by Cathy Clamp
“I am ready!” she called out, staying behind the bush. She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen, but the warm sensation that coaxed the bear from inside her was very different from how Papa turned her. This felt like climbing out of the pool after a swim, versus jumping over a stream and landing hard on the other bank. Both got you to the same place, but Dalvin’s way was refreshing.
She shook her head to orient herself and then shook her whole body, not really believing she was in her furred form. “Oh, Dalvin! You must teach this way to Papa! It was so smooth.”
Rachel let out a little chuckle as she picked up Anica’s clothes to tuck into her backpack. “Yeah, my boy is a smooth one, all right.”
Dalvin reached out one of his long legs and gave her bottom a light tap with the toe of his boot. “Who says I’m your boy?”
Rachel bumped his shoulder with hers and laughed. “You do. Every day.”
He smiled broadly in return. “Damn straight I do.”
“This is why I like you both. You have such joy together.” She would smile if she could, but pulling her lips back only bared teeth. Luckily, they understood. “I hope to find someone to love someday. Perhaps now that we’re in America, Papa will allow me more freedom as well.”
“Your dad’s pretty cool,” Rachel said as they walked where Anica’s nose was leading. “I’ll bet he’ll ease up. He’s really proud of you for having the guts to go take down that snake nest. He told me so.”
It had been very hard to go back into the cave where she’d been held captive, but she’d done it and saved a lot of children. Her papa had never said much about that, so to hear that he was proud of her made her heart warm. She stopped and looked at Rachel. “He never tells me this. He only tells me his worry, but not his pride. So thank you for telling—”
A scent caught her attention and forced her to concentrate ahead of them. The spicy scent of the bear … intense and dizzying. There was no doubt it was Tristan, in an area directly opposite where he said he’d come from. She put her nose to the ground, nuzzling through the light coating of ash, and inhaled deeply. She could smell his footsteps, the scent of his … blood? Had he been bleeding this far from where the tree had fallen? But there was more. Another person had followed him, walking exactly in the footsteps of the bear. This was also a Sazi, but not one whose scent she recognized from town. And over that was another odor, something odd. Sweet but pungent and earthy. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it … thick with some strange chemical she’d never encountered before. She began to sneeze, over and over, in a fit like she’d never experienced.
Every time she caught her breath, it would be stolen away by violent sneezes that made her eyes water and her nostrils swell nearly shut. The first few were normal, much like when she was hunting for mushrooms. The spores would tickle her nose and she’d sneeze and be done. But now she couldn’t shake them; the sheer force, over and over, was making her chest hurt and it hard to even stand.
Anica shook her head and tried to blow out whatever was affecting her, but she couldn’t get enough breath to do more than move the scent to different parts of her nose.
“Anica, are you okay?” At first Rachel and Dalvin had waited for her sneezing to stop, but now they were noticing her discomfort. But she couldn’t respond. All that came out of her mouth when she opened it was a yelping noise that was cut off with another sneeze.
She had to open her mouth now, because her nose had swollen shut, and with every sneeze it felt like her eyeballs were exploding. “Dalvin,” Rachel said, “we have to get her back to town. Something’s really wrong. She can’t breathe at all.”
Chest burning with the need for air, the sneezing had turned to coughing and it felt like when she’d slipped on rocks in the river while escaping the caves and inhaled water into her lungs.
“You’re right,” Dalvin replied with concern in his voice as Anica struggled to stay on her feet. “I’m going to turn her back. Maybe that’ll help.”
“I’ll get her clothes.” Anica didn’t see her leave but felt the ease of magic into her skin that pulled the fur inside. But even though she could see her hands and feet turn human again, the magic hadn’t cleared her lungs. In fact, with her smaller mouth and nose it was even harder to get air.
