Page 30 of Hybrid Heroics

“I didn’t know,” she sobbed. “I don’t know where it came from or how this happened. I would never—” She gasped again, sort of hiccuping her way through a deep breath as she continued. “I would never, York.”

“I know,” he murmured, though he stayed where he was standing. “Alric has done some awful things, Aunt Talia. This isn’t even close to the worst of them.”

Talia glanced at each of us before whispering, “Is she okay? I didn’t—I didn’t—”

“She’s fine now,” Stone grumbled. “I would apologize for hurting you, but—”

“No,” she interrupted. “No. I’m sorry I put you in that position. She’s your mate. You don’t know me.”

“We need to check Latharian. Now,” Vaughn quietly stated.

The dryad jumped from his chair, his eyes milky as he darted for the archway out of the dining room.

I wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but I was guessing it wasn’t the bottom of Briggs’ boot meeting him square in the chest.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say he’s infected too,” Thatcher commented, scratching his head as he stared down at the wheezing man.

“Probably,” I agreed. “I was thinking the same thing. Either that or he suddenly got cataracts…”

Thatcher scoffed. “That’s not how that works.”

“I know.” I nodded. “You ready for round two, Murph?”

“Not unless it comes with whiskey. I’ve got a splitting headache.”

York pursed his lips as he studied the warlock. Then he snapped his fingers and whistled three short times. “Cronus can help you.”

“The hellhound?”

“No,” Palmer drawled, squinting at his brother. “The titan.”

“Cute,” the warlock grouched. “How does a hellhound help me?”

“That’s not a hellhound,” Sterling pointed out as the blue butterfly landed on Murph’s shoulder.

Murphy sighed in relief. “That’s interesting.”

“I’m so confused,” she commented.

York grinned. “Cronus has a special ability—”

“He can shapeshift into a butterfly,” Sterling cut in dryly.

“No. That was Palmer’s doing…” York shook his head, bemused. “He’s sort of like a battery, but the trick is that he doesn’t listen to just anyone.”

“Sort of like a battery?” she parroted. “What does ‘sort of’ mean?”

“I know, I know,” he placated, his hands raised. “It’s difficult to explain without Sloane. The hounds are hers. Cronus is likely only helping because he knows we’re all protecting her.”

Sterling slowly shook her head, processing what her cousin had said. “There’s more than one?”

“Three.” York helped Talia stand to her feet. “The other two are outside, lingering near the doors.”

“So…” she trailed off, collecting her thoughts. “You just carry butterflies with you everywhere you go?”

I snorted. “We had a pedmar with us too. For a minute, anyway.”

“Yes, Ling,” York answered patiently. “Sloane keeps the hounds with her, but they aren’t always butterflies.”