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"You're warm," I said, lifting a hand to his forehead.
"Better than being cold. Got enough dead people wandering around this city."
"I'm serious. You're..." I tried with my other hand. "No, I guess it's not too bad. I'll get Jeremy to check you before bed. He should have another look at your arm too."
"Sounding more like a mother every day," Nick said. "Scary."
Medical
I DREAMED THAT THE PORTAL CAUSED A CITYWIDE BLACKOUT, and I was down in the PATH system, running through the hot, stuffy corridors, searching for the bathroom while the bowler-hatted zombie chased me, and I couldn't fight him when I had to pee so badly I could hardly see straight.
Then I awoke, sweating and clawing at the heavy covers. Sunlight seeped through the crack between the drawn drapes. Nick was sleeping against my back, his hand on my rear. I realized I did have to use the bathroom. Badly. A quick look around reassured me that the zombie part of the dream, at least, had been imaginary.
I wriggled out of the tangle of limbs. As I climbed over Clay, I felt the waves of heat coming off him. He gave a low moan, almost too low to hear. Then his arm flew out, narrowly missing my head.
I scrambled up and turned on the bedside lamp. Clay's color was high, the hair around his face plastered down with sweat.
Nick lifted the pillow from his head. "Wha--?"
"I'm getting Jeremy."
I pulled on my pants, then grabbed the nearest shirt--Clay's--and yanked it on as Nick rose from the bed, still blinking back sleep.
"Elena."
Clay lifted his head from the pillow.
"I'm okay," he said. "Just the fever coming back."
He started to sit up, then stopped and wobbled, face going ashen with the sudden movement.
"I'm getting--" I began.
"No, let Nick."
Nick nodded and brushed past me, scooping up his pants. I hesitated, then nodded and grabbed the bucket of melted ice water as Nick went to get Jeremy.
I was mopping icy water onto Clay's forehead when Jeremy got there, his feet bare and his shirt undone. Clay started to sit up, but I pushed him back down, and he settled for rolling his eyes at Jeremy.
"She's overreacting," he said. "I have a fever. Just let me pop some Tylenol--"
Jeremy popped something else in his mouth--a thermometer. Clay grunted and sank back onto his pillow with a martyred "I'm surrounded" look.
"How high is it?" I asked when Jeremy checked.
"High."
Clay started to reach for the Tylenol, but Jeremy shook his head. He dumped the capsules into his own hand, and held them to Clay's lips. Clay rolled his fever-bright eyes at me, then opened up and let Jeremy tend to him.
Nick returned with a fresh bucket of ice, and I wrapped some in my wet towel.
"Enough," Clay growled. "Give the pills a chance to kick in."
Jeremy was checking Clay's arm.
"How bad--?" I began.
"Do you have the number for that doctor?" Jeremy asked quietly. "The sorcerer you met the other day?"
