Chapter 37
Power slammed through me, and, I screamed. Well, not so much screamed as roared. I felt energy running through my spine like a waterfall; the overload of good was becoming worse than the beating. I staggered away from Marjorie's remains and nearly fell into Sinclair's coffin. I grabbed him and poured some of the new strength I had into him; it was either get rid of it or blow up.
Even as he stirred; grew younger, grew strong, sat up, it wasn't enough, I was still going to blow.
I stumbled away from Sinclair, kicked Marjorie's things (and probably a bit of old Marjorie, too, poor thing) out of the way, and reached for Antonia through the bars and poured more of it into her.
I was not entirely sure what I was doing and yet wasn't even shocked when Antonia screamed again, a scream that turned into a howl. She dropped to all fours, sprouted dark brown fur, and then an enraged werewolf was howling at the ceiling and tearing at the bars with her teeth.
No fair! I thought. You're not supposed to be allowed to do that. Rule breaker!
“Elizabeth!” Someone was shaking me. “Elizabeth! Whatever you're doing, stop it! It's too much, you're —”
Through blurred vision I saw Antonia-?the-?wolf tear through the bars with her teeth and wondered vaguely what the hell a werewolf's teeth were made of. Titanium? In no time at all she'd torn or pulled a big enough hole through the bars and wormed through, then attacked the other coffin with desperate savagery. The rosaries flew off, and she started to rip at the chains.
Getting some of my mind back, I began to help her. Well, by began I mean I flipped the coffin lid open as though the chains weren't there, stuck my hands inside, and poured everything I had onto the shriveled thing inside.
In a few seconds, Garrett was sitting up and looking around.
“Wow, I feel terrific! Um. What the hell just happened?” he asked, sounding quite un-?Garrett-?like.
Whoever had tried to shake me before—that would be Sinclair, right? Sure, I could see him now, it was Sinclair.
Hey, he looks good! I made him all right. That's nice. Now if I could just do something about this force inside of me that feels like it wants to split my skin. . .
“Elizabeth!” His eyes were wide with awe and fear. “Elizabeth, what are you doing?”
And I was still burning up, still exploding, there was still too much of whatever I had taken from Marjorie in me, on me, all over me, around me.
I had an idea, but I knew I only had a few moments of conscious thought left. So I leaned into Sinclair, making him wince with the touch, and whispered my instructions into his ear.
He nodded. “Yes, my Queen.”
“Hurry,” I finished, and then I collapsed to the ground, wreathed in flames.
Chapter 38
“—maybe we should—”
“—so glad to see all of—”
“—doctor wouldn't do any—”
“—hurt bad?”
I opened my eyes and bit back a shriek. Sinclair, Marc, Tina, and Garrett were all bending over me. I chased them all back with big arm motions and sat up. I saw at once we were in the hospital.
But had we gotten here in time?
“Where is she?” I managed. Then Sinclair's mouth was on mine, his arms were around me, and I sort of forgot about all the madness of the evening for a minute.
“Wait, wait!” I fended him off and looked around.
We were in the right room, I thought. But they all looked alike. “Did it work? Where is she?”
“It's so wonderful to see you're all right, Your Majesty!”
I smiled as I turned to Tina. “When did you two get here?”
“I got home an hour ago,” she said, the circles under her eyes even darker than usual. “Marc had just shown up, and then Sinclair called. Um. Why is Antonia a wolf?”
“You wouldn't believe it if I told you.”
“Elizabeth did it, right after she destroyed Marjorie. And nearly killed herself for her trouble.” Sinclair turned to me—well, really, he turned on me, like a wolverine. “Did you not hear me telling you to stay away?” he demanded, shaking me like a cheap Christmas present.
“Oh, stuff it in your socks, Sinclair. Like I was going to leave you in the clutches of the librarian from Hell. What a bitch .”
“You're sure you're okay?” Marc, being the doctor he was, began to prod my body.
“I—think so.” I felt all right. Almost normal. Normal for me, I meant. Gone was the frantic surge of energy I'd feared would consume me.
And from the way they were looking at me, they all knew it. Their expressions were equal parts awe and fear.
But what about. . .
“Well, I have to say, I haven't felt this good in quite some time,” Garrett said cheerfully. Since he usually spoke in monosyllables, this was going to take some getting used to. “Although I'm not sure what Antonia will say when she's back on two feet tomorrow morning.”
“Yeesh, don't give me something new to worry about. By the way, did you notice if the two guests in our house were still there? Are they okay?”
“Jeannie and Lara are fine,” Marc said. He was dressed in a shirt studded with big purple flowers, muddy khaki shorts, and sandals. “I made their acquaintance a bit abruptly in the bathroom; but we sorted it out as Tina arrived. After Sinclair called, it was clear the danger was pretty much over, so they opted to stay in the mansion.”
“Great. Now that we've accounted for everyone EXCEPT the person we came for, can someone please tell me where my best friend is!?!”
This got a couple of them smiling. Which got me steaming even hotter. Finally, Marc piped up. “Well, we got you here, and your boyfriend did what you told him to do. He dumped you right on top of Jessica, who until then was resting comfortably. By then, you weren't in flames anymore—but you were still giving off tons of heat and sweat. Seeing you roll back and forth on top of Jessica in her bed—well, I'll tell you. I almost turned heterosexual.”
“But the bed's empty now! Did it work? Is she okay?”
“Better than okay,” Tina said, smiling. She was flushed at Marc's description, but she managed to motion to the hallway. “After Detective Berry's initial shock, he saw what we were doing for Jessica and kept you on top of her. Once she was—once you were both okay—well, Jessica and Nick wanted to find some privacy, and we were all in the room, and you still looked like you needed the bed, and so—”
My jaw dropped in appalled outrage. “She's out getting some?”
“In a word,” Tina began.
“Yeppers,” Marc finished.
“Why that—that—”
“They're still somewhere in the hospital,” Sinclair gently corrected me.
As if on cue, Jessica and Nick burst into the room (well, burst through the slowly opening door), giggling and leaning on each other. She was still in her wrinkled hospital gown, and his shirt was decidedly untucked from his pants. No socks. No shoes.
“Well, that was—” She saw all of us waiting for her and clammed up.
“Short?” Marc volunteered.
