Magic and Loss

hand.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” he whispered hoarsely, clumsily wiping away my tears with his left hand. “It’s going to be okay.” Cradling his ruined hand to his chest, he turned to face his tormentor. “I don’t care what you have planned for me, Marz—but leave her out of this. She’s done you no harm.”

“I would beg to differ,” Boss Marz replied sourly. “That accursed mechanical cat of hers cost me an excellent lieutenant. But there’s no need for you to plead for the nump’s life. I don’t want either of you dead, Serenity. Seeing you reduced to using your left hand to survive is far more satisfying to me than watching your blood dry on the floor. But I warn you: should you breathe a word of this to the authorities, I’ll make sure your loved ones pay the price, starting with Her Majesty. And I won’t stop there: the centaur Kidron and his mare; the kitchen-witch Lafo; that runaway bastet, Lukas, as well as the old were-tiger Mao and his cub—each and every one of them will die because of you. And do not think my reach is limited to Golgotham,” he said, flashing me a nasty grin. “It would be quite gauche if your mother began to vomit venomous snakes in the middle of a garden party, don’t you agree? And just imagine the headlines should your father and his yacht be attacked by a kraken! And it’s always so sad when newlyweds like your nump friends come to an early, tragic end. And then there’s the matter of your dog. . . .”

“That’s enough! Stop threatening her!” Hexe growled, grimacing in pain. “You’ve made your point, Marz!”

“I’m glad we’ve reached an understanding. Bonzo, please show our guests out.”

The squirrel-monkey jumped off its master’s shoulder, transforming into its demonic aspect in midleap. As Bonzo reached for us, Hexe staggered to his feet, valiantly putting himself between me and the hell-ape. With a hideous shriek, the familiar swept us up in its shaggy arms as if we were dolls and disappeared in a cloud of brimstone.

Suddenly I was tumbling through darkness, my ears echoing with the distorted screams of an angry ape. Although I could see nothing in the void, I felt Hexe’s arms wrapped about me. I returned his embrace, hanging on for dear life. Then the next thing I knew, I was dumped on the street outside the locked gates of one of the piers that jutted out into the East River. Hexe was lying on the pavement next to me, his face drawn and pale. He cradled his damaged hand close to his chest, as if protecting a small, wounded animal.

“We’ve got to get you to Golgotham General,” I said as I helped him back onto his feet.

“No,” he said with an emphatic shake of his head. “They’ll ask questions. Take me to Dr. Mao.”

Chapter 8

Dr. Mao’s Apothecary and Acupuncture Parlor was located on the bleeding edge between Golgotham and Chinatown. By the time we arrived, Hexe was barely able to walk and I was genuinely terrified that he would collapse on the street and I wouldn’t be able to get him back on his feet. I banged on the front door so hard that the SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED placard nearly flipped itself back over.

The door opened the length of its security chain and a feline eye peered out. “Can’t you read?” Lukas growled, his face an intimidating admixture of puma and human. Upon recognizing us, he resumed his usual boyish appearance. “What are you two doing here?” he asked in surprise.

“Open up, Lukas,” I said urgently. “Hexe has been hurt.”

The young were-cougar threw open the door and helped me escort the near-unconscious warlock over the threshold. “Bast’s eyes!” he gasped upon seeing Hexe’s damaged hand. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” I said tersely. “Just fetch Dr. Mao.”

“What’s going on out there?” the old were-tiger asked sharply, stepping out from behind the curtain that separated his family’s living quarters from the shop. He had shed his traditional black Mandarin jacket and was dressed in a damask robe covered with embroidered phoenixes. “Why did you open the door? You know I don’t see patients after hours. . . .”

“There’s been an accident, Doc,” I explained. “Hexe told me to bring him here.”

“Take him into the parlor,” Dr. Mao said, pointing to an alcove at the far end of the shop that was partially hidden by an elaborate lacquered screen.

Where the apothecary resembled a traditional Chinese herbalist shop, with jars and cases filled with dried caterpillars and sliced deer antler, the acupuncture parlor looked more like a doctor’s examination room, complete with stainless-steel exam table. As Lukas and I lifted Hexe onto it, his eyelids fluttered and he groaned in pain.

Dr. Mao winced as he saw Hexe’s hand. “Go fetch Meikei,” he told Lukas. “I’m going to need her help.”

Upon hearing his friend’s voice, Hexe opened his eyes and attempted to sit up, only to have Dr. Mao push him back down. “Lie still, Serenity,” he said gently. “I must assess your wounds.” As the were-tiger attempted to examine Hexe’s fingers, he gasped like a drowning man coming up for air and his golden eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Where’s Tate?” he rasped.

“I’m right here,” I said as I grabbed his uninjured left hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. His eyeballs abruptly dropped back down like the reels in a slot machine. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

He flashed me a wan smile before turning his attention to Dr. Mao. “How bad is it, Doc?”

“You need a boneknitter, not an acupuncturist,” the old healer replied matter-of-factly.

Hexe shook his head. “A boneknitter would be worse than useless. It’s a witch-hammer injury.”

“Who did this?” Dr. Mao demanded, his head suddenly replaced by that of a snarling tiger. Although I knew he meant me no harm, I instinctively recoiled in fear at the sight of his razor-sharp teeth and flashing amber eyes. “It was Marz, wasn’t it?” Mao growled, his stripes once more fading back into his skin. “I may be old, but I’m no fool.”

“Yes, it was Boss Marz,” Hexe replied grudgingly. “But you can’t tell anyone what you know, Doc. Marz has threatened to kill our families and friends—including you and Meikei—if we talk.”

“I understand,” Mao sighed. “But how did the Maladanti get their hands on a witch-hammer?”

“They stole a collection of Witchfinder implements from the Museum of Supernatural History,” I explained. “The Curator was talking about the theft when I was there with Canterbury earlier this week.”

“I’m not surprised that the Maladanti would stoop to such tactics,” Mao grunted as he took out a black and red lacquer box from a nearby medicine cabinet. “Have no fear, you have my silence on the matter.”

Meikei, dressed in a housecoat, entered the parlor. “What’s going on? Lukas said something about an emergency—” She froze upon seeing Hexe lying on the exam table, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Don’t just stand there gawping at the patient, girl!” Mao snapped. “I need you to compound some Chin Koo Tieh Shang Wan while I block his nerves. You know the formulation?”

“Pseudoginseng, dragon’s blood, Angelica root, myrrh, and safflower,” Meikei replied, quickly regaining her composure under her father’s quizzing.

“That’s my girl,” Mao said, with a proud smile. “Now go make pills.”

Lukas moved to follow Meikei into the apothecary, but Dr. Mao shook his head. “You stay here, boy,” he said sternly. “My daughter can run the pill mill by herself. I need you to hold him down when I insert the needles.”

The young were-cat nodded his understanding and laid his arm across Hexe’s shoulders, pinning him to the exam table.

The healer scowled down at his friend’s hand, which now resembled an overfilled hot-water bottle, the fingers jutting from it at unnatural angles. “I wish I could lie and tell you this isn’t going to hurt,” he said apologetically.

“I understand,” Hexe rasped, clenching his jaw. “Go ahead and do it.”

Dr. Mao flipped open the lid of the lacquer box, revealing rows upon rows of golden acupuncture needles ranging from near-microscopic to something you could knit with. As he inserted the first of them into the fractured right hand, Hexe’s body jerked and bowed, as if undergoing electroshock, and then suddenly went limp.

“Don’t worry, he’s still alive. He’s just fainted, that’s all. It is better he not be awake for this, anyway,” the were-tiger explained. Seeing the worried look on my face, he gave me a reassuring smile. “You got him this far,