The Plague Doctor: The Paranormal University Files: Skylar, Year 3

by Savage, Vivienne

  Sebastian trotted to Simon’s side in his wolf form, but he stopped and balked, transforming to take his shotgun in both hands. “Is that…?”

  All of Blaire’s attention remained on Sebastian and Simon. When he bounded forward again, a column of fire swirled around him from the rear as another sentinel strode into view. Above them, a raven shifter crouched on the railing with a rifle. He fired. One bullet wasn’t enough.

  “Don’t look, Sky,” Gabriel whispered against my hair. He had me wrapped in his arms still, holding me like a security blanket.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and flinched when Sebastian’s shotgun roared. Blaire made a sound I’d never forget, a whining yelp that stabbed through my heart. Then there was silence.

  It didn’t matter how much my body hurt anymore. I knew this wolf. I’d run with him through the woods. I’d hunted rabbits alongside him in Tir na Nog.

  “Everyone back to base,” Simon ordered. “No one leaves until everyone is checked, and I mean everyone.” His eyes fell on me and the scratches on my neck. “Come here, Corazzi. Let’s have a look at those.”

  Alarmed, Gabriel stiffened. “They’re scratches, Simon. One of them scratched her with its nails. That’s all.”

  “Better to let him check and be sure,” I murmured, squeezing Gabriel’s fingers. I didn’t feel any different. Sore. Drained.

  As Simon led me away to a table, my faithful raven stayed right at my heels. We bypassed base entirely and sat down on the rim of the indoor fountain. Simon tilted my chin up and swabbed the scrapes. He studied the cotton tips, dipped them into a vial, swirled the liquid around, and watched for a few seconds. Nothing abnormal happened. I took that as a good sign.

  “Where’s Stark? Gabriel and I heard him call for help, then B-Blaire showed up.”

  “He’s safe. We got him down from the vents where he’d been hiding. Broke his wing. Arm. But he’ll be fine.”

  Gabriel exhaled a relieved breath. “What about Gunthrie?”

  “Alive and in better shape than Stark.” Simon applied a low-level healing spell to the back of my head. “This is going to be tender for the rest of the day. You have a concussion from that fall, but your sylph nature saved you from suffering worse.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sylphs can take falls that most other supernaturals can’t survive.”

  Silence fell over our small group again. Simon was chanting. We let him cast in peace, and immediately, the stiffness in my shoulders eased.

  “Simon,” Gabriel began in a quiet voice, “I thought we couldn’t… How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know, but sentinel training is suspended until we can get answers.” The older mage clenched his jaw. After pressing the back of his hand to my brow, he relaxed. “I’m sorry the both of you had to see that.”

  Gabriel said nothing. Neither did I.

  “You’ll be fine, but I’m going to recommend an antiviral shot just in case. Zombies carry disgusting germs beneath their nails.”

  “Told you,” Gabriel said.

  “And you’ll want to remain near a restroom for the next day or two. In fact, it may be for the best if you’re at the infirmary where a nurse can take care of you.”

  “I’ll watch her,” Gabriel volunteered.

  Provost Riordan strode into view, the clack of her heels announcing her arrival. “Excellent. In that case, we’ll administer a prophylactic serum and you’ll maintain watch over Miss Corazzi.”

  Oh no.

  The provost brought out a large needle and drew lime green liquid from a bottle. She tapped it to remove the air bubbles and approached as my queasy stomach lurched. Swallowing down the bile, I turned my face to the side and refused to look while Simon scrubbed a patch of my arm with an alcohol wipe.

  A split second of studying Gabriel’s worried face filled me with regret. I couldn’t look at him either, and avoiding his tight features didn’t leave much except for the ferns growing in the fountain flowerbed.

  I flinched as the needle broke through my skin. The serum burned.

  “You’ll be nauseous for a day or so, of course, but alive. You don’t have a shifter’s regenerative factor, and I’ve seen cases of humans having to undergo limb amputation after an infection from a mere zombie scratch.”

  There went all of our weekend plans—not that I could have gallivanted around Chicago after what we witnessed.

