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Pellini gave a slow nod as he peered at my trapped hands. “I’ll call dispatch as soon as you’re—”
“No! What could they do? It’s not like he ate a bad tuna sandwich or jabbed a screwdriver in his eye! He’ll end up in a bureaucratic nightmare with people who have no clue what to do with this shit.”
“And you do?” Pellini moved to the other side of the bed.
I glared at him. “Better than anyone else would.”
He leaned forward to examine Cory, and I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting at him to hurry. His way of seeing the arcane was different than mine and, I hoped in this case, better.
“The slime-gel is all one piece,” Pellini finally said. “A full-body mucus wetsuit. Both physical and arcane.”
“I figured that much out when it grabbed me,” I muttered. “Is there an origin point or source? Somewhere it’s more concentrated?”
“Uh huh. Damn.” He peered closer. “It’s like someone shoved a radioactive arcane pool ball in his gut.”
“A tumor?” That fit the arcane disease theory.
Pellini gave me a hell-if-I-know shrug. “It’s solid. Dense. And spitting out god knows what.”
With Pellini’s guidance, I located the tumor with my othersight, felt it as a low level ache behind my eyes. And, surprise surprise, it carried the same resonance as the brain roar. “Okay, first order of business is to get me free of this crap. Can you lay a few Pellini-pygahs around it? Maybe if this thing chills out a bit it’ll loosen its hold.”
Pellini moved his hands in simple patterns over Cory. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Jeez, nice positive attitude. It’ll work.” The ache behind my eyes wavered as Pellini wove his sigils. I retraced my mental pygah and envisioned the tumor swaddled in a blanket of serenity. Everything’s cool, I thought to it. Nothing to worry about. After a moment, the hell gel softened enough for me to wiggle my fingers, but I resisted the temptation to jerk away. Before, pulling had only made it tighten its grip like a Chinese finger trap.
The gel softened a bit more. “That’s it, you vile little lump,” I murmured. “Keep it up and you’ll move off Santa’s naughty list in no time.”
Pellini added another sigil, and the ache behind my eyes dulled a notch. I eased out, millimeter by millimeter. The instant my knuckles cleared the gel, I yanked my hands free then shook them hard. “It worked.”
“That’s why you make the big bucks,” Pellini said, gaze still on Cory.
I flexed my fingers. My hands looked sunburned—including the palms—but seemed fine otherwise. The ache behind my eyes surged to its former strength as Pellini’s sigils faded. Grimacing, I rubbed at my temples. “What do we do with Timmy the Tumor now?”
“It’s physical,” Pellini said, forehead creased. “A surgeon could cut it out of him. Nip it in the bud.” Uncertainty colored his tone.
“Or possibly kill him outright.” Instinct screamed that cutting into him was wrong. “No. We don’t know anything about this except that it definitely has an arcane component. How’s a surgeon supposed to deal with that? We can’t risk it.”
“What’s your alternative?”
“Get him to the house. To the nexus.” My hope was that the arcane focal point in my back yard would allow me to delve deeper into what was going on with Cory and give me the info I needed to sort this out. “Timmy’s resonance reminds me of the arcane implants demonic lords stick in people for track
ing or surveillance.” I blew out a breath. “Except those aren’t physical.”
Pellini folded his arms over his chest and regarded me. “In other words, you got nothing.”
“Well pardon me for not being the font of all arcane knowledge,” I shot back, stung. “We need a lord’s expertise, but unfortunately, with the world completely fucked up, I have no way to summon one.”
His expression darkened. “You don’t need to summon one. Rhyzkahl is right in your—”
“No! I’m not using Rhyzkahl as any kind of resource. That’s not an option.” I took a deep breath. “We’ll get Cory to the house,” I continued in a calmer tone, “and I’ll assess from there—without Rhyzkahl.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it closed as Cory let out a low chuckle. My pulse lurched at the eerie sound. Pellini breathed a curse and shifted away from the bed.
“House,” Cory said, voice slurred. “Why are we going to your house?” Though his mouth was free of slime, the red gel shimmered creepily above his soft, peaceful smile.
“Oh, hey, Cory,” I said, doing my damndest to sound calm. “I have a diagnostic tool there that’ll let me see what’s going on with you.”
“Everything’s A-okay, Kara girl,” he sing-songed. “Never better, Kara girl Kara girl Kara girl. Pretty pretty colors around Kara girl. Blue . . . purple . . . pink . . . greeeeeeeen . . .” He trailed off, and the gel closed over his mouth again.
