“Shane,” Rhys says, looking over at my car, then at me. “How can you own a parts store and drive an absolute heap like that?”
I shrug. “You’re the whiz at taking them apart and putting them together. The parts mean nothing to me—they’re just numbers on a page.”
“And don’t argue about that,” Owen says to Rhys. “Your chop shop was in serious trouble before Shane took over the retail aspect of it.”
“I just like fixing them,” Rhys says defensively. “I don’t give a good goddamn if a custom muffler is supposed to cost three hundred—I need the right part for the job.”
Owen laughs. When I don’t join in, both of them finally look at me properly.
“Oh,” Rhys says. “You told her, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“It didn’t go well?” Owen asks.
I shake my head.
“You don’t have to be here,” Rhys says, giving my shoulder a gentle shake. “We can handle your shop as well as ours.”
“Yeah, I know,” I reply. “I just need to distract myself for a bit before I go to the infirmary.”
My friends look away, and I know both of them are suffering a heavy dose of guilt that my pack is swiftly going down the drain while theirs are fully healed.
They aren’t, though. And if it doesn’t work out with Hyacinth, everything could get flipped upside down. All of us are still in danger.
“So… how is it? With Hyacinth?” Owen asks carefully.
“I asked the girls to go over to the house,” I reply. “They’re with her now. I’m just hoping we can make peace at this point.”
“I understand,” Rhys says. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head. “No. Nothing I can think of. I’ll let you know, though.”
We go our separate ways, and once I get in the office, I’m able to lose myself in numbers and stock-taking for a few hours. When the day begins to draw to a close, a cold, tight feeling seeps through me, and I start to wonder how many people died today.
It was cowardly coming here. But I just couldn’t stand another day in that hospital, feeling helpless. My presence there does nothing, anyway. Whatever hope I bring is quickly washed away by even more despair.
I say goodbye to my workers and walk out to my car, my focus on getting to the infirmary and what I might find when I get there.
I won’t be able to avoid this again. I will be stuck here, or with Hyacinth, until we break this thing.
That thought shocks me, an icy chill cascading through my blood and making my skin prickle.
What if we don’t break it? What happens then?
Even though I knew theoretically what would happen, I never thought about it practically. My mind is suddenly full of people dying, one after the other, dropping so fast that we don’t have time to bury them. My own strength would wane, and I’d be powerless as the sickness wiped out all three packs and eventually reached the elders.
And what then? Would the girls be alright, or would they die, too?
As I pull up at the infirmary, the thought strikes me with a ring of truth. The witches would live. I know next to nothingabout magic and curses, but it just feels right that Lynette’s curse would wipe out every wolf and leave her witches alive.
And at their full strength—awakened by us! This thing is a twisted fucking clusterfuck, that’s for sure.
When I enter the infirmary, I see hope blooming on everyone’s faces, and it makes me feel worse than I have all day.
I have nothing to give them. All my people look to me like I’ve got the answers and I’m going to save them—and I have nothing.
At first, I try to avoid the beds of the sick and move supplies with some of the others. Eventually, though, we’re done with the heavy lifting and the only jobs left to do involve changing sheets, administering drugs, and talking to the patients.
