Chapter 25 #2
You know, I have had it up to here with other people running my life. “I want to get cleaned up.” She enunciated each word clearly. “Julia can help me.”
“Right on. I’ll get everything.” The girl settled Sophie against pillows, yanked the quilt up. Then she bolted for the doorway, almost hit the frame, kicked the door itself, and was gone into a white-painted hall outside.
That left Sophie looking up at Cullen, who was even bigger and broader seen from this angle. “Zach.” She moistened her dry lips again, disliking the medicinal taste. Was she going to have to drink more of that crap? “What’s wrong with him?”
“You don’t know anything about Carcajou.” It wasn’t a question. Cullen’s eyes were very blue, and circled with dark rings. “Of all the Tribes, they’re best at killing upir. But that’s not what they’re famous for.”
Sophie waited, wishing she could look at the ceiling instead, or out the window. The pitiless compassion in the bear-man’s gaze was almost too much to stand.
“They don’t stop,” Cullen said quietly. “They never back down once they’ve picked a fight.
It gets them killed a lot. All of us have the fury, but they’ve got double, and doused in diesel, too.
” He sighed, heavily. “He went after you while we were all still arguing over what to do. Cut a path right through a colony of upir and took on Armitage’s wife.
Turned out she’d been running her own little playground on the side, right under her hubby’s nose. ”
Thankfully he turned away then, paced back to the window. The majir thinned, retreating into insubstantial air.
Delia. Ugh. “How do you know she—”
“Armitage sent a peace envoy. Turned out we were wrong—he hadn’t offered your ex-husband the Change.
His wife did. She was grooming him to be a successor, I’d guess.
But that’s not our main problem right now.
Zach’s still caught in his Tribe form. He’s turning into an animal, without any human to balance it out.
He won’t eat, we have to keep him tranquilized and tied down—”
“Tied down?” Her throat, scraped raw by dehydration and whatever they’d dosed her with, could only produce a thin croak.
“Otherwise, he’ll hurt himself. Or someone else. He’s still trying to rescue you.”
Oh, God. Sophie struggled to push herself up on her elbows. Made it, just barely. The unhealthy heat in her bones crested; her stomach revolved. “Are you saying he’s—”
“That’s enough.” Julia bashed back in through the doorway, her arms full of towels, clothing, and—of all things—a squirt bottle.
“Get the fuck out. I’m going to clean our shaman up and she’ll fix Zach, and then we’ll see who does what around here.
” She dumped her cargo at the bed’s foot and slapped her hands to her hips, dark eyes flashing.
“You can’t have her. She’s our shaman, our alpha rescued her. Go suck on a beehive or something.”
“She can’t even get out of bed.” Cullen sidled for the door anyway, clearly judging this battle not worth continuing. “You lose us this shaman, Carcajou, and your little Family will regret it.”
If they lose me, what happens? Sophie didn’t want to find out. She also didn’t want to be “lost.” It sounded a little more serious than taking the wrong bus, and if the way she felt was any indication, she’d probably been close to taking the wrong bus in a big way.
And never seeing Zach again.
“You know,” Julia said to the air over Cullen’s head, “I’m really not liking this whole veiled threat thing you’ve got going on. This is our shaman. She’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s right.” Sophie surprised herself; the words sounded steadier, stronger than she thought possible. “And I’d like a little privacy while I get cleaned up, Cullen. Thank you.”
He inclined his head politely and was gone, pulling the door shut with a muffled thump she suspected would have been a rattling bang if not restrained at the very last second.
“Bear Tribe.” Julia snorted. “Always so careful and cautious and stupid and boring. And that one’s got a head made out of concrete.”
You must like him. She didn’t even have the energy to say it, but Julia cocked her head as if Sophie had spoken.
“I’m sorry. You must feel awful, all covered in that crud. I’m going to clean you up, right? Then you’ll fix Zach. Right?” The girl suddenly looked very young, and not at all determined. The pale streak in her hair glittered.
As a matter of fact, with her eyes huge and round and her mouth all but trembling, Julia looked about three years old.
A weight of responsibility settled on Sophie’s aching body. They were depending on her. And she really didn’t even think she could make it to the bathroom without falling down in a heap.
Buck up, Soph. This isn’t the first impossible thing you’ve done. And where were her glasses? The world looked sharp, focused—was that real?
She lifted her chin. “Right.” As if she actually believed it. “You bet. But first I have to pee.”
