Driving Force

by Andrews, Jo

  On the other side of the clearing where another large tent had been erected, the same thing was happening among the allies. Everyone was dressed now. Some of the adolescent wolves had run back and recovered the clothing that had been discarded before the fight. Kurt and Thorvald were directing operations.

  A stretcher was carried past her. She glanced at it, then leaped to her feet when she saw the face of the Shifter lying on it.

  “Wait! Where are you taking him?”

  “To the recovery tent,” one of the stretcher bearers answered. They both had the shaggy streaky-brown hair and rangy bodies that suggested they were wolves. “He’s in the healing flux.”

  Kihain was cut up badly and bleeding heavily. The fever had already taken hold of him and he was shifting uncontrollably between human and lion.

  “Kihain!” she said, but he stared right through her without recognition, his eyes unseeing.

  “Do you know him?” the stretcher bearer who had appointed himself spokesman asked, wrinkling up his nose in distaste. “He’s one of theirs.”

  Kihain’s human form wore the black leathers and the gold ear stud. Sierra could understand how the mistake had happened.

  “No, he’s not! He’s ours! He fought on our side. You’re taking him to the wrong tent. He belongs with us!”

  Both bearers scowled. “Our people will not like waking up with him beside them.”

  “Then put him in a corner where he’ll be alone! I don’t want him with Arrhan’s bunch. They might take it out on him that he fought for us, and he’s helpless and can’t defend himself. Reece!”

  Over at the containment area, Reece turned. She beckoned to him urgently. He was their leader. He could make them obey her.

  But instead of coming over, he just waved a hand impatiently and yelled, “Give her whatever she wants.”

  The stretcher bearers glanced at each other. Then, to her relief, they shrugged and headed toward the allied tent.

  Left alone once again, Sierra waited. Time passed all too slowly. At last, the tall woman, Asha, came out of the field surgery and smiled wearily at her.

  “We’ve gotten the bullets out.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Sierra fought back the tears. “How is he?”

  “He’s doing as well as can be expected.”

  “But he will be all right?”

  “We can’t tell just yet. It depends on how the fever takes him.”

  “May I see him?”

  “You can stay with him if you like. He’ll be in the ICU at the main tent.”

  So he wasn’t out of danger yet. Not if he was in intensive care and they allowed her to be with him. That meant they thought he still might die.

  The big tent had been partitioned by canvas walls into makeshift wards and cubicles based on the severity of the injuries. Foam pads on the ground served as beds and there was none of the electronic equipment that hospitals usually had. Everything was jury rigged, but the medics who moved among the patients looked as if they knew what they were doing.

  When she found Ian, he was deep in the healing fever, shifting uncontrollably between forms. He had shifted once when the bullets were still in him, but that shift had been slow and sluggish. Now the change from human to leopard and back again was rapid. That should have made her feel relieved, but he was shifting frighteningly fast, with no pause between the changes, no period of rest as there had been when he was hurt before. Surely that wasn’t normal.

  She tried asking questions, which were blandly evaded by the medics—the fever took many forms, this was one of them, they would just have to wait it out.

  “Reece!” she called, seeing his rangy form pass by the open end of the cubicle. Luckily, the medics were busy with other patients and she was alone with Ian at the time.

  He stopped and came in. “How’s he doing?”

  She looked up at him from the foam pad they had given her too so that she could sit or lie beside Ian.

  “I don’t know. They won’t tell me. All medical people seem to hate to commit themselves. ‘As well as can be expected.’ What the hell does that mean?”

  Reece gave a snort of scornful amusement. “Typical.”

  “I need to know the truth, Reece. Can you find out for me?”

  He looked down at Ian’s constantly shifting form. “Has he been doing this all the time?”

  “Yes. Is that normal?”

  “No. He’s gone into overdrive. The condition’s pretty rare. It’s probably because of the stress he was under before he was shot and the adrenaline running through him at the time. His body thinks it’s vital for him to recover as quickly as possible.”

  “But that’s good!” She looked at his grim face. “Isn’t it?”

  “Not really. A lot of major organs were hit and he’s trying to repair them all at the same time and on a priority basis. That’s a huge strain on the system. It’s completely instinctive, a kill-or-cure reaction that happens when the Shifter believes there’s an immediate threat of death if he doesn’t recover at once. Because of enemies or natural disasters or something similar. You follow?”

  She nodded. “But there’s no need for it! Arrhan’s dead and there’s no longer a danger!”

  “His body doesn’t know that. The adrenaline triggered the syndrome and now it’s got to run its course.”

  Wait it out, the medics had said. They hadn’t been lying, just not telling the whole truth.

  “Couldn’t they sedate him, slow it down somehow?”

  “That’s as risky as the overdrive. Shifters don’t react well to sedatives. That could arrest the fever entirely and then he won’t heal at all. He’ll just die.”

  “Oh God!”

  “He needs that fever. But that fever could burn him out. Catch-22.” He gave her a wry but not unsympathetic look. “Are you sorry I told you?”

  Sierra drew a long, shuddering breath. “No. I’d rather know the truth. Thank you, Reece.”