Dalvin quickly shifted into a large brown owl that he’d called an eagle owl. Once Rachel had helped her back into a shirt and her pants, Dalvin fluttered into the air just above her and wrapped massive talons around her upper arms. Sensing that he planned to fly her to town, she reached up and did her best to grab on to his feathers so he didn’t have to worry about dropping her. “Meet us back at town, Chelle. You know the way.”
“Will do. I’ll see if I can find the other bear’s backpack while I’m here.”
Anica would have responded if she could have, telling her where she thought it was, but forcing her lungs to pull in what little air they would was all she could focus on.
CHAPTER 4
Tristan sat on an exam table in the town’s small medical clinic, sensing all the people who came and went through other rooms and past the building outside. So far, he hadn’t felt any evidence of the criminal he had been sent to find.
Ahmad al-Narmer was nothing if not careful, so Tristan fully understood why he’d been sent here. Regular Wolven agents wouldn’t be of any help. There were only a handful of their kind left in the world who would recognize Ur-Lagash, the feared lion cupbearer for Sargon of Akede. That Ahmad had even tasted his scent was nothing short of amazing. He’d spent little time around Lagash, and the ancient assassin was cautious. After the fall of the city named for him, Lagash had become one of the high priests of Marduk, caring for the needs of his new master. Palace intrigue was his speciality, along with torture and death. Tristan felt a shudder pass through him. The sharp ache of his broken leg would be considered nothing back then. He would have been required to crawl on it, to beg forgiveness for whatever petty sin had brought about the torture.
The whisper of an alto voice and a familiar sensation made him look up sharply. The white door set in the peach-painted frame opened inward. Amber Wingate, wife of the Chief Justice of the Sazi, wearing blue hospital scrubs covered with tiny yellow ducks, walked in. She looked harried as she swept into the room, not even glancing at him. When she did look up, she dropped the clipboard from her hand and slammed the door shut behind her with wide eyes. Her voice lowered to a harsh hiss that better suited her cat form. “Risten? What in the name of … well, pick your deity, are you doing here?”
“It’s Tristan, if you please,” he responded in a similarly quiet voice, keeping the midwestern accent in his voice. “Tristan Davies. I’m a traveler, from Kansas, who got caught in this sudden forest fire. My leg is broken.” He pointed down at the borrowed clothing, now spotted with blood. “It really is broken.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she flared her nostrils and he felt a tentative lash of magic in his direction. She realized he wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t enough for her to taken even a step closer. “Who could possibly break your leg? Why are you in America? You haven’t set foot outside Indonesia in a hundred years.”
“Two hundred, actually.” Staring at those angry eyes reminded him of the first time he’d seen the French healer, weighed down under a dozen yards of heavy black fabric and her ever-present medical bag. She had glared at him just like this while they argued about a Sazi taking a political stance in the human world right after Napoléon’s army decided Ris’s native Sumatra should become a French “colony.” The army brought the scourge of cholera to the invasion party and Amber, then known as Nurse Yvette, had been trying to save the French as hard as he had been trying to kill them. He’d been far more successful. She’d never forgiven him for that.
“And not a who. A what. A burning tree fell on me. Knocked me cold. A pretty little bear found me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows. “So? Heal me.”
She made a rude noise, somewhere between a laugh an
d hacking up a hairball. “First, stay away from the townspeople. They’re innocents. Why are you in America?”
“Visiting family, not that it’s your business. My mother’s family are dragons. I’ve been paying my respects to my … for lack of a better term, niece, Asri, and her clutch.” Once again, he pointed at his knee. “The leg? Unless, of course, you want to explain to the innocents why you’re letting a simple traveler suffer.”
“I could tell them the truth. That you’re not who you claim and it’s why I’m not healing you. You’re slightly less dangerous and easier to fight with a non-working leg.”
