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Chapter Nine
Cerine
He looked at me with those incredible blue eyes. I mean, mine are blue, too, a darker version inherited from my mother and my grandmother before her. His were more intense, like the ocean, deep and fathomless. At the moment, they held a map of the pain and illness he’d been through over the past few days. Bloodshot whites, dark shadows underneath.
“Just talk, tell me anything.” I hated to make him think any more about what they’d seen. Finding them all dead, and in such a horrible mess, evidence of their agony all around and on them.
“We didn’t even bathe them before we buried them,” he muttered. “It was so ugly and so disrespectful. Our alpha, our healer…the bard…everyone. Buried in their own filth, vomit, excrement…”
I couldn’t even imagine how he must feel. Losing everyone he loved like that. Everyone except his mate who currently lay unconscious, and I was far less sure of my diagnosis than I wanted to convey. Rather, it was only a partial diagnosis. I smelled no sickness. Even what Trace had vomited did not smell of infection. I’d felt no fever, no infection, nothing that suggested it was a living enemy like a virus or germ in general.
When a pack member died, at least for Triple L, there was a lot of ceremony involved. For any member, much less someone like the alpha. The bathing of the body, dressing and preparing them then wrapping them in special winding cloths of pure white cotton before they were laid in their grave. Then everyone stood around, and their nearest and dearest said something in farewell and laid a token on their chest to take with them to their next life. It could be anything significant to the relationship that person had with them. I’d seen seeds for flowers or vegetables, small items of jewelry, a new knife or other tool, a photograph… We didn’t mark graves with stones, no shifters did that I knew of. But we didn’t need to. Their resting place was engraved on the souls of those who loved them.
None of that happened in this case. They hadn’t had time if they wanted their beloved dead to escape rotting above ground or being chewed on by animals. If they had died as a result of some kind of poison, it might have killed the predators, too, and while wild wolves and cats were not always our friends, they didn’t deserve to die.
I ran through all the possible poisons or environmental toxins that could have led to such a catastrophic loss of life. The whole pack dead? Nobody escaped…but these two weren’t dead, and Finton wasn’t even all that sick.
“Were you as sick as Trace?”
He grimaced. “I was sick. Throwing up and aching from head to foot. Then it eased some, but, honestly, I don’t feel myself even now. But better than that.”
“And you said the others had diarrhea, but neither of you has had that? Not at all?”
“No, but yes the others had it, all of them so far as I could tell.” He closed his eyes, jaw tightening. “It must have been humiliating.”
“No, they probably weren’t thinking that way.” If they were anything like our pack, they’d have been trying to make each other feel better. “And you can’t, either. But the fact that you had lesser symptoms is good. As is your current condition.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He twirled the mug between his hands.
“Keep drinking. And when that’s empty, have another cup.” I settled on the bed next to his mate. “I’m going to try to get some in Trace now. If I can wake him up enough to swallow. If it runs into his lungs, we’ll be risking a whole other set of problems.”
“Then let me help.” He tipped the mug up and gulped the remaining tea. “God, that’s nasty.”
“When you’re feeling better, I’ll make you something lovely to drink but this is designed to clean out what’s making you sick.” Provided I was right and it wasn’t some kind of bug I was missing.
It’s not a disease.
Thank you. I’m glad you agree.Because I really needed the support.
Our mates are poisoned from the metal.
They are not our…what?
The metal. Can’t you smell it?
I leaned close to Trace and inhaled.I don’t smell anything.
I do…and I am part of you. Do you need to shift to scent it?
Maybe…but not yet.What I needed was to get some liquids, this tea specifically, into Trace. “If you want to help, sit on the bed and prop him against you. Then see if you can wake him up enough to swallow without choking.”
“All right.” Finton stood and moved to the bed where he settled beside his mate.Note to self, and wolfhismate. “Like this?” He arranged Trace halfway across his lap, holding him close with the back of his head resting on his chest.
“Yes.” I sat beside them and studied the unconscious man’s face. “Trace, you don’t know me, but I’m the Triple L healer, and I need you to wake up for some medicine, okay?”
Finton brushed his lips over the other man’s cheek. “Come on, Mate. We need to listen to the healer or we’ll never get you well. The tea is nasty, but it’s good for you, so…open your eyes?”
At first I didn’t think anything was going to happen, but then his eyelids fluttered a little. “Keep talking. I think he hears you,” I urged.