  “De nada.” He gave her a malicious smile. “It’s always fun to bring bad news. Gotta check on one of my youngsters who was stupid enough to go up against a lion alone and got himself munched on. See you later.”

  She watched him go. Still unconscious, Ian made a guttural sound beside her. She bent over him, stroking the sweat-damp strands of his hair away from his face.

  “Stay with me, Ian,” she whispered. “Stay with me. You can’t die. I couldn’t bear it.”

  His eyes opened but they were blank and blind. He didn’t see her.

  “I love you,” she said intensely. “I always have. That’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it? But I never admitted it, not even to myself. I’m telling you now. Hear me. I love you.”

  Segueing into the leopard, segueing back, endlessly convulsing, he didn’t hear.

  She kept talking to him, as she had talked when he was fevered before. It had seemed to help then. Now it appeared to make no difference. Neither did her touch, but she held his hand anyway, uncaring that its texture changed from smooth skin to soft fur incessantly or that she had to be careful not to press too tightly upon his pads when his hand was a paw to avoid forcing his claws from their sheaths.

  The medics came and went, their faces uncommunicative. The agonizing night wore on.

  Her back ached from sitting without support cross-legged on the thin foam pad, but she didn’t dare to lie down. If she lay down, she might fall asleep. Illogically, she felt as if only her fixed attention was keeping Ian from slipping away forever. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t relinquish her vigil.

  “Sierra,” he whispered.

  She jerked out of the almost-trance she had fallen into, nearly toppling over. “Ian?”

  His eyes were open and aware. He was seeing her.

  “Oh God, Ian, you’re awake! And you’re not shifting anymore!”

  He had stabilized into his human form. She wanted to fling her arms around him, hold him tight, but didn’t dare in case that hurt him or interfered with the healing process.
>
  He frowned, his fingers tightening on hers. “What happened?”

  “We won.”

  His eyes widened as the memory came back, then he smiled. “Got the bastard.”

  “You sure did.”

  “Everything will be okay now.” He touched his chest. “He shot me, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but I think you’re recovering now.”

  The gashes and bullet holes on his body were completely gone now, not even scars remaining. Only stitches marked where his wounds had been. But she didn’t know what might be going on inside him. He was still hot to the touch.

  “I’ve got to find the medics. They said to tell them the minute there was a change.”

  “Don’ let ’em keep you away,” he muttered, his voice slurring.

  “Promise.”

  She found the statuesque woman doctor talking to medics in the next section.

  “Awake, is he? Excellent news.” Asha nodded to one of the medics, who headed for the cubicle at once. “Now I’d like you to go wash, eat and walk around a little bit.”

  Sierra was stiff from her long vigil, but she didn’t want to leave Ian. “I’m staying with him!”

  “Of course you may. But we have to do a few tests. Come back in half an hour.”

  “All right,” she said reluctantly.

  Dawn was just breaking as she made her way out of the tent. In the dim gray light she could see the shapes of wolves and lions prowling around the containment area where Arrhan’s followers were huddled. Arrhan’s body was gone, as were all the other bodies that had been scattered across the clearing. Taken away somewhere for burial, she guessed.

  Ian was still human when she got back to him. The medic had removed his stitches and covered him with a blanket. When she touched his hand, his skin was definitely cooler. The fever seemed to be lessening.

  “Overdrive, huh?” he murmured, smiling drowsily up at her. “How about that? Real good thing.”

  “It could have killed you!”

  “But it didn’t.” He yawned hugely. “Sleepy. You should sleep too. They said you were up all night watching over me.”

  “I’ll sleep.”

  He reached out to tug her mattress over so that it butted right up against his, then pulled her down to lie beside him.

  “We both will. Together. The way it should be.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Ian, this is supposed to be a hospital. There are people coming in and out of here all the time.”

  “Just sleep.” He turned onto his side and dropped an arm across her waist to snuggle her against him. “I’m in no condition for anything else. However, once I wake up…”

  She laughed. “I think you’re being a bit optimistic.”

  “Overdrive, remember?” He grinned at her. “Tomorrow I’ll be myself again and raring to go.”

  There was something new in his eyes, an odd shining look. He slid down a little and nestled his head with a contented sigh into the curve of her shoulder. Her insides melted with tenderness. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

  “Reece was here,” he said.

  It figured. “That man has a genius for being around at all the right moments.”

  “He likes you too. Told me what you did. It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who opened up that gap in Arrhan’s defenses.”

  “It was the only way I could help.”

  “My Mouse with fangs,” he murmured on the drowsy breath of a laugh.

  She felt him slide into sleep—natural sleep, not the almost-coma of the healing fever. She hugged his head to her and fell into sleep herself, her lips against his hair.

  When she woke, he was gone and the blanket was draped over her. She sat up in a wild panic.

  “Hey,” he said, coming in the open end of the cubicle. “Rise and shine. It’s past two.”

  “You’re walking!”

  “Told you I’d be raring to go in no time.” He grinned at her. “Nick went and got his Jeep and a change of clothes for both of us. Hurry and clean up, then we can go home.”

  “Not yet,” said Asha sternly behind him. “You’re not leaving until I’ve looked you over. The kind of overdrive you went through is not to be taken lightly.”

