“Nick.” My hand reaches out to him, but he has already turned away and darted back into the trees, gone. Pain shudders through me.
Astley scoops me up into his arms. “We need to get you home.”
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“Are you hurting?” he asks, eyes staring into mine.
“Naw.”
“You lie,” he says, but he doesn’t press it, which is really kind of him, I think. I let my side settle against his chest.
The sky is dark and cold. The snow keeps falling and the only thing that has any color in it right now is Astley’s green sweater that’s peeking out from beneath his navy blue peacoat. Still, I breathe in. Still, I push the pain outside of me and solid up.
“I’ll be okay,” I protest. “We don’t have to fly. You don’t have to carry me. I promise I’ll be okay.”
“Of course you will, but right now I need to get you home and bandaged and let you have some rest.” He eyes me. “You will tell me what happened as soon as you feel well enough. Deal?”
“Deal.” I sigh as he lifts us into the cold air, brushing past the edges of pine tree branches and finally into clear unobstructed space just above the numerous treetops. “I feel well enough to talk now.”
“Good,” he says. “Tell me as we fly.”
It doesn’t take long for him to get us back to Betty’s house. Unfortunately, Astley is not the best at landings and he tumbles in the snow. He twists his back to take most of the impact and his arms clench around me tightly, trying to brace me from any more bumps and pain.
“Sorry,” he murmurs into my hair and then we stand up. I groan a little bit, but manage to stay upright. He insists on putting an arm around my waist and helping me inside my grandmother’s house. The lights are on and the heat is going full blast, which feels so nice when we walk inside.
He sits me on the couch and I text some woozy messages to Devyn, Issie, and Cassidy about what just happened. I’d text Nick too, but since he is currently in wolf form and he saw me all beaten up and just ran off anyway, I figure I don’t need to.
“I’m glad you were well enough to fly,” I call out to Astley, since he’s in the kitchen.
“Thanks to you and Cassidy.”
“It was nothing,” I lie, trying not to remember how it felt for every single cell to be drained of energy and life. I am going to repress that torture. That’s just how I have to deal with it. It was worth it to get Astley strong and whole, I think as he strides back into the living room with a dishtowel wrapped around an ice pack.
He gently places it on the back of my head. “Your stomach and ribs?”
“They’ll be okay,” I say, but my teeth are gritted so it sounds more like “Theeebeeekayyy.”
My phone starts beeping with new texts. Devyn and Cassidy are coming over. Issie can’t because she’s still under massive curfew.
Astley and I settle down on the couch, not touching or anything, but just waiting for everyone else to get here. The ice pack keeps slipping sideways and he insists on holding it on my head for me, which is so nice. He is always so nice. I shoot him a sideways glance. He looks calm and mellow. Not like me, I bet. I wish he didn’t have to see me like this, even though I know he’s seen me looking worse.
Someone scratches at the door.
“Betty,” I say. “Be careful.”
“I shall be fine,” he says as he gets off the couch and heads to the door. He opens it like there’s no danger at all from a weretiger. Her huge white body enters and she blinks at him, gives a slight hiss, then storms to the couch. She pokes her nose right at the top of my head and sniffs at my injury there, and then at the bruises on my face. After a long, pondering second, she rubs her giant head against my shoulder and cheek, marking me, just like regular cats do. Then she pounds off into her bedroom.
Two minutes later she’s back, changed and human.
“I lost it,” she groans. Her long fingers lift up the washcloth and inspect my bump. She stares into my eyes. “Pupils are okay. No concussion, I don’t think. Or you’re already healing. Anyway, it was like the flipping thing just vanished in midair. I’ve been tracking it for days. She’s been around, almost like she was stalking you. I can’t believe she got to you.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask.
She sighs. Her bones crack as she stands up straight. “I was too busy being feral. And then this afternoon—Well, we didn’t have a lot of time. I’m making some tea. You both are having some too. We all need something to calm us the hell down.”
Devyn and Cassidy get to the house right after the teapot starts boiling. Devyn is all quick, intellectual energy. Snowflakes cling to his thick black hair as he squints his dark eyes at me, probably trying to get in as many details as he can. That’s how he is. Cassidy strides in right behind him, long braids swinging from her knitted wool hat. She scratches at her neck and rushes inside and out of the cold. Nick trots in behind them and heads directly up the stairs in wolf form, dripping melting snow on the carpet as he goes. He doesn’t say anything to anyone and anger rolls off of him.
“Nick is probably just changing,” Cassidy says. She’s attempting to make peace, but then she sees me and must lose that train of thought, because she pretty much flies over to the couch and reaches into her cool Tibetan-motif bag and starts taking out herbs and candles.
“It would be nice,” she says sweetly, “if I didn’t always have to heal you two.”
Betty sets down some tea on the coffee table next to Cassidy’s bag. “It’s like we’re their own private medics.”
“I owe you a supply of candles,” I say as Cassidy lights two big yellow pillars.
“I’ll put it on your credit line,” she jokes. “You currently owe me about $18,000.45 in candles. Matches? Those come free with the healings.”
I start to smile at her but all the happy leaves the air as Nick comes back down the stairs, dressed in jeans and a maroon Henley. His dark hair is scruffy from the turning and there are fatigue lines by his eyes.
Devyn says, “Hey!”
Nick nods in acknowledgment and slumps into a chair, glaring at Astley. Astley smiles at him, which only deepens the glare.
Devyn clears his throat and opens up his laptop. “I promised Issie that we’d Skype her in.”