I stare at my body in dismay. I’m wearing a ratty, oversized old T-shirt that I use for going to sleep. It has a picture on it: the entire cast of theTwilightsaga, terrible wigs and all. I’d bought it back in my Twihard days and got the last XL because it had sold in all the other sizes. I hope Harrisford hasn’t seen the state of my arms, or…even worse, my legs.
“Briggs,” I say, my voice shaking with suppressed horror. “Did you…Did youundress me?”
Harrisford’s back to petting Percy. “You were injured.” He gives a maddeningly nonchalant shrug. “Anyway, you have nothing to worry about. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” But I don’t fail to notice the pink tinge in his cheeks, or the fact that he seems to be refusing eye contact.
“And who”—I swallow, gathering my courage—“who healed me?”
This time, he does look up, his blue and brown eyes meeting mine. “Why, I did. Of course.”
A bubble of madness is expanding in my brain, threatening to explode. I fancy that given long enough, cerebrospinal fluid is going to start leaking right out of my nostrils.
“Youhealed me?” I hiss. “You can’t do that! What about taking me to the bloody hospital—”
“And risking them finding out we broke into Magecorp?” hesneers, as though it’s the most ludicrous thing anyone has ever suggested. “No, thank you.”
I cross my arms tightly across my middle. Vets have a saying: Real doctors treat more than one species. But that isn’t supposed to includehumans. “It’s wrong,” I say, and I’m aware of how holier-than-thou I sound. But I don’t care. “You’ve probably broken dozens of laws—”
“And you’ve probably broken hundreds!” His voice is rising too, and the pink in his face is turning into a deep, angry shade of red. “So where does that leave us, Chan? Are you going to dob me in? Report me? What happened to a simple ‘thanks’?”
“Thanks for what? For drawing me into this stupid circus?”
He lets out a frustrated roar. “For saving your bloody life!”
We stare at each other, chests heaving, neither of us willing to back down. For god’s sake—the moment Harrisford starts to finally seem human, and then he comes out with this? What a fucking bastard.
He did save you, you know.Percy’s imperious voice rings loud and clear down our bond.He rescued you from that ruined rooftop, brought you here, and used his own magic to heal you…
Oh, shut it, Percy.Even in my mind, my voice sounds choked with tears.You’re just on his side because he’s currently scratching your bum.
Percy half closes his eyes.He’s a very good bum scratcher, to be fair. Perhaps you ought to try it.
I grimace.I amnotletting him scratch my bum!
But aloud, I finally concede. “Thank you,” I mutter, crossing my arms even tighter.
“You’re welcome,” Harrisford says, his tone equally acerbic.
By the time Harrisford convinces me to lie down again, I’m feeling weak and shivery. Our quarrel has depleted the last of my energy, and I roll onto my side, my head pillowed against my hands.
“You should go to sleep now,” Harrisford says. He’s still annoyed with me; he doesn’t look at me, instead just stares at his book.
“I’m not tired.” I try, unsuccessfully, to stifle my yawn. “Keep reading. I want to know if there’s anything else that’ll help us.”
Harrisford raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure? It’s pretty dry.”
I don’t want to tell him that I need this—that after two days away from study, my brain is craving stimulation. Instead, I just say, “Perhaps your boring voice will send me off to sleep.”
He shakes his head. “Christ, Chan, you really are a callous witch.” But there’s a faint smile playing about his lips. He draws my desk chair closer, its rolling wheels squeaking, then leans back, propping his sock-clad feet on my bed.
I close my eyes as he starts reading, the deep timbre of his words lulling me into calm. And soon enough, I fall asleep…to the sound of my enemy’s voice.
17
Harrisford
I continue reading until long after Gwendolynne has drifted off, and by the time I finish my throat is raspy, my body is stiff, and my bladder is full to bursting. Percy gives a small whine of protest as I scoop him up off my lap and plop him by Gwendolynne’s side. Gently, I draw the covers over the two of them, stopping just short of stroking her hair. She looks so peaceful when she’s not wearing her customary scowl.
It’s Sunday, and I have a whole day off from classes. According to my research, visiting hours at the London General Magical Hospital start in exactly twenty-five minutes. That’s enough time to get there on my motorbike if I turn on the magical boost.
