Page 104 of Break Out the Girl

Within a blink, he’s there. “What? What?”

“Get behind her on the bed,” Mom orders. “Keep her sitting upright.”

He scrambles into position, as my dear mother strokes Rory’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, Tally, her heart is struggling badly.” Looking up, I can see she's seriously worried. “What can you tell me about her health history?”

Shit.

“Mom, I don’t know. She’s never complained about anything, but she shifted for the first time not long ago. She became something completely inhuman. I can’t even…” I take a breath. “She transformed into the wind itself. A silver storm. She fought a fucking hag-predator, then gave her last breath to push air into her dying friend’s lungs.”

Mom listens, her face growing grimmer with every passing second. “In the hallway closet, I’ve an oxygen tank, get that. And we need the electric heater, set as high as possible.”

“Let me,” London says quietly, and before my mom’s astonished gaze, he half-shifts into his faun, instantly radiating a fierce heat from his body as I leave to rush and get the O2. When I return, Mom is rummaging through her med-bag, pulling out an IV kit. “This should help.”

She swipes antiseptic over Rory’s arm, then deftly inserts a needle. “Diuretic to flush out the fluid from her lungs.”

I unwind the long tubes attached to the oxygen tank and place the mask over Rory’s mouth and nose. I’ve done this before.

“Good, highest air-flow setting.” She bites her lip, then lays her hands over Aurora’s chest. “I have to chant. In the box is a salve in a purple glass jar. Put that on her burns.”

Mom starts her casting instantly, her focus fully pulled into what she’s doing. In the meantime I empty her box. Blue, green, red glass bottles and jars.

Where the fuck is the purple one?

Finally.

As my fingers slather on the potent ointment, the blisters on Aurora’s neck stop smoking almost instantly, the black fading into a slightly less disturbing deep red. Someone shifts behind me and I swing around to see François in the doorway, looking like death himself.

“Is she? Can she?” He doesn’t finish his questions, which is good because I have no answers for the man. He steps closer tentatively. “Can I help?”

I have no idea. “Just touch her,” I tell him. “If you’ve got anything in that Basilisk of yours which can help—pull it the fuck out and channel it into her.”

He shakes his head, but drops to his knees, placing a hand on her leg.

Wump....... ppp.

Mom falters, blinks. “What just happened?”

She looks around and sees François. I squat back on my haunches. She turns her head and stares at me. “She’s yours, Tally? And his?”

I nod. “The three of us.”

“Then you all need to touch her while I work. She needs you all.”

London is humming quietly, rocking Aurora in his arms.

The bedroom door creaks open further, and Sky stumbles into the room. She’s wrapped in a patchwork blanket, her small frame shivering violently. “It’s all my fault,” she moans, eyes streaming with tears. “She saved me, and broke herself.”

Behind her, Basil stands, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His fists are clenched, gaze locked hard on the scene as I pick up Rory’s hand, stroking it gently.

Mom makes a choking noise. “Gods above. You’re bonded. All three of you.”

“Yes,” François nods. “Utterly bound to her.”

“I can sense that. Don’t let go, but Gods, I don’t know if it’s enough, she’s barely holding on.”

“Mom,” I beg. “Please, Mom. You have to save her. Please.”

Her hands tremble and her breath hitches. “What in the world?” she murmurs, swaying on her feet. What the fuck? Mom looks like she’s passing out.