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“We were supposed to still have time.” I hug the grimoire to me. Things have changed too fast. Glancing at Nolan, I feel so helpless.
A knock at the door has Tisia squeezing my hand. “It’ll work out,” she says. “Somehow.”
Dr. Bomani walks in as Tisia goes. “I heard Galena treated your marshal,” the doc says.
“Could you look at him?” I ask. “I know you’re not a doctor of the physical, but—”
“I’m happy to.” She moves to Nolan’s side and does what looks to my inexperience eyes to be a fairly thorough exam. “He will wake soon.”
“You can tell?” Please let her be right.
“He’s healthy and strong.” She smiles, and I notice how exhausted she looks. I’ve never seen Dr. Bomani look anything less than pressed and polished. “How are you holding up?” she asks.
“I had more memories of the day my family was murdered. Or at least I think I did. They destroyed my garden which doesn’t seem important—”
“It’s all important,” she counters. “Considering I heard your garden here was destroyed when the marshal was shot.”
“With a silver arrowhead like the one he found at my family’s home and the one that killed Kiva.” I don’t mention that my Fury sister has wings edged in the same. “My killer’s here, and the Syndicate’s shutting down the city. Can you say anything to the people who rule us? You’re respected here in Syn City.”
“But it’s not my city, nor do I worship the deities that you serve. The shadow nature of the Syndicate means the ruling body can’t be corrupted, but it also means that it can’t be swayed by an outsider.”
“You’re not an outsider. Not when you’ve been here for years treating every bit of our crazy.”
She shakes her head. “You know we don’t use that word.”
“My Fury sisters and I were murdered. There’s not a more messed up kind of trauma that a person can face.”
“Your entire family was killed. I’m more worried about your grieving them.” She stares at me with those eyes that see too much. “Did you remember anything else? Something that could help us work through the guilt you’ve burdened yourself with although it’s not your load to carry?”
“The wings.” I move past her to the grimoire and shadow books that Tisia dropped off. “Remember when I said my killer had wings?”
“At our first attempt at regression, yes.”
I flip open my little sister’s book of scribbles and sketches, and my heart pangs at the loss all over again. “My baby sister drew a shadowy figure that had the same wings.” I point to them. “Like bare tree branches or bones.”
“No. They’re antlers and horns.” The doctor’s voice has a steely certainty. “I heard that a panic shout caused the riot at the Hack and Ale, and I suspected it then, but this proves it.”
“Proves what?” What the hell does she mean by antlers and horns? Like a deer’s antlers? And what has wings in the shape of horns? Nothing in Syn City, or we would’ve seen it by now. The Furies have weird wings, but none like these.
“The god Pan. He’s here.”
“The satyr goat-guy? Nolan said his expert mentioned him, but Pan’s dead.”
Dr. Bomani rubs her temples. “The rumors came that he died two thousand years ago, but I knew that if I just waited him out—”
“For two thousand years?” Fear skates along my spine. What is Dr. Bomani? And how long has she been alive?
She waves away my question as though it doesn’t matter. “If he’s dead, then he has followers acting as if he’s alive.”
“Who? None of the Houses follow him.”
“Or none that we know.” She looks away from the sketches. “Maybe it’s good that the Syndicate has decided to close the city, if Pan or his followers have returned. He was the god of wild things, a monster who pre-dated the Olympic gods and goddesses although the stories tried to make him a lesser deity. He’s against order and civilization.”
“That’s why he has a panic shout thing?”
“He thrives on causing fear as much as he craves lecherous acts with the unwilling. The panic he inspires can easily kill. It’s primal chaos.” She stands. “I need to go for now, but we can talk about your memories at our next session. Thank you for sharing your sister’s drawings.”
She leaves before I can say anything else. The cabin is quiet again, and I sit beside Nolan. His auburn hair and freckles stand out against the stark white of the pillows. The scents of soap, wolf, and paper from my family’s books wash over me the same as the steady sounds of his breathing. Watching his chest rise and fall comforts me after the rattle there’d been with the arrow lodged in him. Now, if he would only open his eyes. Dr. Bomani said some nutty things, but I have to hold onto her belief that he’ll wake soon. Or else I don’t know what I’ll do.
