barely sense it, like the well of power has been completely tapped out. Shifter magic is like a muscle -- the more you use it, the stronger it gets -- but my god, I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Getting my arms up over my head is enough of a challenge to my aching limbs, and I feel glued to my damp clothes, which aren’t exactly giving me an easy time. Wincing, I manage to pull my shirt off, and make the mistake of glancing in the mirror.
I look like a train wreck. My eyes are tired and bloodshot -- no doubt courtesy of sleeping on a motel room floor for the past few nights -- and my face looks gaunt and stressed. Worse, however, is the angry red mark that creeps up my left side, from my hip to just under my breasts. I don’t even remember getting injured, but the adrenaline of running from the Academy could have easily covered up the pain. In short, I look a mess, and I’m glad no one is here to witness my pathetic struggles. I’m supposed to be in charge here.
The bathroom is big, pristine, and the water runs hot from the shower head almost immediately. I’m grateful for that, and by the time I actually step into the large shower, I feel like I could practically fall asleep standing up. It’s only as the water rains down on me, washing away the dirt and muck, that the full extent of my injuries becomes clear: the impact from hitting the surface of the water must have really messed me up. I can only hope that I broke the surface tension in time for the others to avoid the same fate.
Closing my eyes, I let my forehead rest against the wall and breathe deeply for a few minutes, relishing the fact that we’ve made it this far. Still, I can feel the noose tightening, and no matter what Mollie says, we’re not going to be safe forever.
As for Edith… Maybe I just need to get to know her better, I reason. The dynamic has shifted with her around, but for better or worse, she helped make me what I am today, and I owe it to her not to shut her out just because she wasn’t at the Academy with the rest of us. It might take some time, but it’s not like we have anything better to do while we’re hiding out here. Resolving not to let my uncertain intuition muck things up, I’m able to start cleaning myself, luxuriating in the feeling of finally being able to relax.
By the time I step out of the shower, I’ve managed to steam up the entire bathroom, and end up having to wipe some of the fog away from the mirror so I can rake a comb through my tangled hair. It’s only after I do this that I realise with a muttered curse that none of my clothes are clean; they all went in with me, and I have no idea where Mollie keeps her spare stuff. Groaning, I look around, and chance upon a fluffy white bathrobe hanging from a hook on the door. Good enough. I cross the room and bundle myself in it, giving my hair a quick towel dry before I finally feel ready to be seen by other people again. Letting out a long breath, I straighten up and open the door, pausing for a moment to return to the cabinet above the sink and rummage a little. Bandages, ointment, rubbing alcohol… I grab a bottle of ibuprofen and take three tablets, hoping that will take the edge off the pain a little, along with a disposable ice pack, before padding out of the bathroom, my dirty clothes tucked under one arm.
It’s cold in the hallway, and I can’t help the goosebumps that break out on my arms as I return to the room Silas, Shade, and I are sharing. The bed is enormous, but I’m not under any illusions that the guys will want to sleep together, so we’re going to have to dig up some sleeping bags. Shade seems to be elsewhere in the house, and I feel alone enough with the door shut to open my robe and crack the ice pack, relishing in the relief it gives when I press it to the mark on my side. My eyes slide closed, and for a moment I forget where I