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Marco knifedover with a sickly gurgle. I jumped to my feet, my pulse hiccupping. My fingers dug into the biscuit I’d just taken. The salty flavor of the bacon went sour in mymouth.
The other guys sprang up to. Aaron ran to Marco’s side. “I’m fine,” the jaguar shifter protested, right before he gagged again, clutching his stomach. West eyed him, his stance rigid. Nate took a step toward him and stopped, his hand falling to his abdomen. A sudden sweat gleamed on hisforehead.
“He’s not fine,” he said. “And I don’t think I ameither.”
“The food,” West snapped. He dropped down by the pack we’d filled with our meal supplies, leaning close to take in a deep breath. He smelled the package of bacon, tossed it aside, and reached for the biscuits. As he pressed his nose to the bag’s opening, his eyes narrowed. He inhaled again, slow andcareful.
“They’re tainted,” hesaid.
I hardly had a chance to wonder how or what exactly that meant. Nate barged around the fire and smacked the biscuit I’d been holding from my fingers. I blinked at him, shaking my stinginghand.
“Sorry,” he said, his mouth twisting. “I just— I couldn’t letyou—”
He staggered over to the cave wall and sank down. Aaron’s head had jerked towardWest.
“What is it? Howserious?”
“Some kind of toxin,” West said. He pulled out one of the biscuits and broke it open to take another careful sniff. “A natural substance, not artificial. Hard to pick up if you’re not looking for it. Which obviously was thepoint.”
“They’ve beenpoisoned?” I burst out. “What are we going todo?”
“How many of these did you eat?” West askedMarco.
“A couple,” Marco muttered. He wiped his mouth, his dark hair slanting over his hooded eyes. He kept his face averted as if ashamed—as if he thought I’d feel anything other than concern and sympathy seeing my mates in this state. My hands balled at mysides.
“I only had one,” Nate said by the wall, his voice strained. A shudder ran through his sprawledlegs.
“They’re not laced very heavily,” West said. “To make it harder for us to notice. You’re feeling the effects, obviously, but I’d be surprised if it’s enough to killyou.”
Marco snorted. “Oh,that’scomforting.”
If he could still manage sarcasm, he couldn’t be in absolute agony. But he was clearly feeling pretty wretched. His arm was wrapped tight around his belly. I looked from him to Nate, wanting to be with both of them, comforting them, at once. “Who could have done it? Who would havewantedto do it? Do you think—that weaselyesterday...”
West grimaced. “There’s a faint scent that says mustelid to me. They all have that oily thing going on. I’d say he’s our culprit,definitely.”
That answered thewhy, at least. The rogues had wanted to attack us any way they could. And we didn’t have to worry about more harm from that quarter, because the fae had taken care of that enemy yesterday. But...“Whencould he have done it? We all ate biscuits yesterday morning, and we were fine. They’ve been in the pack since then, haven’tthey?”
Aaron nodded. “And it hasn’t been out of oursight.”
“There were times when we weren’t paying a lot of attention to the supplies,” Nate pointed out. “While we were packing up the tent. During the lunchstop.”
“You’d think we’d have scented the weasel himself if he came that close.” West set down the bag of biscuits, his eyes narrowing. “It’s almost as if he snuck around us by magic, isn’tit?”
Aaron gave him a sharp look. “We’re better off not making accusations where we have noproof.”
“No,” West agreed, straightening up. “But it’s something to keep inmind.”
Magic. Did he think the fae had helped the weasel shifter get to us? But even if they’d wanted to hurt us, why would they have killed their ally afterward and pretended to beours?
I wasn’t sure if it was safe to ask. The fae woman had said her people were on their way off the mountain, but if they’d resort to poisoning, we obviously couldn’t trust anything they’d said. And the way she’d appeared out of nowhere—how could I be sure they weren’t listening to our conversation rightnow?
An eerie prickling ran over myskin.
Marco pushed himself back toward the fire, away from the puddle of sick. Like Nate, he was sweating, his face grayed beneath the gleam of perspiration. His arm wobbled as it supported his weight. But his eyes were mostlyclear.
I knelt next to him, gripping his shoulder in a way I hoped showed how muchIcared about him. “You should rest until you feel better.” I glanced over at Nate. “You too. I don’t want you making yourselves anymoresick than you alreadyare.”
My gaze moved to Aaron. He was the one who’d spent the most time studying. Maybe he’d gone through some medical books in his reading. “Is there anything we can do to help them recoverquickly?”
