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The morgue was in the basement, three stories belowground, but the healing facilities were on the main floor. As we rounded the corner into the medical wing, the receptionist caught sight of us. She was a youngish woman who looked fully human, but somewhere a few generations back, one of her ancestors had been an Earthside Fae. She punched a button and called for Sharah over the intercom. Sharah came running out of the break room.
“Exam Room One,” Sharah said, dashing ahead of us. We followed her into the sterile room. It was painted a pale green, which was supposed to be soothing but just made me depressed.
Smoky laid Camille on the table while Sharah washed her hands and slipped on a pair of nonlatex gloves. Latex bothered her skin, as it did many of the elves. “What happened?”
“She was attacking a hellhound when some of his blood got on her. Her hand’s been burned through to the bone on the side.” I hovered, worried. “She wouldn’t leave until we finished mopping up the joint, even though I tried to get her to back off.”
Sharah glanced up at me. “That sounds about right,” she said as she unwrapped the bandage. The wound was really festering now, and pus oozed out of the deep hole. “Mother Arachne, look at that.”
“Will she be okay?” Smoky asked from the foot of the table, arms crossed, a pensive look on his face. Morio stood beside him.
“She probably fainted from the pain. I imagine it must be incredibly bad, considering the look of this wound. Did you know that the acid in the hellhound’s blood is used by the dwarves up in the Nebelvuori Mountains to etch designs on their magical swords?” She glanced up at us. “It’s a prized commodity there. You could have made a small fortune if you’d managed to gather the creature’s blood before it vanished.”
“We weren’t exactly thinking along monetary lines,” I said.
Camille began to stir as Sharah cleansed the wound, lowering the injured hand into a basin that contained some sort of foaming solution. Wisps of white smoke curled up as it bubbled around the wound. “I hear you,” she said. “The infection is topical—on the surface. I don’t think it’s had time to work its way into her bloodstream. She’s a lucky woman,” she added, glancing up at me. “Another half hour, and she’d be on her way to dead. And a very painful death it would be.”
Suddenly feeling faint, I leaned back against the wall. It hadn’t occurred to me that the wound could be fatal. Painful, yes. Disfiguring perhaps. Fatal had never entered my mind. Smoky blanched, turning pasty white, and Morio caught his breath with a sharp hiss.
As Sharah inspected the deep hole in Camille’s hand, my sister stirred and moaned. Her eyes fluttered open, and she blinked, looking confused.
“Hush,” Sharah said. “You fainted from the pain, but you’re going to be okay. Now, if you’d just tell your doting husbands and sister to get the hell out of here, I can take care of this a lot better without them hovering over my shoulder.” She flashed us a grin but nodded toward the door. “Get moving. She’s going to be okay, though she’ll have to wear a dressing for a while. She may end up with a nasty scar, but she’ll be all right.”
Before I could get to her, Smoky brushed past the elf and leaned over, planting a long, gentle kiss on Camille’s lips. “I’ll be right outside,” he murmured. Not to be outdone, Morio followed suit.
As they reluctantly left, I brushed Camille’s hair away from her head and kissed her forehead. “Get better. I’m going to go find Chase. I’ll be back in a little while.” I headed for the door, adding, “If she gives you any guff, Sharah, just let me know.”
Sharah laughed. “No problem. Go on now. I think Chase is in his office.”
With a last look at Camille, who looked totally out of it, I swung out the door and headed back to the waiting room. Smoky and Morio were sitting on one of those uncomfortable, too-low sofas you always find in hospitals. They were talking in hushed whispers. I gave them the thumbs-up and headed through the labyrinth of hallways to Chase’s office.
The knowledge that Camille was going to be okay lightened my mood. I felt ready to have a long talk with Chase. We would work through whatever was bothering him. I’d never been in a relationship before, except with other cats when I was in cat form. Cat connections are of an altogether different nature. Considering that I was involved with an FBH, I thought I was handling things pretty well, though I knew Menolly didn’t think we had a chance. Camille kept whatever she felt to herself.
Chase’s door was closed, and I barged in without knocking, like I’d done so many times before. “Hey love, surprise!”
What I saw stopped me cold. I started to sweat, my hand still on the doorknob. A lovely brunette, petite with big boobs and dressed to kill in what was probably some designer getup, was sitting on his desk, her legs spread wide, with Chase standing between them. His left arm encircled her waist, while his right hand stroked her clit. His pants were down around his feet, and he was sliding his cock into her pussy. At the sound of my entrance, he thrust so hard she let out a little shriek.
“What the fuck is going on?” I heard the sound of my voice before I realized I’d said anything.
“Oh God, I’m coming!” The woman dropped her head back and let out a long moan as Chase jerked around, his eyes wide and frightened. The woman pulled him tighter, writhing against him.
Chase quickly disentangled himself, trying to straighten his jacket. His penis poked through. He obviously still had the boner from hell.
“Who is she? Tell me!” As I swung toward her, the woman scrambled off the desk, tugging at her skirt hem. She smoothed it out, but not before I’d had a chance to catch a glimpse of bare butt, a sight I really didn’t need at the moment. She gave me a satisfied smirk.
“This isn’t . . .” Chase started to say, then stopped. He hung his head. “I’m not going to lie to you. This is exactly what it looks like. This is Erika. She’s . . . we were engaged five years ago.”
Chase had told me he’d never had a serious relationship. Apparently he’d forgotten that little fact. So, lie number one.
Furious, unsure what to say, I just stared at the two of them. Erika patted her hair back into place, now looking bored and vaguely annoyed. Chase was staring at me, his dark eyes haunted and luminous.
I wanted to run over and throw my arms around him, to beat the crap out of Erika, to stake my claim. But the truth was, I didn’t have any right to do that. I’d slept with Zachary, the werepuma. But Chase had said I was enough for him. He’d never mentioned wanting somebody else. He’d lied to me. And I hated liars.
After a moment, I found my voice. “How long has this been going on?”
Chase dropped into the chair next to his desk. He looked over at Erika. “Maybe you’d better leave. I need to talk to Delilah.”
She gave me a snotty look, then picked up her handbag and swished out the door. “Call me when you’re ready for dinner,” she said over her shoulder, and I knew she wasn’t talking to me.
