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After they examined my lungs, a few burns that I hadn’t managed to escape, and my ankle—which they didn’t know if it was fractured or sprained—they declared I needed to go to the hospital. Without further ado, the medics loaded me into the ambulance and took off.
* * *
The nurse adjustedthe hospital bed so I was reclining at a slight angle but still high enough to help me with the cough that the smoke had triggered. Bran and May were there, waiting with me, as the doctor came in. Her name was Patricia Hagg, and she was blunt but polite.
“Well, we have the results of your X-rays. You don’t have a fracture, but I’m still going to put you in a walking cast for a month. You’ll heal faster that way.” She checked her clipboard, aka my file. “Your lungs took a beating. I’m going to prescribe an inhaler for you, again for a month. It should help minimize the damage. As far as the burns go, we’ll dress them, but none are serious. Consider yourself one lucky woman. Now, you’re Otherkin?”
I nodded. “I’m magic-born.”
“Then I’ll make sure the meds and the pain med I’m going to prescribe you aren’t contraindicated.”
“How soon till you can release me?”
“As soon as we put you in that cast and the nurse dresses your burns.” She paused. “Do you have any questions about your treatment?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks. If I forget, I can call.”
As she left, I glanced over at May and Bran. For the first time in a year, I felt safe. At least, safe for the moment. I didn’t know how to thank them, but I was grateful they had come into my life, and maybe they could teach me how to step out of the self-imposed prison I had created for myself.
* * *
That night,once I was home with May ensconced in the guest room, I leaned against the headboard, my foot raised on several pillows. I was about to ask for help out to the recliner when Fancypants appeared on the bed next to me.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said.
“Listen—I owe you a huge debt. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you and for Bran.” I paused, closing my eyes. I could feel Fancypants’s trill of satisfaction, his joy in talking to me. I could feel the bond between us on a tangible level, and my heart welled up. “I’m so glad you found me,” I whispered, stretching out my hand.
Fancypants stepped on my palm. He held onto my thumb, rubbing his cheek against it. “You’re my person. I’m your dragonette.”
I curled up under the covers and instantly fell asleep.
* * *
Two weeks later…
Bree and I were sitting outside on the patio. I stretched out my foot. “I can hardly wait to get rid of this cast. I’m so tired of it.”
“How long do you have left?”
“Two more weeks.” I paused, then asked, “Have you heard from Darla lately?”
“Yeah, she and Kevin are back together and he’s back to normal. They sold the land and the remains of the house and they’re looking to move out of town. I don’t think Starlight Hollow has much to offer them. At least he’s back to being a loving husband and father. She says next house, they’re buying a new build and doing research on the land first.” Bree stared at the herb garden. “What about your mother?”
“She’s coming down this weekend. I finally caved and said all right. She’ll stay for a week to help me out until I get this cast off. I’m healing up faster than expected, so just one week left.”
“Good, I’d like to see her,” Bree said.
“I still haven’t told her my great-grandma’s coming in another two weeks. I’ll wait till she gets here. They never got along very well, so I doubt my mother will want to stick around for that visit.”
“Yeah, I remember some of your mother’s stories about her.” Bree sighed. “There was another murder last night. That’s four.”
“I heard. I was hoping that the killer had moved on. It’s almost scarier that he let time go by between Jimithy’s murder and this one. That says to me that he’s calculating, not an opportunist.”
The murders had clouded Starlight Hollow’s charm and everybody in town seemed guarded. During summer, the bicyclists and hikers and joggers should be out in full force, but the streets were empty at night and everyone seemed in a hurry to get home.
“Daisy still thinks Elroy’s trouble, but he has an airtight alibi for the third, so she’s finally looking elsewhere. But if he’s not the murderer, that means another wolf shifter is. Unless Jimithy was wrong.”
“Do you think Jimithy was wrong?” Bree asked.
