I slowly sat up and moved to sit on the edge of the tub. The room seemed to darken around the edges, and I abruptly wrapped a fluffy pink towel around myself in case I passed out. When the room stopped going gray, I pulled the plug on the tub and carefully stood. It drained noisily, and I wiped the mist from the mirror, leaning against the sink to look at myself.

A sigh shifted my shoulders. Matalina came to rest on my shoulder, watching me with sad eyes. I looked as if I’d fallen out of the back of a truck. One side of my face was welted with a purple bruise that spread up into my eye. Keasley’s bandage had fallen off, showing a red gash following the arc of my eyebrow, to make me look lopsided. I didn’t even remember getting cut. I leaned closer, and the victim in the mirror mimicked me. Gathering my resolve, I pulled my damp, stringy hair away from my neck.

A sound of resignation slipped from me. The demon hadn’t made clean punctures, but rather, three sets of tears that melted into each other like rivers and tributaries. Matalina’s tiny stitches looked like a little railroad trellis running down to my collarbone.

The remembrance of the demon pulled a shudder from me; I had nearly died under it. Just that thought was enough to scare the hell out of me, but what was going to keep me awake at night was the niggling awareness that for all the terror and pain, the vampire saliva it had pumped into me had felt good. Lie or not, it had felt … staggeringly wonderful.

I gripped the towel closer around me and turned away. “Thank you, Matalina,” I whispered. “I don’t think the scars will be that noticeable.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It was the least I could do. Would you like me to stay and make sure you get dressed all right?”

“No.” The sound of a mixer came from the kitchen. I opened the door and peeked into the hall. The smell of eggs was thick in the air. “I think I can manage, thanks.”

The small pixy nodded and flitted out with her needlework, her wings making a soft hum. I listened for a long moment, and deciding Nick was safely occupied, I hobbled to my room, breathing a sigh of relief upon reaching it undetected.

My hair dripped as I sat on the edge of my cot to catch my breath. The thought of putting on pants made me cringe. But I wasn’t going to wear a skirt and nylons, either. I finally settled on my “fat jeans” and a blue button-up plaid shirt that was easy enough to get into without bringing on too much pain from my shoulder and arm. I wouldn’t be caught dead in such an outfit on the street, but it wasn’t as if I was trying to impress Nick.

The floor kept shifting under my feet as I dressed, and the walls tilted if I moved fast, but eventually I emerged with my damp amulets clanking about my neck. I scuffed down the hallway in my slippers, wondering if I ought to try to cover my bruise with a complexion spell. Standard makeup wasn’t going to cut it.