  “Okay,” I agreed in a quiet, subdued voice.

  “Do take care of her, Mr. Fujimoto.” Using her staff and a small piece of chalk affixed to the bottom, Riordan drew us a portal leading to the campus. The window created by it revealed the front lobby of Gabriel’s building in the Griffin Quarters. It snapped shut behind us.

  6

  Misery Does Not Love Company

  We crossed paths with a few upperclassmen on the way to Gabriel’s apartment, but our haggard, blood-smeared appearances didn’t faze anyone. They stepped aside and let us pass without subjecting us to a game of Twenty Questions.

  “Call Lia and ask her to pack you a few things,” Gabe said after he let us into his apartment.

  “Are you really going to watch me all weekend? You have better things to do with your Sunday.” And the remaining hours of his Saturday, for that matter.

  A tired grin livened his face, erasing a fraction of the exhaustion. “Baby, I got the best Netflix and Chill lineup ready for us based on flicks you wanna see but lacked the time to watch. This’ll be great. Go ahead and make whatever calls you need to make, then you can have first crack at the shower.”

  “Okay.”

  While he did whatever, I popped my phone out of the Neverspace and fired off a text to Lia, summarizing the events, promising I wasn’t an undead, drooling monster, and asking if she’d bring me an overnight bag with a change of clothes. She abandoned Messenger and called me instead.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Lia blurted.

  “I am, I promise. The meds are supposed to make me a little woozy is all. So, it was this or spend the night in the infirmary, and that’s a yummy food-free zone, as we all know.”

  My lame joke earned a quiet laugh. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to come home and let us take care of you? I don’t mind.”

  The smell of bleach crept into my nose from somewhere in the apartment. “I’m okay here. Gabe would probably fight you for me at this point. He’s all psyched about movie marathons. And…and he needs me here.”

  “Then I’ll be there in a few. You rest and take it easy. Let him take care of you,” Lia ordered before ending the call.

  When I turned around, Gabriel was wiping down all of his equipment.

  And he had stripped down to his boxers.

  His clothes, everything he’d been wearing that had gross zombie gore and pieces on it, had been stuffed into a bag, and he had a bottle of cleaning solution. Holy abs. Seeing it all during our summer break together did not detract from how eye-meltingly gorgeous my boyfriend was without his clothes.

  “Pass your gear over and I’ll clean it, too.”

  “Gabe?”

  “Hm?” He glanced up, oblivious.

  “You know I have magic, right? I could just fingersnap like Thanos and make all the bad stuff disappear.” I did, to demonstrate my amazing fae power. Glamour whisked all the gross coagulated blood away from my person and his biohazard bagged gear.

  He paused, staring at me while I unbuckled my boots and stepped out of them. “Why didn’t you do that when we left the mall?”

  A surge of queasiness settled in my stomach. Using that much magic had been a bad idea. So had bending over. “I didn’t think about it.” Frankly, I’d been freaked out by the needle and The Event That Shall Not Be Discussed.

  “Well, nothing can truly replace a hot shower, not even magic. You go ahead and get cleaned up while I make a few calls. If Lia isn’t here with your stuff when you’re done, you can borrow some of my clothes.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t argue, but I did pause at the t
hreshold of his bedroom. Conflict settled in my gut. Did I let him tough-guy his way out of losing another friend, or did I embarrass him by doting in return? “Are you okay?”

  A brief moment passed before he answered. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take the couch tonight and you can sleep in my bed.”

  “What? No. I can’t kick you out of your bed.” Our physical intimacy level had developed in great leaps and bounds over the summer. It turned out that there were safe alternatives to penetration that didn’t cement a bond.

  After a Claiming, penis-in-vagina sexual intercourse for shifters meant bonding as a mated couple, a form of shapeshifter matrimony. The government recognized it and everything.

  My mind wandered, though. I wondered what happened if shapeshifters weren’t a het couple.

  I did not wonder enough to ask Simon or Sebastian.

  Okay, I did wonder. A lot.

  But out of respect I wouldn’t ask.

