“Of course.” He sounded like he wanted to say something else, but let it go.

Smart of him. I got myself into my sneakers, took a few deep breaths, and the aspect retreated. I

couldn’t feel the fangs anymore when I turned around and faced him.

“Let’s go.”

Jealousy

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Djamphir and wulfen both heal pretty quickly. So the infirmary isn’t a place you want to end up. If

you’re hurt so bad you have to go there, it’s probably not going to end well.

Ash wasn’t in one of the curtained enclosures in the middle of the big vaulted space. He was in one

of the stone-walled rooms along the sides, wrapped in white bandages and strapped down to what

looked like an operating table while IVs dripped and beeping machines measured his vital signs.

Heartbeat, blood pressure, brainwaves, everything.

Underneath the beeping and booping, a humming crackle ran. His fur was matted with dried blood,

and the shape of his face kept changing. The slender snout would retreat, fur sliding away until you

could almost, almost get a glimpse of what he would look like as a boy.

Except for the ruined jaw. You could see where the silver grains went in, and it was still seeping a

weird clear fluid. His eyes were closed, and the crackle would rise in waves.

“He’s trying to change back.” Dibs had a stethoscope on his neck and the businesslike attitude he always adopted around the wounded. “Getting close to it, too. If we can keep him alive long enough

to do it. We’re feeding him intravenously with five and hypodermically with fifty percent dextrose

to fuel the change—”

“What are his chances?” Christophe didn’t sound impressed.

“I’m not a doctor yet, you know. They just have me attending because I’m sub enough not to set

him off.”

“What are his chances?”

“About twenty percent. Better than nothing, though, right? There’s hope.” Dibs cocked his head and

looked at me as if I’d been the one asking questions. “We’re doing everything we can, Dru. He’s

tied down because otherwise he rips the subclavian catheter out. That’s how we’re feeding him the

five percent stuff, see? And the fifty percent solution with a hypo every hour or so. He’s holding

steady.”

The crackle crested again, fur running off and melting. A patch of bare pale skin showed on his

chest. I held my breath. The pale spot retreated, swallowed by dark wiry hair.

Ash surged against the restraints. I found out my hands were fists. You can do it. The same thing I’d

told him night after night. Come on. You can do it.

I reached forward, my fingers unloosening just a little.

“Dru.” Christophe, warning me.

I ignored him. Touched the back of Ash’s paw. Hand. Whatever. Fur flowed away, another bare