The only touch of personality was a Buddha statue on a wall-mounted shelf.
Okay: No danger present, an escape path plotted out, and residents noted. “Where’s your wife, Manny?”
“My wife? I don’t have a wife.”
“Girlfriend? Desert-marriage companion? Whatever you want to call it. A woman lives here with you.” The thought of an innocent civilian getting wrapped up in our mission sent a shiver of fear down my spine.
Manny’s face tightened. “How could you possibly know that?”
Because I can smell her? I thought, then went with, “Female intuition, Manny. This place has a woman’s touch.”
“Well, she lived here. She’s gone now.” Manny packed a lot of bitterness into two short sentences.
Yeah, why would anyone want to leave this bundle of laughs? I mentally rolled my eyes. Not your business, Luna; not your problem.
“Sorry, Manny,” said Mike. “We’re just worried about getting civilians involved. You sure she’s not coming back?”
“Positive.”
After an awkward pause, Manny said, “You two can use the master bedroom upstairs. It’s nice. It’s got a huge bathroom.”
At my look, he amended himself to, “Or you can split up and use the master and one of the other bedrooms.”
“We don’t want to kick you out of your bedroom,” said Mike. “We can take the spare rooms.”
Manny gestured at the stairs. “I have a lot of trouble with the stairs when my gout acts up. I haven’t been up there in weeks.”
Gout. So that’s what’s torturing him. I started thinking about spells to handle gout.
Manny shuffled over to the recliner and eased himself down. He pulled the lever to lift his legs up and leaned back with a sigh.
“I’ll just rest for a minute and… then I’ll make us some coff…” His eyes closed, and he dropped off to sleep.
I grabbed my pack and headed up the stairs, followed by Mike. We treaded lightly to avoid waking Manny.
Mike pointed to the master bedroom, then carried his pack to the smaller bedroom across the hallway. He set it down inside and returned to stand in the doorway of the master bedroom. His eyes drooped and he yawned widely.
“Orders, boss?”
“I think we need rest before anything else. I’m sorry, Mike—I got to doze in the car, but how long has it been since you slept?”
“We were up at zero-dark-thirty for the flight, followed by jumping out of an exploding plane,” he said with a calculating look. “That was the day before yesterday. So about thirty-six hours?”
“You need to rest.”
“Wait, no, I had that nap in the Garden of Eden. I can still go for—”
“Garden of Eden?” I interrupted. “What are you talking about?”
“That place you made in the desert. An oasis surrounded by desolation. Hell, you even planted an apple tree. Best rest I’ve had in years.”
He held his serious look for about ten seconds, then laughed so loud I had to shush him to avoid waking Manny downstairs.
“It wasn’t the Garden of Eden,” I said. “It was a short nap. And if you think I’m going to walk around in a fig leaf you’re got another think coming.”
“You in a fig leaf,” he chortled. “Don’t put that picture in my head.”
I gave him my ‘fun’s over’ look and said, “I’m going to shower and rest. Wake you up at noon?”
“Okay, boss.” He turned and went back to the spare bedroom.
The shower was great. I finally got to scrub off all the dust and dirt that my magic cleaning cloth had missed.
After drying off, I dug through my pack. I hadn’t packed PJs or nightgowns. This trip had started as a combat and rescue mission, and I hadn’t packed for this eventuality. Finally, I just pulled on a pair of panties.
I sniffed the bed. The sheets had recently been changed. Manny was right: the scent of his unnamed wife’s perfume was faint, and his own scent was fainter, indicating that neither of them had been here for weeks.
I really should meditate. But the cool sheets were too inviting. I set my wolf half to guard with a reminder to rouse us at eleven thirty, and slid into bed.
I dreamed of fig leaves. Dammit, Mike.
12
I woke at eleven thirty, used the bathroom, then looked over my sartorial choices once more. Not much to choose from. Khaki T-shirts, desert camouflage pants, and brown combat boots.
I pulled on my camo clothing, wishing I had something else to wear. But this was supposed to have been a drop in, fight, and fly out mission.
The dirty clothes were bundled up, ready to be either washed or thrown away.
I took a moment to shift the color of my finger- and toenails to match the khakis. Then I brushed my hair out until it was glossy and smooth. Even if I couldn’t dress up, I could still primp a bit.
I tapped on Mike’s door. The sound of him jumping from the bed was instantaneous. “Mike, it’s time to get moving.”
“Okay, I’ll be right down.”
Manny was still dozing in the recliner, curled into what should have been an uncomfortable position. I eased over on silent feet and stood behind him.
With one hand touching lightly each temple, I probed him with magic. So that’s what gout feels like. Manny had it bad. Tiny crystals of uric acid had precipitated in the synovial fluid of his joints, mostly his left big toe, ankle, and wrist. The irritation from the crystals was causing inflammation and pain.
So much pain. No wonder he was moody. I felt sorry for being short with him earlier. He had suffered greatly to come to our assistance.
I broke contact and stood behind Manny with my arms crossed. I was mulling over options when I noticed Mike watching.
I motioned for him to keep quiet while we went into the kitchen.
“I thought you couldn’t do anything unless he asked.”
“I wasn’t helping him; that was just a probe to check on his condition,” I said.
“Can you cure him?” asked Mike. “I think that would be more valuable to Manny than any amount
