“Otherwise, he’ll hurt himself. Or someone else. He’s still trying to rescue you.”
Oh, God. Sophie struggled to push herself up on her elbows. Made it, just barely. The unhealthy heat in her bones crested. Her stomach revolved. “Are you saying he’s—”
“That’s enough.” Julia bashed back in through the door, her arms full of towels, clothing, and—of all things—a squirt bottle. “Get the fuck out. I’m going to clean our shaman up and she’ll fix Zach, and then we’ll see who does what around here.” She dumped her cargo on the single bed and put her hands to her hips, dark eyes flashing. “You can’t have her. She’s our shaman. Our alpha rescued her. Go suck on a beehive or something.”
“She can’t even get out of bed.” Cullen sidled for the door, anyway. “You lose us this shaman, Carcajou, and your little Family will regret it.”
If they lose me, what happens? Sophie didn’t want to find out. She also didn’t want to be “lost.” It sounded a little more serious than taking the wrong bus, and if the way she felt was any indication, she’d probably been close to taking the wrong bus in a big way.
And never seeing Zach again.
“You know,” Julia said to the air over his head, “I’m really not liking this whole veiled threat thing you’ve got going on. This is our shaman. She’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s right.” Sophie surprised herself. The words came out stronger than she would have thought possible. “And I’d like a little privacy while I get cleaned up, Cullen. Thank you.”
He inclined his head at her and was gone, pulling the door shut with a muffled thump she suspected would have been a rattling bang if he hadn’t pulled it at the last second.
“Bear Tribe.” Julia made a small snorting sound. “Always so careful and cautious and stupid and boring. And that one’s got a head made out of concrete.”
You must like him. She didn’t even have the energy to say it, but Julia cocked her head as if Sophie had spoken.
“I’m sorry. You must feel awful, all covered in that crud. I’m going to fix you up, right? Then you’ll fix Zach up. Right?” She suddenly looked very young, and not at all determined. The pale streak in her hair glittered in the gray light.
As a matter of fact, with her eyes huge and round and her mouth all but trembling, Julia looked about three years old.
A weight of responsibility settled on Sophie’s aching body. They were depending on her. And she really didn’t even think she could make it to the bathroom without falling down in a heap.
Buck up, Sophie. This isn’t the first impossible thing you’ve done.
She set her jaw and lifted her chin. “Right.” It came out sounding like she actually believed it, even though it was more of a whispering croak than anything else. “You bet. But first I have to pee.”
The house was larger than she would have guessed from the narrow upstairs room, and smelled of floor wax, fabric softener, and clean healthy animals. A whole “sleuth” of Bear Tribe lived here, and the house was full of them.
And they were all nervous. Sophie got the idea it was because they weren’t quite sure what Zach would do.
Her scalp still itched. Julia had helped her to the bathroom, where Sophie stared longingly at the shower before getting rid of some serious bladder pressure. Then it was the laborious process of scrubbing off dirt and dried blood. It was curiously like having a mother scrub a child—Julia evinced no embarrassment whatsoever, and it was hard for Sophie to even blush when she was concentrating so hard on staying upright.
There were stairs, which Julia half carried her down, Sophie’s arm over her slim shoulders. Two bear-people were in the hall—a stocky woman who nodded at Sophie and a smaller, wider young man with beads braided into his long dishwater hair. He smelled somehow pale, and when a low sound ran through the house’s walls he actually flinched.
“That’s Zach,” Julia whispered. “If he gets free the sleuth will have to stop him.”
Stop him. Sophie concentrated on one foot in front of the other. Her arms and legs were as weak as a newborn kitten’s. The drink was still burning in her, heat running through her bones, but she didn’t like the unsteady queasy feeling following in its wake. I don’t think they’ll be baking him cupcakes. I think she means “kill him” but doesn’t want to say it.
The hall passed a living room, three bear-people clustered around a television, playing a video game. One of them glanced up, sniffing, and stared at Sophie. Two more bear-people were on the couch, sleeping snuggled together like cats. An older man hunched in front of the window, watching the street. He held a shotgun easily, and yawned without blinking. More pale light fell through the window and picked out the wiry coarseness of his hair.
The entrance to the basement was in the kitchen. The kitchen was packed with people, all smelling of fur, a few of them with the cold silver smell Sophie was emitting now, too. One of them, a woman with so much eyeliner on she looked bruised, was perched on the counter next to the sink, turning a foil pie plate around in her clever little hands.
They all froze when Sophie appeared.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” the bruise-eyed woman with the pie pan said.
“I want to see Zach.” Sophie lifted her chin.
“That one can’t go with you.” The pie pan made a crinkling noise. “She’s too dominant. Timbo, where’s the sub-Carcajou?”
“Downstairs.” This was another eyeliner-painted girl, but without the authority of the one on the counter. “I’ll get him.”
The woman nodded. Something about her quick hands and her ringed eyes was oddly familiar, as well. “Be careful.”
“Brun will take you down,” Julia said in Sophie’s ear. There was a low thrumming sound from below the floor, and everyone in the room tensed again. “Anyone else would smell too dominant.”
“This is his mate?” A young man, a bear by the look of him, leaned against a door that must lead out to the backyard.
Mate? Sophie blinked. What?
“Yup.” Julia sounded proud. “Fell in love with her right away. That’s why he went and rescued her while you idiots were all running around in yapping circles.”
“Better put a leash on that girl’s mouth, shaman.” The raccoon-eyed woman on the counter rattled the pie pan. Her nose wrinkled. “She’s not making any friends.”
Somehow Sophie doubted making friends was high on Julia’s agenda. She decided to distract her. “Mate? Does that mean what I think it means?”
A ripple of amusement ran through the assembly just as the cellar door opened and Brun appeared.
He looked tired, and like he’d lost a few pounds. His clothes were disheveled and painted with dirt, and there was a massive, fantastic bruise up the side of his face. His hair hung lank and greasy, and his eyes were wet and red-rimmed.
But he brightened when he saw Sophie. “Oh, thank God.” The instant relief was kind of scary. What was even scarier was that she could smell it, through a wash of musk that was eerily familiar—and just as comforting as Julia’s scent.
“Hold her up.” Julia straightened, and Brun pushed through the crowded room. He looked even more thin and tired up close.
Sophie’s arm was over his shoulder in a trice. “He’s getting more and more upset.” Brun’s entire body vibrated nervously, trembling. “And it looks a little…well…”
“It’s okay.” Sophie gathered what little strength she had left. The burning in her bones was fading fast. Whatever Cullen had dosed her with, it was doing its job—but it was wearing off. “Just get me down there.”
“Okay.” Brun’s trembling eased. “Thank God you’re here. I was beginning to get worried.”
The crowd parted. How could so many people fit into one kitchen? Or did the smell of them make them seem bigger than they were?