hung beside the fireplace. Mouse took note of it and gave Thomas a warning shake, his teeth sinking a tiny bit deeper. My brother didn’t quit reaching for the weapon, and I saw the tension gathering in the big dog’s body.
I came rushing back into myself all at once and said, weakly, “Thomas.”
He froze. Mouse cocked an ear toward me.
“Thomas,” I croaked. “Don’t. He’s protecting the girl.”
Thomas let out a gasping, pained sound. Then I saw him grimace and force himself to relax, to surrender. His body slowly eased away from its fighting tension, and he held up both hands palms out, and lifted his chin a little higher.
“Okay,” he rasped. “Okay. It’s okay now.”
“Show me your eyes,” I said.
He did. They were a shade of pale, pale grey, with only flecks of reflective hunger dancing through them.
I grunted. “Mouse.”
Mouse backed off slowly, gradually easing the pressure of his jaws, gently taking his teeth out of Thomas’s throat. He took a pair of steps back and then sat down, head lowered to a fighting crouch that kept his own throat covered. He kept facing Thomas, made no sound, and didn’t move. It looked odd and eerie on the big dog.
“Can’t stay here,” Thomas said. The bite wounds in his throat looked swollen, angry. Their edges were slightly blackened, as if the dog’s teeth had been red-hot. “Not with her like that.” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”
I looked at Molly, who was curled into a fetal position and shaking, still breathing hard.
“Get out,” I said.
“How will you—”
“Thomas,” I said, and my voice was slightly stronger, hot with anger. “You could have hurt Molly. You could have killed her. My only defense is down here babysitting you instead of standing guard. Get out. You’re no good to me like this.”
Mouse let out another warning growl.
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said again. “I’m sorry.”
Then he eased around Mouse and departed, his feet making little sound as he went up the stairs.
I sat there for a moment, hurting in practically every sense. My entire body tingled with unpleasant pinpricks, as though it had gone to sleep and was only now feeling the return of circulation. The soulfire. I must have pushed too much of it through me. Terror- adrenaline must have kept me rolling for a little while, but after that, I’d collapsed into pure passivity.
Terror on behalf of my brother and Molly had given me back my voice, my will, but it might not last. It hurt to sit upright. It hurt to breathe. Moving anything hurt, and not moving anything hurt.
So, I supposed, I might as well be moving.
I tried to get up, but my left leg wasn’t having any of it, and I was lucky not to end up on the floor. Without being told, Mouse got up and hurried into my room. I heard some heavy thumping as he rustled around under my bed, which had required him to lift it onto his massive shoulders. He came out a moment later, carrying one of my crutches, left over from injuries past, in his teeth.
“Who’s a good dog?” I said.
He wagged his tail at me and went back for the other one. Once I had them both, I was able to get up and gimp my way over to the kitchen. Tylenol 3 is good stuff, but it is also illegal stuff to have without a prescription if you aren’t Canadian, so it was currently buried in my godmother’s insane garden. I took a big dose of Tylenol the original, since I didn’t have my Tylenol 3 or its lesser-known, short-lived cousin, Tylenol Two: The Pain Strikes Back.
I realized that I was telling Mouse all of this out loud as I thought it, which had the potential to become awkward if it should become a habit. Once that was done, and I’d drunk a third glass of water, I moved over to Molly and checked her pulse. It was steady. Her breathing had slowed. Her eyes were slightly open and unfocused.
I muttered under my breath. The damned girl was going to get herself killed. This was the second time she’d come very close to being fed upon by a vampire, though admittedly the first had been in a vicarious fashion. Still, it couldn’t be good for her to be hit with it again. And if Thomas had actually begun to feed on her, there was no telling what it might do to her.
“Molly,” I said. Then louder, “Molly!”
She drew