238 Jack–Eye: Something’s Missing
238 Jack–Eye: Something’s Missing
“What happened?” I bark out, my long legs taking only a few strides to make it to her side, shoving Thom out of the way with sheer presence alone.
1
“Any questions?” I ask the newly arrived four, daring them to waste my time after twenty minutes of running through the situation at hand.
The situation’s dire and yet my hackles rise anyway at the attention he’s giving her.
The woman doesn’t flinch. Even her rainbow–colored hair seems limp. Her chest rises and falls, but too slow for my comfort.
The wizard’s red–faced and panting, his shirt so damp with sweat it’s nearly
transparent, and Lyre’s scent surrounds him. But the scent on him is full and normal, reminiscent of the times she’s given him magic.
“Familiarize yourselves,” I tell them, too distracted now. “Tell me if you need anything. Derek, I’ll introduce you to Owen later.”
So my eyes focus on the trembling wizard, realizing some of the sweat running down his face is actually his tears. “Explain.”
Fiddleback’s turned into a refugee sort of situation, and we still haven’t figured out the long–term logistics here.
“Sir?”
My focus narrows to the woman’s face, her lips pale and slightly parted and her skin lacking any sort of healthy flush whatsoever. As if she’s bled out, except there’s no apparent injury to be had.
you attacked?”
“Were you
Derek is a little older than I am, and while his mustache might make him look like some sort of predator against women, he’s also happily mated with four pups of varying ages.
As a whole, shifters are better known for their physical ability and less for the intellectual side of things. Not that we’re stupid–far from it–but too many of us have learned to rely on instinct and the other half of our souls. And wolves might be
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238 Jack–Eye: Something’s Missing
intelligent, but their intelligence is uniquely primed to survival, not thrival.
The moment I cross the threshold of our building, my eyes land on Lyre, collapsed onto a sofa and strangely pale. She’s unnaturally still and a human medic has his gloved hands all over her.
I lead them through the make–shift command center we’ve established on the main floor of what used to be Fiddleback’s alpha lodge. It was once decorated with class and flair, but now it’s piled high on every surface with plastic bags from the local grocery store and stacks of cheap throw blankets, along with unorganized clothes from a thrift store haul Owen managed before Lyre went back underground.
My heart kicks against my ribs, an unfamiliar panic rising. 1
doesn’t seem like she would faint like Thom. If I had But I’ve seen Lyre work before; sho to guess, she has enough magic in her to be unfathomably powerful. So why would she…?
My jaw tightens. Lyre hasn’t been using her magic at all, brushing us off whenever we try to ask questions. We all know she can’t use her magic, but not why.
“Understood, Beta,” the other three say in unison.
But it’s a little wrong.
JACK–EYE
Thom bites at his lip, probably sensing the darkness in my eyes, and continues with a calmer pace, “She said she found three more groups of survivors and marked the way, but then when we were on our way back, she fell. And now she won’t wake up.”
But I don’t wait for their acknowledgment, because I’m already moving toward the scent. My pace quickens with each step, that wrongness growing stronger. It’s Lyre but… strange, like a part of her scent is now missing. 1
I crouch beside the sofa, leaning in to sniff at her neck, frustrated by the wrongness of her scent. It’s definitely Lyre, but I can’t figure out what’s missing.
“Bring Owen here.” 1
He shakes his head a little, smacking at his cheeks with both hands as his glasses go askew. “I don’t know. S–She just collapsed. I’m–I’m not versed in healing magic, I don’t know what happened. There was no reception… I couldn’t just… I couldn’t leave her
238 Jack–Eye: Something’s Missing
there. I dragged her all the way back. She–She didn’t wake up…
Sam, the human medic who’s seen and dealt with far too much over the past few days, doesn’t even glance in my direction as he moves his stethoscope to another spot on her chest. “She’s unconscious. Blood pressure’s elevated, but no visible injuries. Lungs are clear, but her respiratory rate is a little low.”
“Take a deep breath.”
He nods, sucking one in and letting it out as he struggles to straighten his shoulders and meet my gaze. But his watery eyes keep turning back to her.
Between the rampant infections and having to rearrange people into homes based on medical need, a few medics who aren’t thrilled to be here, and two deaths, there’s far too much to handle with both Lyre and Thom disappearing into the underground to find more survivors.
“No, no. We found the, uh. She said it was the center room. She used her… her magic, but nothing happened in there.”
“The rest of you,” I continue, “we’ve got survivors with varying degrees of infection and physical trauma. We have food to make, laundry to wash, and deliveries to sort. Our medics are already stretched thin. These are survivors, so remember to treat them with care.”
My steps falter as I turn my head instinctively to its source. Derek almost collides against my back.
“You.” I jerk my chin in his direction. “You’re in charge of transporting the two children to Blue Mountain territory. Don’t get comfortable here. You leave as soon as Owen clears them for travel.”
Our new influx of Lycans is well–timed; with Owen babysitting the two young children Lyre’s become so concerned about, the others have become somewhat problematic.
He seems to know a hell of a lot more than we do.
“Got it, Beta.”
So why does Lyre herself smell so wrong?
I cross my arms, looking down at our reinforcements. They’ve been hand–selected by our illustrious king for their discretion and, more importantly, their ability to follow
238 Jack–Eye: Something’s Missing
basic fucking instructions.
Which is why most of our territories tend to struggle financially, though we’re also
remarkably self–sufficient.
“Yes, Beta.”
But Owen probably knows.
After introducing the new Lycans to some of the hospital staff we’ve forced into twenty–four–seven staffing on site, along with a few of the healthier survivors who’ve taken more of a leadership role, my nose twitches as a faint and familiar scent rides on
the air.
Four heads shake in perfect unison.
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