It was the best water I’d had in years.
Finally, able to croak out a few words, I asked, “How’s Alisha?”
“She’s stable,” said Dad. Crap. When Dad says ‘stable’ in that tone, things are bad.
“She’s in an induced coma,” Dad continued. “The damage was severe.”
“Don’t worry about her,” said Mom. “You just worry about you getting better.”
“Mom, I’ll be out of here by the end of the day,” I said. “Don’t worry about me. How are the others?” Sudden anxiety made my heart skip a beat. “Are the cubs all right?”
“The cubs are fine. They always have at least two werewolf guards with them, as well as that stinky fairy woman.”
“Chrysoberyl is here?” I ignored the ‘stinky woman’ comment. All Fae smelled bad to werewolves.
“Yes,” Mom sniffed. “She says the children need someone from their side of the family around.”
My heart relaxed. With a contingent of werewolf guards and Mason’s sister, Chrysoberyl, there, the kids were as safe as possible.
“I can’t wait to see them,” I said.
“Now that you’re awake, I’ll bring them for a visit tomorrow.”
“I miss them so much.”
“They miss you, too. Faith always looks around for you and Ira fusses more when you’re not there.”
“How about the others?”
“Logan is, is… is fine. Physically,” said Mom. “Mentally, he’s in a state. His ex-wife showed up and has been blaming him for everything that happened to Alisha.
“Mike and the British guy are all right; minor contusions and scrapes. They’ll be fine.”
“Now that you’re awake,” said Dad, “we’re going to disconnect the IV and the catheter.”
In thirty minutes, I was unplugged from everything and sitting up in bed. Dad pulled the bandages off of my head and I winced as hair pulled away with the bandages.
It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the bright light, but I finally brought the room into focus.
“This is one of the VIP rooms,” I said. “These should be for the paying customers, not werewolves with minor scratches. People pay a lot of money for these rooms.”
“You own the hospital,” snapped Mom. “You’re the biggest VIP here.”
“How’s your vision?” asked Dad.
“Still a bit blurred,” I admitted.
“Double vision?” he asked with concern.
“No, more like color blindness. It’s hard to describe.”
Mom was stroking my cheek, concern in her eyes.
“Mom, quit hovering,” I said. “I’ve recovered from worse. A few hours and I’ll be ready to be discharged.”
Mom looked abashed. “You haven’t needed me since you were a teenager. Let me enjoy this moment.”
“Mph,” I grunted, but let her comb what was left of my hair. It felt good to have her near, no matter how often we butted heads.
“Mom, I’m really hungry. Could you ask them to prepare me a meal? Something with a lot of protein?”
“Of course, dear.”
After Mom left, I tugged my ear, our sign to set up a soundproof bubble. Dad seemed surprised I didn’t do it myself, but invoked the spell.
“How bad is it?” he asked, getting right to the point.
“It’s not color blindness,” I said. “I can’t see magic anymore. When I reach for a spell, all I get is a headache.”
Dad frowned, then asked, “How much energy did you channel?”
“About fifty kilos of exploding C-4,” I said. “Wait, about half of that was used to destroy the embassy. The rest I channeled to power the portal. I have a vague memory of diverting the excess energy up into the sky.”
“That must be why your team didn’t get killed. You diverted the blast, but you were so close you caught part of the explosion.” Dad whistled. “It’s a miracle you survived. I burned myself out once, trying to channel the power in a lightning bolt for a healing. It took me over ten years to recover.”
“I don’t have ten years! I need to recover quicker.”
“Give it time. Werewolves heal much more quickly than magicians.”
“So, it might take years instead of decades? That’s still much too long.”
Mom arrived with a loaded tray and I ate for the first time in days. Normally, after channeling that much magic on top of a metabolic speedup, I would be ravenous. Instead, my worry about Alisha and what still needed to be done made the food taste flat.
Later that day, I returned home from the hospital. After the battles in Saudi Arabia, the domestic chaos of two small babies was a relief.
It was Mike’s guard shift the next morning, so I invited him in for coffee.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and stuck it to the refrigerator with a magnet.
“This is our guard schedule for the next week,” he said. “I’ve got the day shift and your werewolf pack rotates through the afternoon shift. Manny volunteered for the night shift.”
“Mike, I really don’t need a bunch of guards here.”
“We’ve discussed this. Remember, it’s not just you we’re guarding. The children are vulnerable. With all the noise about the siege of the British Embassy, we don’t know if attackers may attempt to get to you or the kids.”
“I thought Ashton covered it up with that story about us illegally filming scenes near the British Embassy for his next movie.”
“That’s a cover story, but it’s a crappy one. The idea that a movie could cause the siege of an embassy and a breakdown in relations between two countries is simply unbelievable.”
“Crappy or not, it’s the story we ran with.”
Mike accepted the coffee I handed him, sniffed deeply, and took a sip. Then he made a face and gulped down half the cup as if it was medicine.
“With me as the day shift guard, we can go and visit Alisha at the hospital while your dad is there.” He frowned at my automatic head shake. “You know, so you can help her like you did with me?”
“I can’t do anything for Alisha.”
“What? That doesn’t make any—” Mike’s eyes narrowed. “The coffee tastes bad, and now you say you can’t help Alisha. Is there something wrong with your magic?”
It irked me to be found out so easily by a human. On the other hand, it would
