“I fly. I can.”

I made the transition to lie flat on my back. The Fragile One held the paper gown up against my front.

“Leah, a blanket, if you please. I think they just brought more in.”

“On it, doctor.”

It was harder to breathe while lying down. I let the doctor putter around, preparing the space for things to come. My flight kept me from pressing down too hard on the bed.

A distant screech built up in volume. Horror gripped me, lingering even as I processed it as hospital equipment or someone’s power. Not the Simurgh’s scream.

I winced, because the sound had induced a bit of panic, and the panic came with heavier, faster breathing. My hand gripped the edge of the bed.

“We’ll need you to sign a consent form,” he told me. In the wake of the noise, it hit me harder. I shivered.

The blood transfusion—if I said yes to it, I was effectively surrendering. Saying there was nothing more. My fight was done, no powers, no nothing.

“Knock knock.”

Ugh, fuck. Was this a bad thing? A good thing?

“Can I come in?”

The doctor looked at me. “A friend?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

“I’m topless, except for a bit of paper, I don’t know if you care about that,” I said, raising my voice.

“I was a warlord, I’ve cut throats, had my throat cut, I’ve shot people,” Tattletale said, as she let herself in. “I really don’t care about your boobs.”

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to move my head too, but that wasn’t an option.

“Are you here for a particular reason, Tattletale?” I asked.

“Chastity. She got a good knock to the noggin. Cassie’s fretting and Rachel needed to be told it’d be better if she stepped away instead of getting cranky about it. I saw Marquis and a certain someone take their leave, realized you were here.”

“Mm. My neck and side hurt like fuck, did you think I need a pointed pain in my ass instead? You don’t have to.”

“Nah, hon. Just checking in. You did your ‘brute destroy, grr argh’ thing, you apparently forgot you’re supposed to be invincible, now your job is done. Mine is ongoing.”

“Gathering info.”

“I just told you I was a warlord. I’m still managing, administrating, moving key pieces around.”

“Rah rah,” I said.

“So I’ll get right to it,” she told me. “A lot of the pieces are running around very upset and concerned about something that apparently started with you.”

“Uh huh. That.”

“I want to play a little game, Vicky. If I say black, you say…”

“White?” I ventured.

“Yeah,” she said, like it was the most profound thing ever.

“Can I kick her out?” I asked Nurse Leah, who had just made her way inside, navigated around Tattletale, and who was now draping a weighted, warm blanket over my legs.

“You could.”