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A howl of protest shook the house. My father’s. I knew at once he wasn’t the one suffering. Only my mother’s pain would make him react that way. I rose.
“Tempest, sit,” Pat said. “Dr. Olivet knows what she’s doing. If she needs us, she’ll send for us. She’s afraid your parents will try to minimize their symptoms if you’re standing over her shoulder.”
“Minimize? How the hell would they pull that off? My mother has been barely conscious since I got here. My father can’t walk. What exactly do you think they’re covering up?”
Pat gave me a stern look. “Why don’t you take a walk?”
She went to the fridge and pulled out an old-fashioned metal lunch pail. She set it in front of me. “He needs to eat, too. You insist on keeping him in Dragonsteel. He’s gonna get weak fast. An empty stomach won’t do him any good on top of that.”
X.
Pat slid the lunch pail to me. I could smell her fried chicken. My own stomach growled.
“He can starve for all I care,” I said.
“Tempest, you do care. You’re not going to do anyone any good brooding in my kitchen or otherwise making a nuisance of yourself.”
“You have no idea what he’s put me through,” I said.
“He’s here,” she said. “He’s offering to help. The way I see it, he can go to hell later. For now, we need him.”
“We don’t know that, Dr. Olivet…”
“Isn’t a miracle worker,” Pat said. “Even if she has some magic cure in that bag of hers, it’s gonna take time. We’ve got over forty shifters taken sick here. We don’t know if you’re going to come down with it yet. While you’re able-bodied and Anson is, you’re damn well going to serve the men and women of Wild Lake. So go feed him. Make your peace for now. Let’s get our people on the mend any way we can. You can tear each other’s hearts out later.”
She picked up the pail and thrust it right into my chest.
“Pat….”
“I don’t care!” she said. “That man might be the devil himself. But he swore an oath to you. So we’ll make him honor it in a way that serves us.”
I rose. She was right. I hated it. But she was right.
“You call for me,” I said. “The second Dr. Olivet comes back down.”
“Of course, honey,” she said.
I took the lunch pail. Even leaving my parents to go only as far as the barn felt too far. But I knew deep down Pat was right. Even as weak as they were, my father would try to cover or downplay his condition in front of me. For the moment at least, the best way I could help them was by leaving them alone.
I didn’t have to go as far as the barn, though. As I opened the front door, Anson was already waiting for me. He cut an imposing figure in the yard. Tattered jeans. Shirtless. Sweat glistening on his hard-cut muscles. His tanned skin was covered with a dusting of hay. He’d been working. Mucking out stalls. Doing all the things the men of Wild Lake did to help Pat out. Only now there was no one else.
The gold collar gleamed around his neck. Anson wiped his brow as he made his way up the porch steps. I held the lunch pail out to him.
“From Pat,” I said. “She wants you to keep your strength up.”
Anson took the steps two at a time. His wolf eyes blazed as he opened the pail and saw Pat’s fried chicken. He licked his lips and sat right down on the porch steps, digging into a succulent drumstick.
“God,” he moaned. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Then he gave me a wicked look. “Maybe second best.”
“Stop it,” I said. “I’ll rip your damn face off.”
Anson went back to his chicken. I was about to lay into him again, when a cry of pain from inside the house cut through me.
“That’s my mother!” I said, turning. Anson put the lunch pail down and fell in step behind me.
“No!” Pat blocked the door. “She left explicit instructions. The two of you need to stay outside. No matter what you hear.”
“She’s awake!” I said. “I have to be with her.”
