap, if necessary. It might be stronger than he was, but it was smaller and slower. If it hurt her…
Gan edged closer, staying as far away from Rule as it could. With Lily sitting, its head was roughly level with hers. It held out its hands. Its feet were large and flat, rather like a kangaroo’s, but its hands were small. Child-size. Aside from the color, they looked quite human.
Lily stared at those small, orange hands, her face blank. Then she clasped them.
For several minutes nothing happened. Nothing he could see, anyway.
“You have to be still!” Gan said, frowning with that very wide mouth.
“I haven’t moved.”
“You’re moving inside. Pushing back at me.” It frowned harder. “Think about still things. Things that don’t move at all. Think about them real hard.”
She scowled and closed her eyes.
A few moments later, Gan leaned in close and opened its mouth over hers. She started to pull away, but it gripped her head and held her still. Rule stiffened, growling, but the kiss was over before he could be sure he should attack.
Gan stepped back, smiling.
Lily wasn’t smiling. She swallowed. Swallowed again, as if she was having trouble keeping the demon spit down. Gradually her expression changed to puzzlement.
The redness around her burn was fading.
It went quickly then, faster by far than he could have healed that degree of damage. First the red, weepy skin turned creamy, then the blister-bubble began to shrink. Within five minutes, there was no sign she’d been burned. The wound on her shoulder was gone, too.
Was this, Rule wondered, how humans felt about his own ability to heal? Uneasy, unsettled, convinced that it wasn’t supposed to be so easy? That such ease would have to be paid for at some point.
Lily touched her stomach and then rolled her shoulders as if testing the internal workings. Her eyebrows went up. “It worked. I feel…” She stretched out both arms. “I feel good.”
“You ought to,” Gan grumbled. “You’ve got enough ymu in you for a Claw. Let’s go.” It started toward the other side of their cul-de-sac.
Lily stood easily, with no wincing, no need to balance herself on his back. She looked at him, and there was nothing in her face for him to latch onto—no softness, no apology, no doubt. Maybe an acknowledgment: he hadn’t wanted this, and she’d done it anyway.
He was, he realized, thoroughly pissed. He looked away.
Gan was already scrambling up a ravine. Lily followed, so Rule did, too.
He took the rear. The cul-de-sac wasn’t deep, and the ravine the demon had chosen for an exit made for an easy climb. He followed her as she followed the demon, and his anger didn’t dissipate.
That was unfair. He knew it, though the knowledge didn’t release him from the anger. Lily was sundered from her self in a way he could scarcely imagine, lost in hell with a wolf and a demon, unable to recall her own name. In pain, afraid, and lacking memory, why should she take his wordless counsel?
But anger isn’t always logical, and his welled up from the deep places inside. For he was sundered, too, from a large part of himself—from his clan, his family, his world, and his other form, And he might never get any of that back. He might never speak in words again, or see his father or brother, or be there to help his son through his first Change. He might never pick something up with a hand instead of a mouth.
And if he stayed in this form too long, he would forget what it was to use his hands. He would cease thinking in words. The man would fade, and there would be only the wolf.
The part of him that was wolf didn’t fear as the man did. He missed his clan, but he enjoyed his four feet, and his mate was near. And when was the future ever more than a mist? Yet the wolf’s pain went deep, too.
Where there should have been the long, slow song, the pull and call that shaped his soul, there was silence. And for that there was no comfort.