Zavid turned his attention to Livia.

Livia gaped at Zavid, then Nick. “What? ’Cause I’m female I’m the wet nurse?”

“Well, yeah … you have the anatomy for it we lack,” Zavid said snidely.

Nick shrugged. “Don’t look at me for this. As stated, I lack the necessary female equipment for wet nursery. And I once killed a cactus and Bubba’s goldfish watching over them. No offense, I don’t want to kill Malphas or find a toilet big enough to flush him down. Not even sure how to water him or what to feed him. Come to think of it, I don’t recall him eating anything around me. Ever. Last time he went down, he told me he wanted blood to heal, and I only do that for the Red Cross.”

Caleb looked up to curl his lip at Nick, but didn’t comment on that. “Can someone please get me to bed? I don’t think I can make it up the stairs. And you should be grateful, Gautier. If I had the energy to stand, I’d probably strangle you. Or take an involuntary blood donation from your jugular.”

He vanished instantly.

Zavid walked over to Nick. “I sent him to his bed. But really, what’s going on? How can Malphas be sick and without his powers?”

“I don’t know. Is there some kind of demon that preys on us?”

“Many,” they said in unison.

Nick groaned. “Great. Good to know.” Caleb had been right. He should have never said the day was going good. Everything had just skidded off the Crap Exit ramp into Hexville.

“But,” Zavid interrupted his mental anguish, “never heard of anything like this.” He glanced to Livia. “You?”

She shook her head. “Not with a demon as powerful and old as Malphas. If they had that kind of ability to strip his powers, they’d have attacked the Malachai before him.”

“Yeah, but for once, nothing hit me.”

Caleb let out an eerie, pain-filled howl. Terrified some new enemy was trying to kill or eat his best friend, Nick bolted up the stairs and into the bedroom to find Caleb motionless on the black sheets.

His heart stopped. Caleb looked so dead. His normally dark olive complexion had a bluish-gray cast to it.

Please. Please, don’t have died. He really wasn’t ready to say good-bye to his friend.

Not like this.

Nick approached the bed slowly and cautiously. There was no telling what could be going on. Terrified, he reached his hand out to check Caleb’s breathing. It was faint, but it was still there.

Overwhelmed with relief, Nick sank to his knees by the bed and whispered a grateful prayer. “Hang in there, buddy. I’m going to find an answer for this. And get you right back on your feet. I promise.”

He had no idea how, but there had to be some way to cure it. Some way to restore Caleb. It had to be a spell or curse or rabid dog hair, or something odd that was causing this. And if it was, then it could be undone.