  “I kicked myself out of it,” he countered, bringing my wandering attention back to the present. “Besides, aren’t you fae all delicate fairy tale princesses or something? You won’t get a minute of rest out here on my lumpy sofa.”

  “We’ll argue more after my shower.” Better to concede for the moment and bring it up later.

  “Okay, so see ya in two or three hours.”

  “I do not take that long.”

  He quirked a brow. “Uh-huh.”

  “Ass.”

  I stalked off. Without Rodrigo around, his bachelor pad stayed cleaner longer. The bathroom had a spacious shower with a stone floor behind a frosted glass door. Aside from a comb, his toothbrush, and a few basic toiletries, Gabriel kept nothing on the counter. And he didn’t leave towels piled on the floor.

  I shed my clothes and left them on the floor for the moment. Hot water blasted out promptly and reached lobster-boiling temperature within seconds. The spray pelted against my skin in a heavenly massage. Gabe was right, magic couldn’t replace the wonder that was a steamy shower. For a few minutes I simply stood there, eyes closed while the water washed away my aches and pains.

  And since Lia hadn’t arrived yet with my cucumber melon body wash and other essentials, I helped myself to Gabe’s stuff. There was something relaxing about it. Comforting. I lathered up, surrounded by the smell of sandalwood.

  That was the wrong, wrong smell. Everything in my stomach came up at once, violently heaving the energy drink I’d chugged along with thick, gross bile. The ferocity of my angry stomach took me by surprise and brought me to my knees.

  Five minutes later, I still hadn’t moved from the floor as ripples of pain swept through my abdomen and my stomach cramped up like it had been condensed into a tiny, leaden ball.

  Then I lost track of the time. The water still pounded my naked shoulders and back, and the adrenaline crash took root, leaving me weak as a pathetic, half-drowned kitten on Gabriel’s shower floor.

  A rap at the bathroom door told me he was there. I tried to answer, but a pitiful moan escaped me instead.

  “Sky?”

  “Errrgh.”

  Gabriel cracked the shower door. “Hey, I’m coming in. Lia brought a bag of your stuff.”

  I repeated the same attempt to speak, but dry-heaved again, since my stomach hadn’t gotten the message that there was nothing else in there for it to throw up.

  “Oh, shit!”

  He didn’t hesitate to open the foggy glass door. “C’mere.”

  I thought they’d given me a cure. The reality was more like death. Gabriel turned the water off, tore a towel down from the rack, and crouched beside me. He covered my body before scooping me into his arms. I ended up in his bed, still wrapped in the towel.

  “I’m sorry,” I moaned miserably while he rubbed my back in slow circles.

  “You don’t owe me any apologies, Sky.”

  “Stupid zombies.”

  He used another towel on my hair, soaking up water with a gentle touch.

  “Will you sit here with me for a little bit? Just ’til I fall asleep?”

  “Of course I will. Let me get another towel.”

  By the time he finished tucking me in, I had a clean towel under my still-damp hair and warm blankets tucked up to my chin.

  “Sleep, Sky. I’m gonna get cleaned up, but I’ll be here when you wake up, promise.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom and left the door open behind him, though the opening wasn’t within my line of sight from the bed. The shower squeaked on again.

  I dozed, lulled by the sound of Gabriel singing in the shower.

  * * *

  Insatiable hunger drove me from the bed. I had no idea how long I’d slept, or even what day it was, and since I didn’t have my phone in a familiar spot, I couldn’t even refer to it for orientation. No matter. I didn’t need to know the time to stuff my face.

  I wanted meat. Something greasy and delicious, but definitely something cooked at least.

  When I crawled out from under Gabriel’s arm, he grumbled and made…the most adorable, almost birdlike little noise. Then he burrowed into the blankets again.

  Ama raised the alarm soon as I stumbled into the living room. Shrieking, she stood on a perch facing the kitchen, pacing back and forth with intermittent pauses to furiously beat her wings. People who said birds don’t have personalities and feelings had never been around the little terrors. She sounded as disgruntled as any human would getting woken up in the middle of the night.

  Crap. I’d forgotten Gabe didn’t always cage her at night.

