Jenks rose in a sprinkling of pixy dust that made me squint. It wasn’t bright, but my eyes hurt that bad. “He’s glad you’re okay,” he said, his tiny features serious.

“This is okay?” I said, and from the sanctuary came an odd, yodeling bark of laughter.

My throat hurt, and I held a hand to it as I sat up. There was Were spit on my face, and I wiped it off with the damp washcloth and set it over the edge of the pan. My muscles hurt. Hell, everything hurt. And I hadn’t liked my head being in David’s mouth at all.

The sound of manicured nails clacking on the floorboards drew my attention to the dark hallway as he trotted past headed for the back of the church. His backpack and clothes were in his mouth, and his coat trailed behind like a downed animal.

“Jenks,” Ceri said softly. “See if he’s going to change here or if he’d like some help getting his things in his satchel.”

Jenks rose up, falling back at a short negative bark from the living room.

Jaw clenched against a Texas-sized headache, I decided it was likely he’d change back before leaving. It was illegal to Were in public outside of the three days around the full moon. Once the restriction had only been tradition; now it was law to make humans feel better. What Weres did in their own homes was their own business. I was confident no one would say anything about him shifting to help save me from a demon, but he couldn’t drive his car in the shape he was in, and catching a ride on a bus wasn’t going to happen.

“Well,” Keasley said as he sat on the edge of my bed, “let’s take a look at you.”

“Ow…” I exclaimed when he touched my shoulder and the bruised muscle sent a stab of pain through me. I pushed his hand off me, and he shifted closer.

“I’d forgotten what a pain-in-the-butt patient you are,” he said, reaching out again. “I want to know where you’re hurting.”

“Stop,” I croaked, trying to slap his knobby arthritic hands. “My shoulder hurts where Al pinched it. My hands hurt where I scraped them, my chin and stomach hurt where he dragged me down the steps. My knees hurt from…” I hesitated. “…falling in the road. And my face hurts where Al slapped me.” I looked at Ceri. “Do I have a black eye?”

“You will in the morning,” she said softly, wincing in sympathy.