“But you are on through the next full moon, puppy. So I suggest you get your ass to bed.”
Bruce wanted to help Laddin out. The guy was defending him, after all. But Wulf, Inc. was a quasimilitary organization. Laddin needed to understand chain of command if he was going to work inside its ranks, and Bruce wouldn’t do him any favors by interfering with that lesson. Though he did give Laddin a smile.
“I’ll be fine. And he’s right—you’re dead on your feet.”
Laddin gave in because he was smart enough to realize he wasn’t going to win, but he still shot Nero an angry look. Then he turned back to Bruce. “Fine. Check out Wulfric, but don’t take too long. I’m still your trainer, and we’ve got things to work out.”
“Roger that,” Bruce answered. There was nothing like being the new guy who got ordered around by everybody. He even knew that Laddin was doing it out of concern, but it had been a long time since he’d been the probie everybody pushed around. He hadn’t liked it then, and he didn’t appreciate it now, but he knew enough to let it go, so he headed toward Wulfric’s room.
What he saw when he stepped into the bedroom stopped him cold. If this was what Nero called “healed,” then Wulf, Inc. was in desperate need of medical personnel. And people with eyes.
Wulfric lay on his bed, barely moving. His long legs stretched out beneath a thin blanket, his sunken chest barely moved, and his face still looked as if it had been used as a basketball in an NBA game.
Then Nero stepped into the room and suddenly Bruce’s vision went wonky. Superimposed over that very ill man on the bed was the exact same guy, only healthy and vibrant. His eyes sparkled, his skin looked golden brown, and his face was movie-worthy for rugged man-of-adventure roles. And it was all a total illusion.
“This is Bruce Collier,” Nero said. “He helped us get you into the house. Feel free to beat the crap out of him for me if you like. I can make you something better for lunch while you do it. Want a steak?” He gestured to the uneaten sandwich on a tray by the bed.
Bruce stared at Nero and realized the man didn’t see the truth beneath the illusion. Wulfric wasn’t up to beating up an egg, much less a man. And he couldn’t eat a sandwich, steak, or anything that required chewing. His face was too swollen for that.
“No, thanks,” Wulfric said, his voice weak. “I’m not hungry.”
Nero frowned. “You don’t sound so good. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m doing fine—”
“But I could use some bone broth,” Bruce interrupted. “Or a smoothie. Even a sports drink would be great. And bring a straw, please. It’s the only way I can get it down.” He flashed Nero a weak smile. “It’s been a hard couple days, and my stomach is still feeling unsettled.”
Nero gave him a hard glare, but Bruce didn’t flinch. Then, because he was feeling pissy, he added an extra kicker.
“Laddin will never forgive you if you let me pass out from low blood sugar. And unless I miss my guess, you really need to make nice with the only paramedic around.”
He watched the muscle in Nero’s jaw twitch. The man didn’t like taking orders from anyone, but he didn’t argue, especially when Wulfric chimed in.
“That sounds delicious. Would you mind getting one for me too?”
Nero might tell Bruce to go get his own fucking drink, but he wouldn’t say that to Wulfric. So he gave his boss a clipped nod and stepped out. Bruce thought he’d slam the bedroom door, but he wasn’t that petty. Nero probably knew something was off with Wulfric, but he didn’t want to call out the mystical head of Wulf, Inc.
Bruce didn’t have that problem. He stepped closer to the bed and peered at the man’s bloody face. “You’re a mess, and they can’t clean it unless they can see it.”
Wulfric’s gaze shifted to Bruce. “I thought you might be able to see through the glamour.”
“The what?”
“Fairy glamour. It puts out an illusion that most people can’t see through.”
Oh right. Nero had mentioned that when they’d first arrived in the barn. They’d done something then to dispel the illusion, but obviously it had worn off because no one but Bruce could see the truth.
“So even magical people can’t see through it?” Bruce asked. Laddin had said that paranormal folks could see fairies, so a powerful werewolf like Nero should have been able to see through a fairy glamour.
Wulfric’s lip twitched up. “I see your brother isn’t the only smart one in the family. Let’s just say that this is an extra-strong glamour.”
That explained why Nero couldn’t see through it, but not why Wulfric felt he had to keep up the illusion in the first place. Thinking he might as well get started, Bruce went into the bathroom and filled a basin with water. The first step was to clean out the wounds. Then he’d see what mess was underneath.
“I thought that cleric woman healed you,” he said as he came out with washcloth and basin. There was a basic first-aid kit by the bed, but it was nearly empty. He’d have to send someone for the full med kit, if there even was one.
“She did, but all magic requires belief,” Wulfric answered. “You should remember that.”
He would. “She looked like someone who believed.”
“She does. I don’t.”
Bruce paused just before dabbing at Wulfric’s face. “You don’t believe in magic?”
“Not really.”
“Aren’t you over two hundred years old? And a werewolf who uses a fairy glamour?”
Again, the guy’s lips twitched. “Irony is one of the few joys left to me.” And while Bruce stared at him, Wulfric’s shoulder lifted in a weak shrug. “They believe, and so the glamour gets stronger when they’re here. They want me healed,
