Mara listened, but when he told her that her second blood test showed even more of a decrease in healthy cells than the first, her brain simply shut down. All she could think of was that she was getting worse.
“Mara? Mara? Are you listening to me?” Doctor Pendergast touched her arm and she flinched.
“Sorry. What?” She rubbed her eyes.
“I’m not giving up on this. Neither should you.”
He presented her with a treatment plan that involved weekly blood tests, transfusions whenever her red blood cell count dipped below a certain threshold, and a few supplements. He cleared her for work, but no more than forty hours a week. He tried to convince her to give up her daily swims, but she couldn’t possibly dream of it. She’d give up work and live on the streets before she’d give up swimming. She only felt truly healthy when she was in the water.
Three
After a week, Cade had trouble with complicated thoughts. He stopped trying to analyze the chain-link fence for weaknesses and started throwing himself against it when he could stand to touch the searing dirt. But all he got for his trouble was a body full of bruises, blisters, and singed fur where he hit the ground. Every step onto the dirt blistered his paws, but he had to keep trying. His pack needed him. Was she hurting them too? She’d killed Bill. He remembered his father’s beta falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. What of the rest of them? He heard Christine screaming in his nightmares, saw Liam’s wolf dodging the flames on the fire escape. Were they dead? Injured?
Katerina blasted him with the hose regularly. When the water fell on the scorched earth, billows of steam shot up and obscured his vision. The concrete pad was uneven and trapped enough water for him to drink when it didn’t rain. She always seemed to throw the cheap steak beyond the concrete so he’d have to venture to the dirt, but he did it every time. The meat was never fresh. Half-spoiled, slimy, and disgusting. The man trapped inside hated it. The wolf in control now didn’t care.
“Looking a little thin, dog,” Katerina said, taunting him. Cade looked back at his body. She was right. His fur was matted and burned. He felt hollow. He needed more food but she didn’t seem concerned with his comfort. He whined once, but then stopped himself. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Turning around, he curled up with his back to her.
“Ignore me if you want. It’s no skin off my back. Only yours.” A blast of fire hit his spine. Cade leapt up and yelped in pain. The burn slashed across his shoulder. He backed away to the far edge of the concrete as she cackled with laughter. “Jeremy!”
The earth elemental hurried out of the house. Cade sniffed the air. He caught the boy’s scent. It would have been pleasant under different circumstances: rich, strong soil, grassy and loamy, with a damp undertone. The boy had been the one to shoot him with the drugged dart. Cade growled. Katerina stepped close to Jeremy and kissed him on the cheek. “Do you want to be the one to tell him about his pack?” she asked sweetly.
Cade charged to the edge of the concrete. He growled as loudly as he could. Tell me what you did to them, you bitch!
Jeremy stepped close to the fence. “The old one died in the street. Pretty sure his neck was broken. Still, we burned his body to a crisp before we left. The rest never made it out of the building. I brought the whole thing down on top of their burned bodies. That was fun. It was the first significant earthquake recorded in Bellingham in thirty years. Amazing how it didn’t damage much else in town.”
Cade’s world crumbled and burned, mirroring Jeremy’s description of the apartment. He howled in pain. He bounded across the scorching ground, throwing his body against the fence. He had to reach Jeremy, had to tear him limb from limb. His pack. His pack was dead. He hit the ground with another howl as the blisters on his paws broke open. But he didn’t give up. Again and again he hit the fence, desperate. He didn’t care if he died trying to reach Jeremy and Katerina, as long as he took them down with him.
Eventually, his body gave out. Katerina blasted him with the hose, driving him back to the concrete. When he collapsed—burned, bruised, and spent—he whimpered until he passed out.
After a month, the wolf forgot his own name. He knew he had one, knew he was a man—a werewolf—but he couldn’t shift back. He couldn’t even remember why, he only knew he couldn’t. He kept trying, but the burning pain always stopped him. Days blurred together. Weeks, even months passed. The man would have gone insane trapped as he was, but the wolf was a creature of instinct. He wanted to survive, to escape, and to kill. Those simple thoughts kept him going.
