Whatever I’d done had worked. Twenty minutes after taking that blood into my body, I felt sick as hell. Walking up the hill took all my strength, and just resting on this rock was making me breathe in ways that felt like my lungs were about to implode. My skin prickled worse than ever; and it was the fever, the burn, that hot lick of death settling in. I couldn’t believe how fast it was hitting me.
“I was stupid,” I said to Zee, who sat beside me, very still and quiet. “I got lazy.”
He said nothing. Raw and Aaz flopped down against my legs, dragging a six-pack of beer behind them, two tubs of fried chicken, and a small chain saw.
“M&M’s,” I said absently, and moments later, one of them put a large crunchy plastic bag in my hand, already open. I started popping chocolate. Dek and Mal slithered down my arms, and I fed them, too. Their purrs radiated heat.
“No Hunter has died of disease, right?” I asked the boys.
“Kill it in our sleep,” Zee rasped. “Only one old mother poisoned. Refused to listen.”
“Idiot.”
He sighed. “Hated us. Hated daughter. Hated all her old mothers. Tried to forget life. Tried with blood and war. Tried with strong drink. Could not kill herself, so let another.”
“How did her daughter respond?”
“Blamed us. Did not live long past own daughter. Better, after that.”
I bet. “When was this?”
Dek hummed, then chirped. Zee nodded at him. “Four thousand years. More than. Came by boat and foot across ice-north in winter. Walked down along coast. Walked for years. Walked into jungle. Walked into blood.”
Sick as I felt, that still made me smile. “So my ancestors came to this continent four thousand years ago, then rambled on down to South America?”
Zee shrugged. “Had time. No fear. When no fear, go places.”
Such true words. But I was envious of those women, envious that their world had been simpler.
“Nothing ever simple,” rasped Zee, so quietly I barely heard him. “Not death, even.”
I touched his head. “Do you ever wish you could die?”
Raw and Aaz stopped eating. Zee lay down beside me, curling close as the spikes of his hair flexed against my hand.
“Sometimes,” he whispered.
I ached for him. “Can you die?”
“All are mortal.” The little demon reached into the bag of M&M’s. “All.”
I swallowed hard, throat dry, skin blazing with fever. Tears burned my eyes. Shame, frustration, anger—all rolled through my heart, filling me up until I wanted to scream. I’d been so cocky. So sure of myself. Rushing headlong into danger because I assumed someone else would save me. Hadn’t I learned my lesson by now?
And it wasn’t just me I’d put at risk. That was the worst part.
“I’m afraid,” I told them. “I’m afraid for my daughter. I screwed up.”
Zee placed his claws on my chest, above my heart. “Last until morning. Fight.”
Fight. Yes, I could do that.
Fuck it all. I’m not going to die.
Five minutes later, I started vomiting blood.
DON’T take breathing for granted, my mother once said. Never say for sure that you’ll still be alive tomorrow.
I wasn’t sure I was going to be alive in an hour, and it wasn’t even midnight.
Zee held a cold bottle of water, and a wet rag that he used to dab my face. Raw had shoved a pillow beneath my head and knees, and Aaz was on my other side, rocking back and forth with a teddy-bear paw stuck in his mouth. Dek and Mal coiled beside my head, under my head, across my chest—absolutely silent.
I needed that silence. Little jackhammers were assaulting my joints and muscles—my skin burned, I burned—and my head hurt so badly, I closed my eyes and breathed through my mouth, afraid to move. Even a purr would have been too loud. The more I hurt, the more I retreated inside myself, moving deeper, downward, part of me hoping to get so lost I didn’t feel any of the pain.
The fear, I couldn’t help. I was so afraid, afraid of everything, afraid for our child, afraid Grant would feel my distress through our bond and try to reach me—afraid that everyone I loved was going to be hurt, and lost.
Fight. Stay alive.
I vomited again, utterly helpless as that bitter burning wash of heat pushed up my throat. I tasted blood in my mouth and coughed, spitting out what I could—but it exhausted me so much, I had trouble rolling over to my back. I had to stay where I was for several long minutes, face pressed to cool stone, eyes wet with tears.
Fight. Stay alive.
I fell deeper into myself, awareness shrinking to breath, heartbeat, the stone against my back. I fell even deeper, aware of my mother’s bones beneath me, and my grandmother to my left. Dead and alive, both at the same time. Dead here, alive in the past, and the walls were so thin between us. How often had I breached that wall, how often had I stepped through to another world? They were both so close: just on the other side of a thought, a wish, a dream.