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“Oh no, you don’t,” Helen said before Lila could sit up. “I said you would be fine. You’re not fine yet. Without the drugs you’re on right now, you’d be in a world of pain. You just got shot, Lila. Get some sleep. It’s past midnight, and the oracle has gone to bed. Connell has, too. He’s been fussing over you both all day.”
“Perhaps someone should be fussing over him. He lost people today.”
“Yes, he did, and he won’t be pleased to lose another because she’s too stubborn to rest.” Helen snatched up an envelope on the bedside table and handed it to Lila. “He left this for you.”
Lila gingerly opened the letter, squinting at the loopy writing. Connell and Mòr wanted her to sit in on Camille and Olivier’s interrogations, scheduled for the next day. They’d even set up a camera feed, if needed.
Lila put the letter back in the envelope. “When can I get out of bed?”
“Tomorrow morning, so long as everything looks good. You were very lucky the bullet went through your small bowel and—”
Lila cringed.
“Focus on the lucky part, not the yucky part. You’ll need to rest for a couple of weeks, but getting up and walking will prevent clots and help your colon kick into gear once again. Otherwise you’ll be backed up from here to New Orleans. You’ll also have to watch what you eat for a bit, but we’ll talk more about that later.”
“No salsa?”
Helen narrowed her eyes.
“No salsa.”
“High fiber and plenty of liquids will be your friend for the next few days. You’ll thank me later. Your hand won’t feel too great for a while either, but you didn’t break anything.” The doctor pulled up Lila’s covers and turned the light down to a dim glow. Sitting back in her chair, she covered herself with another purple blanket. “You’re lucky I like you. Today was my day off, and I spent it working. Fortunately, they had me bring Scout. I should have known something was up when the oracle mentioned that.”
“Where is he?”
“Last time I saw him, he was having the time of his life with the purplecoats. He went to the lake and swam for two hours, then returned for a rather long afternoon of fetch. The glutton had three tennis balls in his mouth when I saw him last.”
“Three?”
“With various levels of success. I think he’s helping to take their mind off things. I haven’t seen a lot of dogs around here. They told me he’d sleep in the barracks tonight, but they hadn’t settled on who’d get to take him as a roommate.”
“Thank you, Helen,” Lila said. “If I still had money, I’d buy you dinner.”
“If you still had money, I’d ask for a car.”
Lila might have chuckled if she hadn’t been carried away on white, fluffy clouds. Whatever her doctor had given her for the pain, she longed for more of it.
She woke hours later to find Helen gone and Dixon reading a book beside her, the cover illustration depicting Freyr and a few other gods. He hastily laid it next to plastic tray on a stainless steel table, then scribbled a line on his notepad. Your breakfast sucks. I checked.
“I imagine it will suck for a few days,” she said. “Beats not waking up, though.”
He lifted the tray’s lid. Grapes, strawberries, and sliced honeydew filled a little bowl. Two slices of whole-grain toast with jam sat on a plate next to it, and a small cup of orange juice rounded out the meal.
Now she knew how her father felt.
“It could be worse,” she said, picking up the toast. “I actually like strawberries.”
No eggs? No bacon? No sausage?
“Could you not?”
He offered an apologetic smile and tapped out a message on his palm, flashing it to her before he sent it. Connell had apparently wanted to know the moment she woke.
The purplecoat messaged back almost immediately. We’re on our way.
One of Connell’s people took Helen to work, Dixon wrote. I’m supposed to make sure you take it easy.
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
