Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5)(20)

Memories of my life now rushed back at me, hitting me all at once in a body slam. I wheezed, cramping with the pain, and realized my hand was bloody. A shard of magic mirror had cut my skin, and now my blood smeared its silver. The same hand wore my engagement ring, back in place where it should be. It was the mirror and the ring that had burned me in the dream, I realized, reality finally cutting through to me.

Janet, honey, the mirror cried. I missed you!

Mick gently took my face in his hands, as he had in the past, and looked deep into my eyes.

I rarely had this many people in my bedroom. I was dressed only in one of Mick’s T-shirts, and I couldn’t feel any panties on my butt. I self-consciously tugged the T-shirt down.

“What the hell happened?” My voice was a croak. “Last thing I remember is fighting at Flat Mesa last night. That guy, John, smacked me, and knocked me out. Where’s Gabrielle? Is she okay? Why are you all staring at me? I had some weird dreams, but I’m fine …”

Mick gently opened my hand, which was still squeezing the mirror, cutting into my skin. He set the shard aside.

“Sweetheart, you’ve been out for two weeks.”

Disorientation smacked me between the eyes. “No way in hell.”

The grave faces of those around me told me Mick wasn’t kidding. Cassandra looked particularly worried.

“Then why aren’t I in a hospital hooked up to machines?” I demanded. “How am I still alive?”

“Micky kept you going,” Colby answered. “And Cass with some wicked-ass spells.”

“You weren’t seriously injured,” Cassandra said. “Not physically anyway. Mick healed your burns and bites, but we couldn’t wake you up. I kept your body going with spells, but I was afraid I couldn’t keep it up much longer.”

Her voice wavered, and I saw her blink. My cool, all-business manager was on the edge of crying.

Coyote, who hadn’t bothered to dress himself, stood up. He was a big man, well muscled all over, his black hair pulled back into a tight braid. Why his hair didn’t come out of the braid when he shifted, I didn’t know, but he was a god, and they had their own rules. He saw no reason he shouldn’t stand among us without wearing a stitch, but again, gods do as they please.

“They found me when they got scared,” Coyote said. “I had my eye on you already, though. I was wondering how it would play out.”

My head was a place of fog and confusion. “Keeping an eye on me—in my dreams?”

“Sure,” Coyote said. “Why not?”

“What were you dreaming?” Mick asked me.

I looked right back into his eyes. “I was with you. A long time ago. In South Dakota, and then …”

I reached for the images, the happiness I’d been willing to drown in. It slipped from me, the vivid dream dispersing like a bursting soap bubble.

I screwed up my face, trying to hold on. Thoughts, feelings, and memories slid away. “It’s fading. I don’t remember.”

“Dreams do that,” Colby said.

“I’m hungry,” I started to heave myself up, eager to see what was in the kitchen, then sat back down and hauled the sheets over my bare legs. “Could you all, ah, give me a sec?”

“Of course,” Cassandra said smoothly.

She walked away after giving Colby a pointed look. Colby, with a wink at me, followed her out.

Pamela, the tall woman with black hair and wolf eyes, came to the bed. She was powerful, a Changer who could take the form of a black wolf. “Keeping you alive nearly killed her,” she snapped.

By her, she meant Cassandra. Pamela considered Cassandra her mate, and was very protective of her. If she’d thought she’d have to kill me to save Cassandra, she’d have done it. Mick would have tried to stop her, possibly killing her in the process, and then Cassandra would have taken out her grief on Mick. Good thing I woke up when I did.

“I’ll make it up to her,” I said to Pamela. “Tell her thanks.”

“Thanks. After she nearly drained herself dry.” Pamela’s mouth turned down and she clenched her fists, but she quickly turned and strode out.

Mick dragged the fiery gaze he’d rested on Pamela from the door, and looked at me again, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “I’m staying.”

“Good.” I glanced at Coyote who’d remained, watching us, his hands on his hips. “Coyote, could you, you know … leave?”

“Why? You have nothing I haven’t seen before, Janet. I don’t mind seeing it again.”

Mick growled, and fire sparked in the hand that wasn’t touching me.

I didn’t think Mick would actually throw the fire at Coyote, and Coyote didn’t either, so we both jumped about a foot when Mick’s fire smacked Coyote in the side.