I got the gist of the story out on the drive to the doctor’s office. Jen listened in disbelief, saving her commentary until after my appointment. I’d known Doc Howard since I was barely out of diapers. Even though I never got sick, Mom took me to the town doctor for all my regularly scheduled checkups. He took my temperature—which he pronounced Daisy-normal at a hundred and five—and blood pressure, listened to my heart, peered into my ears and eyes and throat with the bright-light scope thingy; or at least he did his best. It hurt so much I had a hard time keeping my eyes open during that part.

Bottom line, there was no sign of anything physically wrong with me, not even an impacted wisdom tooth.

Damn.

A part of me had been hoping for an impacted wisdom tooth.

“Daisy?” Doc Howard’s concerned face floated blurrily in my vision. “I’m going to write you a prescription for migraine medication and recommend that you make an appointment with your dentist as soon as possible just to be sure about that tooth. Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He scribbled on a prescription pad. “But if the headache and blurred vision continue for more than seventy-two hours, call me and I’ll refer you to Appeldoorn Community Hospital for a CT scan.”

I took the slip of paper. “Okay.”

“Have a lollipop,” Doc Howard said sympathetically, holding out a jar I remembered from my childhood. “It might help bring up your blood sugar level. Just be sure to eat something healthy when you get home.”

I tried to smile, but it hurt to move the muscles of my face. “Thanks, Doc.”

Then it was back out into the skull-shattering sunlight. Swear to God, I had no idea pain could be this fucking painful. My head felt like it was swollen to twice its normal size and misshapen, ballooning around the jackhammering agony in my jaw.

Bring it on, bitch.

I had a feeling it had been brung.

“So what’s it going to be?” Jen asked me. “Are we going to the drugstore to get your prescription filled or are we going to go kick some obeah woman ass?”

If I could have laughed, I would have. “Drugstore. Right now, I couldn’t kick Stacey Brooks’s ass.”

Back in downtown Pemkowet, Jen double-parked outside the drugstore and came back with a vial of Imitrex, a bottle of water, and a pair of the darkest cheap sunglasses she could find. “Here.” She popped the lid on the vial and shook out a tablet, handing it to me. “The pharmacist said to take one now, and another in two hours if the migraine persists.”

“Thanks.” I cracked open the bottle of water to wash down the pill.

“What happens if this doesn’t work, Daise?” There was a worried note in her voice. “What are you going to do?”