Page 48 of Dark Destiny: The Turning Of The Loom

There was a half-second pause on the line. "What are her symptoms?"

"She is unresponsive, and her fever is high. I'd guess a hundred and three or higher by the feel. Pulse is strong, slow, and steady. Breathing is normal."

"Textbook transition," Julian said. "I'll send a Guardian with a cart to bring her to the clinic. I will meet you there."

"We don't need a cart. I'll carry her. We're five minutes from the clinic on foot."

"You might be, but I'm not. It will take me fifteen minutes to get there, so don't rush. There is no reason to panic. Pack a bag for her. A change of clothing, toiletries, slippers. These kinds of things."

"It will be done. I'll see you in the clinic in fifteen minutes."

He hung up and turned to Leehy, who was still sitting on the bed, her daughter's hand clasped in hers.

"Pack a bag for Sullha," he told her, repeating the list Julian had given him. "Bring it to the clinic when you are done. You know where it is, right?"

"Of course I do." Leehy let go of Sullha's hand, wiped her face with both palms, and rose to her feet.

As she went into the closet, Yaaf pulled the blanket off Sullha.

She was wearing the T-shirt she'd slept in, one of his that she'd insisted he no longer needed because it had a little hole in it. It was big enough on her to cover all the essentials. He slipped one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, and lifted her. She weighed next to nothing, just a little more than her five-year-old son, and as he hugged her to his chest, her head rolled and fell against his shoulder.

It was then that he realized he'd run out with only his pajama pants on and wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes. But that wasn't what froze him in place.

Suddenly, it hit him that this was it. She was turning immortal, and when it was done, she would never age or sicken.

He would have eternity with her.

Yaaf took a breath, and then another.

"I'll bring you a change of clothes and shoes to the clinic," Bardov said, taping a bandage over the last of Tomek's cuts. "Go."

Yaaf turned for the door, then stopped and looked back at the boy.

Tomek sat on the edge of the bed, both feet bandaged. His eyes were full of tears, his mouth was pressed shut, and he said nothing.

He didn't have to. Yaaf knew what he wanted.

"Bardov. Get Tomek dressed and bring him to the clinic with you. Julian should look at those feet."

"Understood."

"I don't want to get dressed," Tomek said. "I want to go now."

"You will be two minutes behind me," Yaaf said. "Bardov will bring you. Show him where your room is."

Bardov stood, looked at the boy's bandaged feet, then bent and picked him up under the arms, holding him away from his body for a moment before bringing him in against his chest, the way Yaaf had done.

"Which way, soldier?"

Tomek pointed, and Bardov followed the pointing finger.

Yaaf headed out of the room with Sullha's head against his neck, her heat soaking into him, and her hair in his mouth. Behind him, he heard Leehy pulling drawers open and Bardov asking Tomek which shirt he wanted to wear.

He was almost to the front door when he heard the patter of feet again.

Small, fast, uneven this time because of the bandages. Tomek ran toward him with the shirt half over his head, one arm through it, his bandaged feet slapping on the floor. As he reached Yaaf, he grabbed a fistful of pajama pants and hung on.

"Is Mama going to be all right?"