She stared at him, defiant, and he stared back. After a few long moments, he realized he was being silly. The only reason he’d come to the medical station at all was to assess the townspeople. But many who were needing attention were humans or barely Sazi. Those stronger in magic were likely healing themselves. And … the doctor was in the room with him, with a closed door.…
Not taking his eyes from hers, Tristan reached down and felt for the lump in his calf where the bone had separated. Grasping the leg below the break with one hand and above it on the opposite side with the other, he pulled and pushed sharply and felt the edges of his bone scrape and crunch. White spots appeared in his vision from the pain, but he pushed the hurt aside by taking a deep breath and letting it out in tiny bursts. He called power from deep inside himself and forced it to his purpose. This wasn’t healing magic that would soothe the damage and heal. It was raw power that blasted through the wound, leaving the nerves raw but mended in the wake. While he’d rather not have had to waste the power, he had no plans to share the reasons for his mission.
He smiled but had no doubt there was anger in the baring of teeth. “Why, thank you, Doctor.” He let his voice rise so it would carry. “What an amazing gift you have. It’s like it was never broken.”
She snorted. “You’re an ass.”
Swinging his legs off the table, he stood. A shock of protest from the nerves was quickly silenced with another assault of magic and then the leg was repaired. Not easy or neat, but done. He walked toward the door, which was being blocked by the powerful healer. He had no illusions about Amber. She was a powerful foe. But she was also primarily a pacifist. He threw out a lash of power intense enough to hold her momentarily still and silent while he grasped her shoulders, picked her up, and moved her aside. He whispered in her ear while she struggled against his power in vain, “Make no mistake, Amber. I will not tolerate any interference. Do not speak my name, or of my presence, to anyone or you can easily disappear. You know full well I do not fear your husband or any of the Council. When my business is done, I will leave and nobody will likely even know I was here.”
She’d gone still, not trying to fight the pressure on her. But the sensation that enveloped his skin and rose in her scent said she was annoyed. Not furious, likely not even angry enough to attack, so he loosened the hold on her enough so she could speak. Her voice was calm, precise. “Is there a good reason why you’re here? Enough for me to keep my mouth shut and not tell Charles and the Council?”
“It’s possible they already know. But yes.”
“What about Bobby?” She waited, and her anticipation told him she was baiting him—waiting to see if he was telling the truth that the man really was his nephew-in-law.
“He knows.”
She relaxed the rest of the way. If Bobby Mbutu knew he was here, Amber knew to trust the reason. While the python shifter could deceive and had done so before for his own purposes, the purpose was usually noble and reason enough to lie.
“So Lucas finally recruited you. I’ve been wondering when he’d start to bring in some of the older Sazi.”
That brought a choking laugh from his throat without warning, and he released the remainder of his hold on her. “Hardly. The trials and tribulations of your kind don’t interest me. The concepts of right and wrong change as often as the borders of countries. Bobby is welcome to make those distinctions. I’m only here because nobody else can do this.”
The curiosity of her cat rose to pulse against his skin, but she held it down in her voice and scent. “If the townspeople are in danger, I need to know. I was planning to leave this week, once the fire is out. Most of the residents are magically weak. They wouldn’t be able to heal themselves without me.”
Tristan shrugged. “If it goes badly, no amount of healing magic will help, so it doesn’t really matter. Go. Stay. Your choice.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, just opened the door and left. Amber didn’t follow.
The waiting room was full of people who were coughing and covered in soot. One man, who smelled of burnt flesh, held a wet cloth against his arm. No doubt respiratory issues and burns would be most of what the healer would be working on today.
Before Tristan could reach it, the door swung open and the dark-skinned man who had stayed to search for Tristan’s backpack raced in, holding the little bear. Anica was struggling to breathe, eyes wide and panicked, hands clutching her throat. She reached out, grabbing at his sleeve as she went by. Something was very wrong with her. This was no ordinary smoke inhalation. He found himself following behind, calling for the woman he’d just left. “Doctor! We need your skills!”
