Okay. If a big silly puppy can put a smile on our faces after a day like this, he’s here for a reason. And he’s staying.
Keen suddenly raised her head, and I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. Havoc slumbered on.
“Hayek,” Chris said, rising. When I pushed back my chair, he held up a hand. “Stay. Eat.”
Hayek was here for Peter, and I wanted to hear what he had to say. But Sam put her hand on my arm, so I gritted my teeth. And stayed.
Eating was another matter. When I noticed Josh picking at his coleslaw, I made a point of shoveling in a mouthful. By the time Chris and Hayek appeared in the kitchen, I’d managed to choke down a few.
“How is he?” I asked as soon as Hayek nodded me a greeting.
“Resting,” the doctor said, settling at the table. “I want him kept sedated for a few days. It’s for the best, right now.”
I knew “resting” was doc lingo for everything from near death to taking a nap, but I hadn’t really expected anything more. Hayek’s dark eyes roamed the table, scanned Josh, whose focus remained on his plate, and came to rest squarely on me. He reached out and shoved the plate of chicken my way.
“Eat,” he said.
Everyone wanted me to eat, when my best friend was . . . what? Frustration surged, and on its heels came anger. I glared at Hayek.
He was made of stern stuff, the doc. “Don’t give me that crap,” he said. “Until we get the test results, we have to assume you’ve been exposed to the same thing Josh and Peter have. Your body needs resources to fight this. So eat.”
I made no effort to calm down. “Fight it? How do we fight it? This isn’t your garden variety cold.”
Hayek helped himself to a chicken leg, taking a large bite before putting it on his plate. “You really have no idea, do you?” He glanced at Chris, who shrugged.
“Told him,” the enforcer said, grimacing as Josh heaped more coleslaw onto his plate. “But he’s likely forgotten. Hey, I’m not a rabbit.” This last was directed to Josh.
“Listen to the doc,” Josh said, adding a final spoonful.
Hayek locked eyes with me. “Your transition to wulf comes with fringe benefits.”
“Yeah, I know. Better health, longer life.” I swallowed. “In theory, anyway.”
“Regardless of what’s going on with this possible viral mutation, you are a wulf, now. And that means you are capable of fighting off most infections.”
The doc’s matter-of-fact tone helped ramp down my anger. “Are you saying my body might be able to fight this?”
Chris dropped a well-gnawed drumstick onto his plate. I noticed he had yet to touch the coleslaw. He offered, “It might be why your wulf doesn’t look like Dillon’s or the others. Maybe your body is fighting the mutant virus.”
I experienced the first stirrings of much needed hope, boosted when Sam’s leg brushed mine beneath the table. “Just how strong is this healing ability?”
“Pretty strong,” Hayek said. “Although we aren’t invincible. It tackles most cancers without breaking sweat. Some of the stronger influenza outbreaks have challenged it, but it pulled us through the Black Death with flying colors.”
I think my eyebrows had joined my hairline. “It cures cancer? And the plague?” I glanced at Chris. “So . . . Peter might be able to get over this?”
“If we can buy him enough time, that is my hope,” Hayek said. He rolled his eyes toward my plate. “But your bodies need sufficient resources to fight it. So . . . eat.”
I applied myself to the food with considerably more gusto, though I can’t say my appetite was up to the usual wulf standards. Peter remained the focus of my thoughts, which then drifted to the enforcer who watched over him.
As the conversation trailed off to nothing, I grabbed a clean plate and loaded it up. Sam’s steady gaze assessed me—but she didn’t attempt to follow. I told Keen to stay and headed out the door.
The waning crescent moon hung overhead as I walked to the barn. I couldn’t remember noticing when dusk had arrived, but it was already full dark. Garrett sat where we’d left him, staring at Peter’s still form. I noticed he was wearing surgical gloves, so he must have checked on the wulfan at least once. He looked at me and peeled them off when he saw the plate but didn’t take it from me.
“I appreciate the effort, but I’m not hungry.”
I snorted, making him look at me. “Apparently eating isn’t optional. Doctor’s orders.”
Garrett’s eyebrows lifted and for a moment I wondered if he’d debate who was in charge here, but he nodded, and a corner of his mouth twitched up. “Yeah. He’s right. We have to keep our strength up.” His eyes tracked toward Peter.
“This is not your fault, Garrett.” The words were out before I realized they were the reason I’d come out here. “We’re doing the best we can with a terrible situation. No one could have guessed that a walk in the backyard would end like this.”
He shook his head. “They were my responsibility, and I let them down.”
“You gave them respect, as adults. We’re all in the dark on this thing.”
I sensed his blue gaze survey me. “Can I ask you something?” When I nodded, he continued. “How are you doing, really? Is your wulf pushing the boundaries of your control?”
My heart pounded, but I appreciated his honest evaluation. And he had a right to ask the question. I thought of Dillon and looked away.
“My wulf is a new thing for me,” I said, struggling to describe the presence within that still seemed so foreign. “I haven’t got a normal to compare it to. Sometimes he’s there, wanting out. But so far, I’ve been able to control him.”
His gaze traced the lines of my face and seemed satisfied. “Whatever this is, you don’t appear to be