  Hesitation made me pause, but the ferocious hunger gnawing in my belly had wrung me out like a dried-up sponge. Driven by the need for food and drink, I took my chances and hurried past the perch.

  Blissfully cool air rushed over me when I opened the fridge. Sadly, that’s where the good stopped. Gabe’s fridge didn’t exactly have a lot of options. Almond milk, rice in a Tupperware bowl, and some suspicious-looking pizza in a Ziploc bag. Were those green olives or mold spots?

  Cereal would have to do.

  I poured a big bowl of Frosted Flakes—his bowls could feed Dwayne Johnson—then shoveled spoonfuls into my mouth. The first bites into my painfully empty stomach were euphoric, like the first sip of water after a marathon through the desert.

  Ama screamed again.

  “You’re going to wake your daddy,” I told her around a mouthful of cereal.

  “Um. Already woke.”

  I fumbled the bowl and spilled milk over the sides. Turning brought me face-to-face with Gabriel standing less than a couple yards away. Feeling dumb and ridiculously exposed in the least sexy way of all, I dropped my chin and mumbled, “I was hungry.”

  “Maybe I should put you back in bed.”

  “But I’m starving.” To prove my point, I hoovered another heaping spoonful.

  “Yeah, but…” He struggled to find words, his eyes focused on my face.

  My eyes, however, were traitors. They chose that moment to focus below the low-riding waistband of his briefs and take in Gabriel’s semi-erection.

  What fresh hell was this? Starvation and arousal did not belong together.

  “C’mon, I’ll put you back in bed.”

  Like a stubborn child, I hunched my shoulders and brought the cereal bowl closer to my chest, defiantly taking another bite. No way was he depriving me.

  He put one arm around my back and guided me toward the bedroom. By the time we reached the bed, I’d gobbled every last soggy flake and spooned up all the milk. Gabe took the empty bowl and set it aside, nudging me back into the sheets. When he pulled the blankets up, I kicked them off

  “It’s too hot.”

  “You’re butt-ass nekkid.”

  “And hot. It’s a million degrees in here.”

  He cocked a brow. “Sixty-five. I keep it cool. Shifter, remember?”

  My disgruntled groan made him lay his hand against my forehead. After a few seconds he frowned.

  “You’re really hot.”

  “To
ld you.”

  Gabe grabbed his phone from the bedside table and started to quickly tap at the screen, muttering about something to do with the infirmary.

  “Don’t wanna go there,” I mumbled.

  He shushed me. “Simon seems to think this is normal but says if your temp goes too high to call the healers.”

  “Nuh-uh. You asked for this. Now you’re stuck with me.” Mom always said I was a terrible patient.

  Gabriel’s attention returned to his phone. He groaned, tapped the voicemail button, and then listened long enough for me to hear his mother’s voice demanding to know if he was all right, what had happened, and if he’d been one of the sentinels reportedly injured. “Twenty-one missed calls. Really, Mom?”

  “She loves you.”

  “I know. I better return them.” He pulled the sheet up to my waist. “You sleep. I’ll pick up breakfast when the sun comes up, deal?”

  “M’kay.”

  Last thing I heard before sleep pulled me under again was Gabriel talking down his worried mother.

  7

  Shifter TLC

  “Sky? You awake, babe?”

  I was, but I didn’t want to be. Instead, I curled up into a ball under the blankets and groaned. The mattress shifted under Gabe’s weight. I peeked through my lashes and saw he had one knee planted on the mattress so he could lean over me.

  “Still hungry? I cooked and, uh, I know Lia brought you some clothes, but you’re welcome to wear one of my shirts if you want.”

  My stomach grumbled, the offer of food luring me from my cozy hidey-hole. “OJ?”

  “I didn’t buy any, but I can get some from the girls next door. They grow everything in there, somehow.”

  He lived next door to a pair of dryads in their senior year. I hadn’t interacted with them much beyond the occasional greeting when we passed each other in the quad or his hallway, but everyone on campus knew if you wanted something “special” cultivated, they were the ones to go to. They’d somehow grown a strain of pixieweed that smelled like strawberries to even the most perceptive werewolf professors.