  Ian sighed. “If you weren’t a bear…”

  So that explained her height and size, thought Sierra, who had wondered. She felt as if there should also have been angel wings attached to the lady. She had kept Ian alive.

  “But I am a bear.” Asha grinned. “And you really don’t want me getting cranky. We’re dangerous when crossed. Go and wash and have something to eat, Sierra. I’ll send him over when I’m done.”

  Sierra was just finishing her coffee when Ian came strolling up an hour later. He was walking with care, but without the stiffness that came with pain. He wasn’t hurting inside any longer.

  “Got the all clear,” he said with satisfaction.

  “You’re still a little shaky on your feet,” she said worriedly.

  “Won’t be in a little while.”

  “The fever leaves you hungry, doesn’t it? You should get something to eat.”

  “I just finished a steak. Asha let me eat while she was checking me out. She’s got more sense than Doc. Prettier too.”

  “Should I be jealous?”

  “Women who can crush me like a bug scare me.” He grinned then gave her a half-lidded, sensual look. “But feel free to be jealous.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. They both looked around as a sudden surge of noise came from outside the tent. Ian went to the tent flap and pulled it aside to look out. She hurried after him and he dropped an arm across her shoulders to steady himself.

  A lot of Shifters were milling about in the clearing. Sierra saw Thorvald’s huge form looming over all of them, with Kurt and Reece beside him.

  “What’s going on?”

  “The clan leaders have made a decision about Arrhan’s troops.” Ian was watching the bustle intently. “Thorvald told me about it a few minutes ago. They’re going to be sent back to their own dimension. Iseya’s going to open the Gate for them. Thorvald talked her into that. She’s being surprisingly cooperative.”

  Iseya was sitting with an odd, graceless angularity on the fur-covered boulder Arrhan had used as a throne, staring blankly into space. She looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut. In a way, she was. Her whole being had been centered on Arrhan. Now he was dead, she seemed to have stopped as well.

  Doc’s anesthetic would have worn off by now and Iseya would be able to use her powers once again. If she chose to turn her magic against them, not one of them had the ability to fight back. But there seemed to be no anger in her, just a bone-deep apathy.

  “She doesn’t care anymore now that Arrhan’s dead,” Sierra said, wishing there were some way to comfort her. “She loved him.”

  Ian glanced down at her. “Is that the way it was?”

  “Yeah. With her, it was always what he wanted. Now that he’s dead, it’s like nothing matters to her. I thought she might want revenge for his death. She’s still a mage. She could fry us or hit us with God knows what kinds of spells. But look at her. It’s like we don’t exist. Or like she doesn’t exist anymore,” Sierra finished under her breath.

  Ian’s lips compressed. “I can empathize.”

  She turned her head to rub her cheek against his collarbone. “So can I. I’d have wanted to die if Arrhan had killed you, Ian.”

  His arm tightened about her. “Sierra…”

  There was movement on the other side of the clearing. Shifters still deep in the healing fever were being brought out on stretchers to join the walking wounded in the containment area.

  “Kihain!” Sierra exclaimed. “We have to tell him he can go home if he wants to.”

  They found him in a cubicle of the allied tent. His wounds were only partially closed and the fever was still working in him, but he was alive and conscious. His poor, battered face lit up when Sierra bent over him.


  “Lady…”

  “How are you doing, Kihain?”

  “I will mend. I killed them,” he said proudly. “All three. I fought…”

  “I saw.”

  “I fought for the Way. As I should have done before. I finally found the courage. Forgive…”

  “You’re forgiven, Kihain,” she said gently. “I couldn’t have made it to Iseya without you. You redeemed yourself when you did that.”

  “No,” he sighed. “Never. Too much ill done. Honor lost. Cannot regain it, can only try to make amends.”

  “By making amends, you regained it.”

  He shook his head fretfully. “It is not that easy.”

  Then his gaze went past her and his eyes widened. Sierra looked over her shoulder and saw that Kurt had come up behind them.

  “You’ve redeemed your honor, boy,” Kurt said quietly. “There is a place for you in the Lowe pride if you wish it.”

  “Oh,” said Kihain on a lost breath.

  Sierra touched his hand to regain his attention. “But Iseya will be opening the Gate any minute now. So you can go back to your own world if you don’t want to stay here.”

  “There is nothing for me there. I would rather stay. If…if you will permit it.” His voice was disbelieving and his hesitant upward glance begged for reassurance as he looked from her to Kurt.

  “This might be your last chance to leave,” Sierra warned. “Once Iseya’s gone, there won’t be anyone in this world who can open the Gate.”

  “I no longer have a home there and I do not wish to return to the life of an outcast.”

  “You have a home with the Lowes. Or with us,” said Ian. “We’d be glad to have you.”

  “After…what I’ve done?”

  “It’s all forgotten,” Sierra said gently. “The good and bad balance each other out. You can start fresh.”

  His lips trembled. “You will not regret it this time. I swear it!”

  Ian reached down to thump his one uninjured shoulder. “Do you remember saying your life is mine? I’m holding you to that. Stray off the Way again and you’ll regret it.”