Chapter Three
Lewis
Too busy to let a headache and cough slow me down, I went about my day and attempted to ignore it. Maybe it was something in the air, possibly a cold, but none of that was a big enough deal to miss a meeting. Especially one online where I couldn’t pass on any germs, if I had any.
I brought up my iPad and entered the meeting room where my contact at the specialty shop already waited. “Hello. I hope I’m not late.” My throat tickled, and I took another sip of tea, hoping to suppress my coughs for the duration of the meeting.
It wouldn’t be long, after all.
But not two minutes in, I went into a coughing fit, and the buyer’s expression showed his doubt that we would be able to continue. “Do you want to reschedule, Lewis?”
I didn’t, but when I tried to reply, I couldn’t get enough breath before another coughing fit stopped me.
“I’m going to say we should.” He shook his head. “Whatever you’ve got, I hope you’ve seen a healer.”
Sucking in air, I managed to get out, “I’ll be fine, but how about same time next week?”
“Sounds good. I have the information you sent and I’ll go ahead and place the order online. Just get some rest and get well soon.”
“Sorry. This is”—hacking, I waved at the camera—“annoying.”
“I can imagine. Honey should help, right?”
I nodded. Usually it would be enough. It always had been in the past. “Won’t hurt.” That much was true. In a space between coughs, I choked out another apology and a thank-you for his order then disconnected.
Other than the occasional headache, I was rarely ill and couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a healer.
Well before my dads died. While I’d heard good things about the current Oliver Creek healer, Quinn, and had seen him around town, my experiences with his predecessor had left me no desire to try another.
Fortunately, I had a strong constitution and had been ill only a handful of times in my life.
Many humans—the ones who believed in us at all—thought we couldn’t get ill, incorrectly.
While we did not catch viruses and germs from humans and could heal many things just by shifting, we did have a few issues that our beasts could not fix.
Some types of broken bones, loss of limbs, and a few viral or stomach illnesses sprang to mind.
Honey and shifting and maybe a little rest along with good hydration had taken care of whatever had ailed me in the past, but not with whatever this horror show was.
It had started with a tickle in my throat then moved on to light cold symptoms before becoming a dry cough that grew worse by the day.
A misdiagnosis by the previous healer had led to a nearly fatal allergic reaction to a prescription, so no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I should give the new one a chance, should let the experience of others guide me…I could not bring myself to do it.
But I couldn’t go on the way I was. The cough not only irritated me and anyone I spoke to, it was wearing me down. At some point, it would get serious. I reached inside with the idea that I would shift again and see if it would help. It hadn’t the last three times, but what else could I try?
No. The voice inside emerged weak and thin. I can’t.
How sick was I that my bear was refusing to take his fur?
Usually he was humming away beneath my skin, waiting for an opportunity to come out and amble around in search of snacks.
I thought about some of his favorite berries I’d seen ripening in the woods, hoping to encourage him, but he went silent.
I closed my eyes and strained, pushing, pulling, or whatever that meant, but my bear lay quiescent inside me, dead weight, unwilling or unable to come forth.
So, no go on the shifting thing. With the previous lack of success in that area, it probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway. I just hoped my bear wasn’t feeling as ill as I did and that once I resolved the situation, he would be his old self.
But how to resolve it?
With no better ideas, I decided to go to town and buy the makings for chicken garlic ginger cold-buster soup, my grandmother’s recipe.
I’d have done it sooner if it had come to my foggy brain.
It also had turmeric, pretty well covering all the bases.
She’d insisted that it was magical, and I believed her.
Her mustard plasters…well, I wasn’t that desperate yet.
They were hot, stinky, borderline painful, and I didn’t want to go there if I didn’t have to.
Still…I’d buy the ingredients so if I did get to that point, I wouldn’t have to make another trip.
Doubled over coughing, I wished I’d had this idea yesterday, but no coughing over spilled soup.
Town was close by, and at this time of year, the sidewalks were crowded with foodies and other visitors.
Great for business but lousy for parking.
The small lot by the local market had not a single free space, leading me to park on a side street and walk two blocks while trying not to cough enough to scare everyone out of town.
Two blocks felt like a mile for a bear shifter with aching muscles, and I negotiated with myself about what to buy at the store, knowing I’d have to carry it back with me.
Maybe powdered ginger instead of fresh…might be lighter.
Only the three cloves of garlic the recipe called for.
Two carrots instead of a bagged couple of pounds.
And boneless chicken thighs instead of a whole chicken that sounded like a bag of concrete.
I paused to catch my breath in front of a new store in town and looked in the window. For a small place, it was quite busy with customers browsing and waiting to check out. The walls were lined with jars and packages, and I suddenly realized what it was.
Several friends had recommended the place for supplements and all things healthy.
They tended to be the ones who preferred alternative healing over the traditional, although there was some overlap.
Maybe this would be helpful in addition to the chicken soup and possible mustard plaster.
But it was so crowded, I continued on toward the grocery store, planning to stop in the shop on the way back.
I’d never been so grateful to be able to lean on a cart while selecting my items, and soon I was on the way back with two bags that, despite my best intentions, weighed a ton.
If I went to the car first, I’d never have the energy to return to the little store, so I paused in the doorway, noting the place was still filled with customers.
A male was helping them all, an omega buzzing from person to person, offering suggestions and taking them to the counter to check them out.
A lot for one person to do. My bear perked up at the sight of him, urging me forward.
I didn’t want to add to his burden, but perhaps he had something to offer that would help me feel better. And then, the cough that I had held at bay for the last fifteen minutes burst out, and I turned away.