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Anger made my skin itch as the wolf rose, and I tried to remember that Dr. Gonzales was keeping a close watch on him in the infirmary. Still, there was a limit to what she could do. He’d looked pretty rough when I checked on him last night, but I was hoping she could cook up some good drugs to at least keep him stable until my cousin, Claudia, came back from Peru with a cure.
I made my way back through campus to the infirmary. It was never quiet in the mornings. People were always racing to get last-minute food before the melodic warning tone rang, telling us that classes were starting. But today, everyone seemed especially busy.
A group of Cazadores ran at full speed on a lap around the campus, but as they passed, I noticed that they weren’t in sync. Usually, the footfalls matched and they looked like they were running as one—as a unified group—but one of these guys was completely off. His footfalls were exactly opposite the others. Another was just a fraction too slow.
The sight was unsettling to say the least. Even after being bitten, I’d been able to run in sync with my pack mates on my first jog around the gym. For the Cazadores, it should be like breathing.
Motion on the quad drew my attention away. Two Weres had shifted and were circling and growling in the middle of the grass, I wasn’t positiv
e, but going by the low rumbling sounds and flashing teeth, they weren’t play fighting.
It seemed like everywhere I looked, the pack was falling apart. Maybe I was pushing my own suspicions on everyone, but I didn’t think so. Not anymore. Especially not after what Donovan had just said.
Another Cazador’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He had a group of freshmen gathered around him.
“You have to be fast,” he said as he paced back and forth in front of the group. His black hair was slicked back, but I couldn’t see his face. I only knew he was a Cazador by his uniform—black jeans and a plain, black T-shirt. “If you see their fingers flick or their lips moving, they’re cursing you. Act first. Slash your claws across their throat. If you can’t get the right angle, biting off hands works well, too.”
I rubbed my arms as goose bumps ran across my skin. It was probably good information for them to have, especially since we had a few bad witches under sedation in the feral cages—but still—the idea of killing witches willy-nilly was upsetting for obvious reasons. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans and picked up my pace.
As soon as I reached the second floor of the building, the smell hit me.
Rotten eggs.
My stomach rolled, and I moved a little quicker. That scent brought back memories. None of them good.
The witches—Tiffany, Beth, Shane, Elsa, and Yvonne—were gathered around Raphael’s bed. I briefly wondered where Cosette was hiding herself, but Raphael took all my attention as his breath came in loud rasping wheezes.
“He’s worse than before.” I’d thought we had more time for Claudia to find a cure and get back, but now… A shudder of fear ran up my spine.
“He’s dying,” Elsa said. She was shorter than me—which was a feat since I was barely over five feet tall—and rail thin. Her pixie cut made her appear even younger than she was. She usually liked to fade into the background, but every once in a while she said something that cut deep.
This time I hoped she was wrong. “Where’s—”
Dr. Gonzales pushed past me, answering the question on my mind. “I’ve got an idea.” She held one of her needles. “I don’t know about the dose. He’s human, but I think the demon’s overpowering the human side. If I’m wrong, this could go very badly, though. I want—”
“Whatever it is, do it,” Shane said. “He’s suffering.”
I’d never seen Dr. Gonzales so nervous. Her shirt was wrinkled and a strand of glossy black hair fell free of her usually immaculate ponytail. “No. I want to be absolutely clear. I’ve been monitoring him all night, but he’s working through the drugs faster and faster. I’m taking a big risk here. I’m using enough sedative to put a full alpha down for a long nap. This could go badly.”
“We won’t hold it against you,” Yvonne said a little too quickly. The older woman stood at the head of Raphael’s bed, gripping one of his hands. Her long, gray hair was pulled into a low bun and her tea-length khaki skirt hung a little askew on her hips. I didn’t think she meant Raphael harm, but she hadn’t even considered the risks Dr. Gonzales mentioned. Why?
“What’s happened?” I asked.
“He went into cardiac arrest early this morning,” Dr. Gonzales said.
“About the time Claudia’s plane took off,” Elsa said.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Had I been wrong to encourage her to go?
“We finally got him more or less stabilized. His heart rate is still high, which means he’ll be lucid and hurting again in a few minutes, unless I try something stronger. Whatever has a hold on him isn’t giving up easily.”
This shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it.
A hand grasped my arm, and I opened my eyes. Tiffany stood there, staring at me. She was the one coven member I knew the least about. I’d never really talked to her, but if she was here instead of with Luciana, then it was a good indicator that she was a good witch. “It’s not your fault. We all told Claudia to go.” She waited for that to sink in, and it did, but I still felt responsible for Raphael. For everything. “What Luciana does isn’t in your control. She probably sensed Claudia slipping away, and this is retaliation.”
“I didn’t know that was possible.”
“Many things are possible when you’ve taken a blood oath,” Yvonne said.
