“Sh—shoot,” Mallory muttered. Suddenly, the tremors overtook her.Oh no, oh no, oh no…“Please excuse me,” she said to the male patron. She sprinted in the direction of Helen’s office, latching onto Dante’s sleeve as she passed him.
He seemed to understand what she was doing and followed close on her heels. As soon as she entered the room, she dove behind the desk and felt her body change. She heard the door shut and a lock snick into place.
“Honey? Are you all right?”
All Mallory could say was “Eep!” One glance at her thin, hairy arms confirmed she’d taken on her monkey form. She flopped onto her back and tried her relaxation techniques, even though she was a little late.
Sounds of someone pounding on the door prevented her from relaxing.
Dante tried yelling through the door, “It’s okay. Just give her a moment.”
The muffled comment from the other side of the door was Helen demanding to know what was wrong with her artist.
“Uh… She’s having a seizure.”
“I’ll call an ambulance,” she heard Helen say clearly, even though it was coming from the other side of the closed door. Her senses sharpened…maybe because animals could hear better than most humans. Right now, she didn’t care about the benefits. She wanted her human body back.
“No! No ambulance,” Dante called out. “I’m an EMT. And…and she would be embarrassed. She’ll be fine, I promise.”
She heard a few other voices out there, notably Antonio Fierro calmly stating there were five EMTs in the gallery, including his son who was with her right now. A seizure just had to run its course. The only danger would be if she were to fall or hit something sharp, and his son was with her to prevent that.
He seemed to be calming Helen down. There were several distant murmurs, but she couldn’t pick up many exact conversations. She heard the wordseizurerepeated more than once.
That was sort of brilliant on Dante’s part, she thought. For one, she was probably shaking as she entered the office. For another thing, a seizure wasn’t life-threatening, and she wouldn’t look any different once she recovered. At least she didn’t think so.
Dante came around the desk and found her lying on the floor, her dress twisted about her. Straightening it beneath her little legs, he murmured, “You’re safe. I’m here.” He stroked her forehead, as if she were a frightened pet.
How could this keep happening? Why didn’t the wizard’s hex-breaking spell work? She hadn’t seen ghosts since that day, so maybe some of it worked. Maybe seeing ghosts was the hex part, and this was something else completely.
Now that she had a few moments to breathe and with Dante stroking her forehead, she regrouped. She concentrated on her human form and felt her torso, arms, and legs expand. Dante shuffled back a foot or so, then helped her up.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded. When she tried her voice, she sounded like a scared little girl. “I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and tried again, this time with more conviction. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you.”
“Okay. Shall we go back out there? I’m sure a lot of people want to see that you’re okay.”
“Yes. I should show everyone I’m all right.”
As she walked toward the door, Dante splashed the back of her skirt with his champagne.
She whirled on him. “Why did you do that?”
“Because when someone has a seizure, they lose control of theirwholebody. You don’t want people to think you faked it, do you?”
“I don’t want people to think I peed myself either!”
“Well, I’m sorry. That’s the embarrassing part.”
She hung her head. “Great. Just great.”
