Page 52 of Fatality on the Field

“We’re not letting them die,” I say. “If I’m the last line, I can’t tell Iggy he’s not allowed to take a look. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You’ll need to wear one of the suits like the dragon, Briarton. And as he was instructed, if anything goes even a little wrong, leave immediately. We have enough problematic rich people to deal with once this gets out—your father is not one I wish to wrestle into a magical jail cell.”

You know, I’m liking this woman more every minute, I swear to all the gods and goddesses.

Kaspar puts his hand on my shoulder, and I look at him expectantly. “If it comes to it, you can petrify them, Morgana. It will buy time, and perhaps the healers here will be able to save their minds afterward. We will not make these people watch young supes die today. Liam will stand behind you, as will I, if the Council or Society tries to punish you for it.”

I nod and then look at Iggy. “Are you ready for a giant spacesuit, then?”

He squares his shoulders. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Zuszanna waves a healer over and explains what we’re doing. Within a few moments, Iggy is draped with an anti-magic cloth gown, a hood, gloves lined with some prickly iron netting that smells like blood and gunmetal, and everything else he needs to enter the suite. The hospital staff check every seal carefully before they give him a thumbs up.

Biting my lip, I don’t even flinch when the grumpy dragon puts an arm around me while we watch through the thick glass. I need a little support, and he’s what I’ve got at the moment.

Iggy goes to the bedside, scanning the lines on their skin in detail. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I know he’s very carefully inspecting every inch of the first kid that he can as he moves. As he works, I wing a thought to the deities I’m not angry with, hoping that he learns something new to help us fight this shit.

If not, we’re looking at a panic, furious leaders, and more victims; of that I’m sure.

The wait for Iggy to do his job is much longer than I anticipated. I’m now hunched on the bench I’d avoided with the storm dragon, while we try not to vibrate out of our skins. The elevator dings and announces its load with a deep, mechanical clang that makes me jump. My hearing, dialed up by panic, catches the voices of two men with sultry Southern accents down the hall.

“…Whistler’s Hollow?” says the first.

“…Jackson Thorne said direct to the quarantine, no stops,” the second answers in a tone that tells me he’s the one in charge.

As they approach, neither looks like what you’d expect from an expert disaster response team. Both are stupidly gorgeous, and obviously supes, but that’s the only thing that makes sense to me. The one in charge wears nerdy glasses with a set of teal scrubs peeking out from under his jacket. He’s blond, with floppy hair and sharp eyes that make me think he might be avian. His companion is shorter, prettier, and has an air of delicacy that screams Fae. I’m not sure what kind, but I doubt it’s Liam’s court.

He’d know about some healer an hour away, right?

The bird-ish one meets my gaze as he approaches. He seems to notice everything at once—Iggy in the room in the hazmat gear, Zuszanna hunched over a legal pad and scrawling notes, Channing at the end of the hall watching warily, Kaspar giving them a stink eye and of course me, not shirking away. The guy stops two feet in front of me, peering over his glasses curiously. “Dean LeCiel?”

“Yes,” I say as I stand up, holding my hand out to shake. “And you are?”

He flashes a smile that must have been practiced on thousands of women. “Dr. Presley Hamilton, caladrius for Whistler’s Hollow. Prez, to my friends, if you please. My friend and colleague is⁠—”

“Dr. Wolfgang Fletcher, but it’s Wolfie or nothing,” says the second, his accent heavier than Prez’s. He actually takes my hand to shake it, and I note that despite his softness, he has the hands of a working man.

Unusual for a doctor, I’d think.

“Jackson sent me to function as a specialist.” Prez’s voice is pleasant, but it’s not a question. “Caladrii are trained for a very long time before they are assigned enclaves or towns, and my apprenticeship was in Asia. I learned under a revered dragon healer, so my skills are often different from those of hospital healers and supes.”

Wolfie smiles at me, shrugging. “I’m not as fancy as Prez, but I graduated top of my class at State U in veterinary medicine by my early twenties, so I might be able to assist, if nothing else.”

My eyes skate between them, and suddenly I get it. They’re mates and work in the same town. Of course they came together, especially with Wolfie’s connection to the university. I still believe he’s Fae, which is another helpful factor, but it’s rude to ask, so I won’t.

Prez pivots and looks through the glass, assessing the students with the detachment of a seasoned triage medic. “May we see the chart and the containment log? I need to get up to speed ASAP if we want these kids to make it, I think. Their aura is basically screaming for help if you can hear it.”

I cringe and Wolfie murmurs, “You have to excuse his lack of… bedside manner about this. We’ve had a lot of problems at home with people and companions being struck by magical pranks and shit, so the past few days have been difficult. The injustice meter was already cranked high, and now some grad students could die because an asshole sent poison through the fucking mail. You know?”

“Being a gorgon, justice is a big deal to me, so yes, I do know,” I reply honestly. “I can be blunt as well, so no harm done. If your mate helps us cure the students, I don’t give a chicken-fried fuck how his bedside manner is.”

Kaspar snorts, and I shrug. The vet smiles at me, his eyes dancing as he says, “Oh, my sugarplum would adore you, Miss Morgana. One day, when you’re not beset by poison and drama, you should mosey on down to the Hollow to visit. I think you two would get along like peanut butter and pie.”

“Perhaps if the doctor can fix this, I will.”

That is, as long as I’m not in prison or dead because murder has made its home on the campus of State University and doesn’t seem eager to leave.

thirty-two