Amber raced out of the room where he’d been, her eyes taking in the scene. “This way!” She guided the man—Dalvin. Tristan remembered the name suddenly. He followed her into a different exam room, identical to the one he’d just left, but painted a pale green instead of peach, with all the cabinets and the sink on the reverse wall. Amber was about to shut the door when he found that he had put a hand on it and followed them inside. She raised her brows a tiny bit but let him come in before shutting the door.
“It’s not smoke.” He said it without realizing.
Dalvin nodded. “No. It’s something Anica smelled on the ground. She was looking for your backpack. I changed her to bear form. She said it would be easier to smell that way. We were talking about her father and she leaned down and sniffed around, like a bloodhound. She apparently smelled something interesting but then suddenly couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even tell us what it was. I shifted and flew her here as fast as I could. It’s only been a few minutes since it happened.”
Amber was using a lighted instrument to look up Anica’s nose and down her throat. “Everything is swollen. It’s an allergic reaction to something. There’s no magic to fix this. Dalvin, see if they have any EpiPens in this place. Check with Marilyn. Ris—I mean, Tristan, I need to do a tracheotomy to help her breathe. Hold her still.”
Dalvin raced out, calling the other woman’s name. Amber turned and started digging through cabinets and drawers until she found a sealed plastic kit of some sort. She ripped the top open with her teeth while Tristan put his hands on Anica’s shoulders and held her firmly. Those impossibly large eyes locked with his, and what he found in the depths of them was … trust. It unnerved him a little, because people didn’t trust him. He was used to suspicion. But to have her trust his touch, even though she couldn’t breathe, and put her tiny hand over his made him happy.
If Amber noticed, she didn’t comment. She extracted several items and laid them out on the table, then went to work making a small incision in Anica’s throat with a scalpel. When blood welled up, Amber made the second cut and picked up a set of forceps to open the skin and muscle. He could feel the little bear’s pain press against him, felt her hand clutching his. But she didn’t move. It made him smile at her.
“Okay, got it.” Amber put the end of a syringe against the tube and pressed the plunger. There was a tiny popping sound and then a ragged breath expanded Anica’s lungs.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Good girl.”
“Where the hell is Dalvin with that epinephrine?” Amber let out a small snarl and stalked toward the door. “Keep her breathing and don’t let her move around.”
Tristan nodded and Amber left them alone. Anica had her eyes closed, doing her best to stay calm and keep breathing th
rough the small tube. Now that he had time to concentrate, he flicked his tongue, finally catching her underlying scent through the blood. She smelled of sunshine—that nose-tickling scent of dusty warmth when the sun is shining hot, wrapped around a freshly turned pasture. He couldn’t pin down a particular grass. It was a blend of sweet, healthy growing plants and rich soil. He squeezed one shoulder and those golden eyes opened, her lips parted slightly even though she wasn’t using her mouth. “So, little bear, let’s try to find out what happened to you.”
She opened her mouth and he put a finger against it. “Don’t try to talk. Just blink those big brown eyes at me. Once for yes and twice for no. Okay?”
She blinked once.
“This didn’t happen because of smoke, did it?”
Two blinks.
“Was it something burning, maybe a chemical?”
Two more blinks.
“Did it feel like an attack, like it was intentional?”
Her eyelids dropped once. It was obvious she wanted to talk, to explain. Her expression grew frustrated and her breathing was getting more ragged as she struggled to make him understand. “Wait. I could use my magic so I could speak directly into your mind, and you into mine. Would that help?” Instead of blinking, she nodded, which nearly dislodged her breathing tube. He pushed her head back onto the table with a light touch of his finger on her forehead.
It had been a very long time since he’d slid into another person’s mind. The last had been a criminal who had refused to reveal where he’d sold a friend’s wedding ring, when Tristan lived in Jakarta. Recalling it now, he remembered the man hadn’t actually survived that intrusion. He should probably be more careful this time.
Tristan let power flow to his hand and lightly put it against the side of her face. Her skin was the exact same temperature as his hand. That was fairly unusual, because he was cold by nature. “Are you getting enough oxygen? Let me see your hand.”