* * *
The house was larger than she would have guessed from the narrow upstairs room, and was full to the brim of mingled scents—floor wax, fabric softener, delicious cooking smells, clean healthy animal fur. A whole “sleuth” of Bear Tribe lived here, Julia said, plus other Tribe were visiting.
And they were, one and all, a bit nervous. Sophie got the idea it was because they weren’t quite sure what Zach would do.
Her scalp still itched. Julia had helped her to the bathroom, where Sophie stared longingly at the shower before getting rid of some serious bladder pressure.
Then began the laborious process of scrubbing off dirt and dried blood.
Julia evinced no embarrassment whatsoever, and it was hard for Sophie to even blush when she was concentrating so hard on staying upright.
Her glasses were still missing. It felt odd not to have them perched on her face, to see every edge sharp and defined.
Julia half-carried her downstairs, Sophie’s arm over her slim shoulders.
Two bear-people were in the hall—a stocky woman who nodded at Sophie and a smaller, wider young man with beads braided into his long dishwater hair.
He smelled somehow pale, and when a low sound ran through the house’s walls he flinched.
“That’s Zach,” Julia whispered. “If he gets free the sleuth will have to stop him.”
Stop him. Sophie concentrated on one foot in front of the other.
Her arms and legs were weak as a newborn kitten’s.
The medicinal drink was still burning in her, running through her bones, but she didn’t like the unsteady queasy feeling following in its wake.
I don’t think they’ll be baking him cupcakes.
I think she means “kill him” but doesn’t want to say it.
They passed a living room, three bear-people clustered around a television, playing a video game.
One of them glanced up, sniffing deeply, and stared at Sophie.
Two more bear-people sprawled on a vast orange velour couch, sleeping snuggled together like cats.
An older man hunched in front of the window, watching the street.
He held a shotgun over his shoulder, its business end pointing at the ceiling, and yawned without blinking.
More pale light fell through the window, picking out the wiry coarseness of his hair.
The entrance to the basement was in the kitchen, which was packed with people, all smelling of fur, a few the cold silvery smell Sophie was emitting now, too.
One of those, a woman with so much eyeliner on she looked double-shiner bruised, was perched on the counter next to the sink, turning a foil pie-pan in her clever little hands.
They all froze when Sophie appeared.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” the woman with the pie-pan said.
“I want to see Zach.” Sophie lifted her chin.
“That one can’t go with you.” The pan made a crinkling noise as she scratched its bottom, lightly. “She’s too dominant. Timbo, where’s the sub-Carcajou?”
“Downstairs.” This was another eyeliner-painted girl, but without the easy authority and silvery smell. “I’ll get him.”
The woman nodded. Something about her quick hands and her ringed eyes was oddly familiar, as well. “Be careful.”
“Brenn will take you down,” Julia said in Sophie’s ear. A low thrumming rose from below the floor, and everyone in the room tensed again. “Anyone else would smell too dominant.”
“This is his mate?” A young man, a bear by the look of him, leaned against a door that must lead out to the backyard.
Mate? Sophie blinked. What?
“Yup.” Julia’s chin lifted, proudly. “Fell in love with her right away. That’s why he went and rescued her while you idiots were all running around in yapping circles.”
“Better put a leash on that girl’s mouth, shaman.” The raccoon-eyed woman on the counter rattled the pan. Her small, sharp nose wrinkled. “She’s not making any friends.”
Somehow Sophie doubted making friends was high on Julia’s agenda. She decided to distract the girl. “Mate? Does that mean what I think it means?”
A ripple of amusement ran through the assembly just as the cellar door opened and Brenn appeared.
He looked exhausted, and like he’d lost a few pounds. His clothes were disheveled, painted with dirt, and there was a massive, fantastic bruise up the side of his face. His hair hung lank and greasy; his big dark eyes were wet, red-rimmed.
But he brightened when he saw Sophie, weariness falling away. “Oh, thank God.” The instant relief was kind of scary. What was even scarier was that she could smell it, through a wash of musk also eerily familiar—and just as comforting as Julia’s scent.
“Hold her up.” Julia straightened, and Brenn pushed through the crowded room. He looked even more thin and tired up close.
Sophie’s arm was over his shoulder in a trice. “He’s getting more and more upset.” Brenn’s entire body vibrated nervously, trembling. “And it looks a little… well…”