and snarled at me again. Firmly, I said, “No. You. Come with me.” I backed steadily to the ladder. FireWind looked back to the wax. “No!” I commanded. “Come!” The big dog dropped his head and padded to me. “There’s something wrong with your brain. Shift. Right now. As soon as you start, I’ll go find clothes. You need to be in human form.”
I started down the ladder and paused with my head above the opening. FireWind padded the rest of the way to me and leaned in until we were nose to nose. He breathed in my scent. I breathed in his. “If you snort right now? I’ll be ticked.”
FireWind’s eyes sparkled with mischievous delight, but he didn’t snort, and he was clearly back under control. He lay down atop the trail of Soulwood soil and breathed out slowly. The now-familiar silver mist rose from his fur and I went down to the barn proper. Luckily, his clothes were again in my car, in his gobag. I carried the bag and his shoes back to the barn and up the ladder. I could feel the magic tingling on my skin as I reached a hand up over my head and deposited the shoes, and then the bag, before going back down.
In the office, Pacillo was still passed out half under the table. I really, really needed a cup of coffee. Which I was not going to get from the contaminated coffeemaker.
* * *
* * *
FireWind was fully clothed and his hair rebraided when he climbed down the ladder and entered the office. He looked at me, at the camera parts, which I had placed into evidence bags, the used gloves, the laptop, my paper chart, my gobag, a half-completed chain of custody, and the potted tree. “Why are you carrying the plant?”
“To eat bad guys.”
FireWind shoved Pacillo all the way over and made sure he was on his side in case the man threw up. With a breath that sounded like a tired sigh, he sat across from me and dug through his gobag for his snacks. I figured that meant he was done with the plant Q and A.
I pulled the last of my homemade protein bars out of my bag and placed them on the table between us. I wasn’t sure why, but FireWind smiled when he accepted the last fish-flake bar and the last salmon jerky strip. In return he handed me the null pens that T. Laine had woven into his dog fur. I took them all into my hands and the pain of my fingers eased a little. He glanced at the coffeemaker, reading the sign. “Contaminated?”
“The coffeemaker, a few other things in here, the camera that was mounted directly below the dark wax that sucked you in, and the hay and water in that stall.” I pointed to the stud stall. “It’s closest to the bench upstairs.”
“Someone put the death and decay into his feed?” FireWind asked, too softly.
“I think so.”
He looked away, though I had a feeling he wasn’t really seeing anything. When he looked back to me he said, “Your hands look bad.”
“My hands are bad. Sitting in the null room with you helped, but I need time sitting with my hands and feet in Soulwood soil.”
“Will you heal?”
“Probably.” If I don’t become a tree first, but I didn’t say that. Half of becoming an adult, for me, had been learning when to keep my mouth shut. The other half had been learning how to shoot a gun, defend against my attackers, and say what was on my mind. I was aware of the contradictions. “The null room should be available again at dawn. I don’t really want to go in with a dead woman and a decomposing horse.”
FireWind smiled again, leaned over, and lightly pinched my thumb, lifting my hand from the table with his index and thumb, as if inspecting something dead. “I think we can’t wait.” He dropped my hand. “Come.”
I said, “Are you ordering me around like a dog because I ordered you around like a dog?” FireWind’s rare laughter echoed through the barn. He stood, picked up Pacillo and tossed him over a shoulder as if the man weighed nothing, and walked away. It was . . . impressive. I gathered up my things and followed. “Hey, FireWind. Do you have the scent of the creator of the death and decay?”
“I’m not certain,” he said over Pacillo’s rump. “I have the scent of the person who