And I could feel him in my head, just as he should be.
10
I WOKE UP, AND MY FIRST THOUGHT WAS SURPRISE that I was so sore.
Then I remembered the huge fae who'd knocked me silly.
In the wake of my home burning down and Adam getting hurt, the encounter with the fae in the bookstore had become incidental.
There was a goose-egg- sized knot on the back of my head, nothing wanted to move very much, and my ankles--both of them--ached.
Sam was snoring, something he actually didn't do very often.
He was stretched out across my feet, which couldn't have been very comfortable for him, though he seemed happy enough.
He must have felt my attention because he rolled onto his back and stretched--an instant of half wakefulness that ended with him going back to snoring.
Adam was still sleeping like the dead, as he had for most of the night--except when he woke up coughing blood tinged gray with smoke particles.
Sometime during the night, he'd rolled away from me, and now he slept on his side.
I ran a hand over his shoulder blade and he moved into my touch without waking up.
"Hey," I told him.
"I love you." He didn't answer, but I didn't need one--I knew how he felt.
Only after I rolled painfully off the edge of the bed did it occur to me that Ben was missing.
A glance out the window told me it was still morning, not early, but not late enough to make me feel like a slugabed either.
I limped stiffly to the bathroom.
One hot shower later I could move again.
And even if my clothes were on their second day--and smelled of blood and smoke and all--I felt ready to face the morning.
After a little dithering, I put my shoulder holster back on.
I didn't feel any urgent need to go armed--but I didn't have anywhere to put the SIG out of harm's way either.
Adam probably had a gun safe around somewhere, but I didn't know where it was.
So I wore the shoulder harness under my T- shirt, which was loose enough to conceal it.
I'd have a hard time drawing the gun, but that shouldn't matter: it was loaded with lead bullets, and the house was full of werewolves.
If I had to draw the gun, I was probably dead anyway.
On that cheery thought, I left the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me.
The lovely smell of sausage and butter pulled me into the kitchen.
Darryl was cooking.
Auriele grinned at my expression.
"Sundays," she said with satisfaction, "he cooks, and I wash dishes.