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“Don’t be sorry. Just get better.” Grandma leaned forward and hugged me tight. “You had us all scared, Very-Very, and you know Sarah wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t love you more than anything.”
“I know,” I said, and returned the hug as best I could with the tubes sticking out of my arms. “If there’s anything I can do . . .”
“Just get better,” Grandma repeated, and let go, standing. “I don’t want to tire you out. You’re supposed to be still recovering.”
“Okay.” I sighed, sagging deeper into the mattress. “I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you, too, Very-Very.” She leaned in and tapped me gently on the forehead. “Now get some rest.”
Grandma wasn’t a receptive telepath, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t push. I was asleep almost before I felt myself getting tired, and I didn’t hear her leave the room.
I awoke to the sound of cheering.
“HAIL THE RESURRECTION OF THE ARBOREAL PRIESTESS!”
Normally, waking up to the mice will elicit a groan and maybe a flung pillow. This time, I just smiled and said, without opening my eyes, “Amen.”
The mice went nuts, shouting hosa
Next to the bed, Uncle Mike snorted and said, “You know, they’re not going to shut up for like a week.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” I opened my eyes and turned to face him, a process that was greatly simplified by the fact that most of the tubes—and the catheter—had been removed while I was sleeping. “Hi, Uncle Mike.”
“Hi, Very-girl. You pla
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “Grandma knocked me out before.”
“Because you needed it. If you’re awake, you don’t need it anymore. The doctor says you’re just about fully recovered at this point. I knew you were too stubborn to stay injured for long.” Now Uncle Mike smiled, relief underscoring the expression. “You scared the crap out of me, you know.”
“HAIL THE FAMILIAL TERROR!” exulted the mice.
“Hey, this is a hospital,” I said, sitting up to see the congregation gathered on my bed. There were only about a dozen of them present. It had sounded like more. “Keep it down.”
“Yes, Priestess,” said one of the mice, sounding abashed. The others cheered. Very softly.
“That’s better.” I looked back to Uncle Mike. “I didn’t exactly sign up to get kidnapped.”
“I know, I know.” Uncle Mike scowled. “When we got that anti-telepathy charm back, Kitty took it to some hidebehinds for a look-see. They said it had a homing compulsion on it. Once you picked it up, you had to return it to Margaret.”
“Well, that’s one bit of stupidity explained,” I said. “When you say ‘got it back,’ you mean . . .”
“That you had swallowed it, yes. And no, I’m not the one who had to do the actual retrieval.”
“Thank God for small favors,” I muttered, before asking, in a normal voice, “How did you find me?”
“Dominic. That boy’s crazy about you, you know. He’d better be. The Covenant will never take him back now.”
“Good thing I’m crazy about him, too.” I tried to say it lightly. I failed. “Uncle Mike, about Sarah . . .”
“She’s the one who made sure we kept looking for you, right up until Dominic showed up to help us out,” he said. “She’s the one who got the dragons looking for you, and it was the dragons who followed the Covenant back to their base and confirmed you were being held in that warehouse. She’s the one who transported the mice to the area to survey the ground floor and give us the all clear. Sarah knew what she was doing. I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, but she had her eyes wide open through this whole thing. None of it happened to her without her knowing it was a risk, just like you didn’t get shot without knowing it was a risk. Am I clear?”
“Crystal.” I sighed. “I still feel awful.”
“Good. You should feel awful.”
I blinked at him. “Way to pep talk, Uncle Mike.”
He looked at me implacably. “I’m serious. If a member of your family gets hurt, you feel bad. You figure out why it happened. You make sure it doesn’t happen again. Feeling awful is the first step. Everything after this is up to you.”
“Pep talk received,” I said.
“Good,” said a new voice from the doorway. I turned to see a man in scrubs and a lab coat, with broad white-feathered wings. He was looking at a clipboard. Then he looked up, and smiled. “I’d tell you that mice in a hospital were unhygienic, but as they’re Aeslin, I believe we can count them as family members and let this one slide. How are you feeling, Miss Price?”
“Totally better,” I said. “Can I get up?”
“Given that your injuries should be completely healed by this point, yes, you may get up whenever you like.” He lowered the clipboard. “I’m Dr. Morrow. I’ve been responsible for your care while you were here.”
Recognition sparked. “You’re the one who contacted me about the manananggal,” I said.
“Yes, and we very much appreciate you taking care of that for us. My mate and head nurse spoke very highly of your handling of that matter, which is why I was willing to take your case. We don’t treat many humans at St. Giles’.”
“Well, I really appreciate you taking the time to look after me.”
“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Price.” Dr. Morrow smiled. “I know how much you’ve done for this city. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“I brought some clothes for you,” said Uncle Mike. “You want me to take the mice so you can get dressed?”
“Please.” It wasn’t like the mice hadn’t seen me naked before—that was sadly unavoidable, no matter how much I might try to avoid it—but I still had standards.
“Thought so.” Uncle Mike handed me a folded bundle before standing, making a sweeping motion with his hands. “Come on, you lot. There’s cheese and cake in the waiting room.”
Cheering and hailing his name, the mice scampered from my bed and streamed across the tiled floor, disappearing between Dr. Morrow’s bare, vaguely-taloned feet. He watched this with an air of vague discomfort, finally saying, “We don’t treat many human patients, but the ones we do treat rarely come with their own traveling biosphere.”
“My family is special,” I said, with a smile.
“I’m getting that idea. Please don’t leave without speaking to me, Miss Price.” With that, the doctor stepped out of my hospital room. Uncle Mike paused long enough to kiss my cheek, and then he was gone as well, shutting the door behind himself.
I waited a few minutes to be sure that no one was going to come barging in before I stretched slowly and folded back the covers, finally moving into a full sitting position. I was wearing one of those pale green hospital gowns. It was almost a relief to realize that those were just as much standard issue in cryptid hospitals as they were in human ones. I took a breath, steeling myself, and pulled the gown up to get a look at my stomach where Peter had shot me.
Dr. Morrow was telling the truth: the gunshot wound was gone, and while the skin there was slightly paler than the skin around it, there was no scar. I touched it lightly with the tips of my fingers, feeling the first tears wet my cheeks. I was going to be okay. I was going to be better than okay, in fact. And that meant that whatever came next, it was going to be something that I needed to deal with.
Uncle Mike had chosen well, where clothes were concerned: he brought jeans, a tank top, a fla