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The bricks collapsed suddenly, a series of thuds as they hit the lawn, and a series of groans and curses from Chaz and Mallet.
Caine seemed almost not to notice. “What do you think it was, Diana?” he said, almost as if he’d read her thoughts.
“I think they didn’t set them straight enough,” she replied, knowing that wasn’t what he meant.
“Not that. Her. Nurse Temple.” He repeated the name, drawing it out to get the feel of it. “Nurse. Connie. Temple.”
Diana sighed. This was not a conversation she wanted to have. “I didn’t really know the woman.”
“She has two sons. One she keeps. The other she gives up for adoption. I was a baby.”
“I’m not a shrink,” Diana said.
“I always had the feeling, you know? That my family wasn’t my real family. They never said I was adopted, but my mother—well, the woman I thought was my mother, I don’t know what to call her now. Anyway, her, she never talked about having me. You know, you hear moms talking about going into labor and all. She never talked about that.”
“Too bad Dr. Phil’s not around. You could tell him all about it.”
“I think she must have been pretty cold. Nurse Temple. My so-called mother.” He was looking at Diana now, head cocked, frowning, skeptical. “Kind of like you, Diana.”
Diana made a rude sound. “Don’t try to get deep, Caine. She was probably just a screwed-up teenager at the time. Maybe she figured she could handle one kid but not two. Or maybe she tried to adopt both of you out, but no one would take Sam.”
Caine was taken aback. “Are you sucking up to me with that?”
“I’m trying to get you to move on. Who cares about your mommy issues? We have enough food for two, maybe three weeks. Then we’re down to beans.”
“See what I mean? I’ll bet she was just like you, Diana. Cold and selfish.”
Diana was about to answer when she heard a rushing sound behind her. She spun and saw a wave, a swarm of rough, shaggy yellow beasts. The coyotes seemed to come from everywhere at once, a disciplined, purposeful invasion that would quickly overwhelm her and Caine.
Caine raised his hands, palms out, armed and ready.
“No,” a voice yelled. “Don’t hurt them, they’re friends.”
It was Howard, marching up toward them, waving his hands. Behind him came the healer girl, Lana, looking shell-shocked.
And behind them, Drake.
Diana cursed. He was still alive.
And then she saw Drake’s arm.
The burned stump, the remains of the arm she had sawed off while Drake screamed and cried and threatened, had been altered.
It was stretched, like it had been turned into dark, bloodred taffy. It wrapped twice around his body.
No.
Impossible.
Howard came rushing up first. “Has Orc shown up here?” But neither Caine nor Diana answered. Both were staring at Drake, who sauntered toward them, all his cockiness restored, no longer the ragged scarecrow who had wept when he saw the melted stump of his hand lying on the tile floor. “Drake,” Caine said. “We thought you were dead.”
“I’m back,” Drake said. “And better than ever.”
The red tentacle unwrapped itself from around his waist, like a python releasing its victim.
“Like it, Diana?” Drake asked.
The arm, that impossible bloodred snake, coiled above Drake’s head, swirled, writhed. And then, so fast that the human eye could barely register the movement, it snapped like a bullwhip.
