Page 22 of Hybrid Heroics

“There are many things that have changed,” York’s uncle supplied. “All of a sudden, nothing is flourishing.”

“I told you,” Sterling grumbled. “It’s been like this for days. Nearly a week.”

Latharian mumbled something under his breath, and the conversation ended as they walked away. York peeked his head in the door after Palmer and Briggs left.

Novak nodded to the druid, squeezing Sloane’s hand before following him out.

“I don’t like this,” Vaughn murmured to me, then sighed. “Let’s see what’s going on. We need to make a plan of some sort before we’re caught unprepared.”

I didn’t want to leave her, but as she would say, I needed a minute. The conversation was in full swing as I pulled the bedroom door firmly shut behind me.

“What’s really going on?” Sterling countered York, but I’d missed what the druid had said. “You’ve given me some information, but you’re hiding a lot. Are you guys in trouble or something?”

“How long do we have to be here?” Palmer mused, more to himself than anyone else.

“Does she just wake up?” Briggs asked Palmer, playing off the mage’s thoughts.

Novak glanced at Sterling before he continued pacing, needing to burn his excess energy. “When do we know what we know?”

I had tons of questions, but the vampire was on a different level. “We already know what we know. Do you mean when do we know what we don’t know? Because none of us have the answer to that, for obvious reasons.”

“Are you sure she’ll wake up?” Sterling asked, her question directed at York.

“Yes,” he replied, clipped.

Briggs cut his eyes at York. “No. We don’t even know if she’s asleep.”

“She’s in a stasis,” Vaughn tried to explain. “It’s like a coma, but—”

“Right,” Novak sarcastically agreed. “But what about her mind?”

“What about it?” the fae challenged.

“Will she be okay when she comes back?” he asked, and I could hear it in his voice…

This was the one question he absolutely needed an answer to. We were all concerned, though he was on the edge. No one needed an unstable vampire.

I snorted. “Do you really think this is going to stop her?”

“No,” Briggs drawled, his brows furrowed. “But that’s not the same—”

“She’ll still be Sloane,” I told them. “Determined, headstrong, and pissed off. Don’t doubt her now.”

“We’re not trying to. It’s just…” The wolf huffed as he sat down. “We’ve all got questions, and she’s the only one who can answer them.”

“She’s really stretching the idea of being eternal right now,” Novak complained. “What if she’s wrong?”

No one said anything as we digested those four simple words.

What if she’s wrong?

Sure. One could be eternal. I thought, possibly, that all of us were since we sealed the bonds. I wasn’t as willing to test my luck as Sloane was, though.

But did eternal mean mentally as well as physically?

We all knew she’d found nothing that could kill her. To date. Her heart may cease to beat, or her lungs refuse to fill with oxygen; however, she didn’t actually need those things to live.

That led me down the dark path of wondering what would happen if her consciousness never came back. Would this be a real-life story of how we kept our mate’s body pleasantly preserved on her bed for centuries? Because that was creepy, even in cartoons. And I would have some choice words for my Kitten if she left us in that predicament.