The woman he hated—the dark-haired evil one—came out every few days and threw him a piece of half-rotted steak over the fence. His human mind tried to refuse the disgusting offering, needing the release of death, but the wolf wanted to live and so he ate the rancid meat. He grew weaker. The wolf spent the endless solitary days pacing the rectangular pad of concrete that protected him from the scorching earth. His body wasted away, but still he paced. It was all he could do.
September
Mara stretched out in the transfusion center’s hard reclining chair and gazed at the autmn leaves outside the window. Four and a half months after her first transfusion, she knew the routine well. Dressed in shorts and a tank top, she grimaced as the needle slid into her vein. It was a fat, thick needle and she hated it. She’d sit there for an hour, try to smile, and wait for the life-sustaining blood to replenish her weakened body. Before each transfusion, she’d donate a pint of her own blood for study. This served two purposes. It kept her blood volume relatively steady and allowed the University of Washington Medical Center staff to study her in the hopes that they could find a cure. Or at least a cause. In the first month, she’d needed one transfusion. The third month, two. Now she was up to a transfusion every ten or twelve days. She had an appointment with Doctor Pendergast immediately after this treatment and she was nervous.
Jen sat by her side. Jen knew Mara better than anyone. Sisters from the first year of college, they’d bonded over all-nighters and a shared love of red vines and cappuccino. Life had dampened their bond after college, keeping them both too busy to spend as much time together as they would’ve liked, but Mara’s illness had reconnected them. It had been Jen who’d gotten the call the first day Mara’s illness had left her unable to get out of bed, Jen who’d driven her to almost all of her transfusion appointments, and Jen who was on her DNR order.
Jen, Adam, Lisa, and Mara’s aunt Lillian took turns being with her for most of her doctor’s appointments. Mara appreciated the support, but sometimes she wanted her friends to treat her normally again, not like an invalid. She hadn’t been out barhopping in months. Mara didn’t have enough energy for it most of the time, but the few days after her transfusions she could manage a night out. Her friends refused her pleas, insisting on bringing DVDs over to her house or throwing small dinner parties where they’d always scheme to leave her with three or four meals worth of leftovers conveniently packaged and ready to go. She loved them for their concern, but she wanted to feel alive again.
“What do you say we go out to Zig Zag tonight?” Mara asked. Zig Zag was an eclectic little bar on the Pike Street Hill Climb. It had an extensive selection of premium liquors, fun tapas, and a great staff. “Maybe ride the Wheel first?”
“Adam bought all of the fixings for lasagna,” Jen replied without looking up from her magazine. “And he’s bringing over a movie.”
“No,” Mara said sharply. Jen’s brown eyes widened and her head snapped up. Mara scowled. “You all are treating me like I’m made of glass. I’m fucking sick of it!”
“Mara. Crap. Calm down.” Jen looked around, catching a few eyes of other patients and nurses who had turned to focus on them.
Mara lowered her voice. “I’m going to feel good tonight. Great even. I always feel great after a transfusion. I want to live, Jen. I’m tired of you all coddling me. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the meals and how you help take care of me when I fe
el like shit, but I’m thirty-one-years-old and single. I haven’t gone out on a date in more than a year or been out of the house past eight p.m. since May. One night. Drinks. Dinner. Maybe dancing. A bit of fun. Please.”
Jen looked into Mara’s eyes. Neither woman spoke for several minutes. Mara felt better by the second. Her skin warmed, her heartbeat strengthened, and her breathing steadied. She gripped Jen’s hand. “I need this.”
“Okay. You’re right. You’re not dead—” Jen slapped her hand over her mouth.
Mara chuckled and flashed a bright smile at her best friend. “No. I’m not. For the time being, I’m very much alive and I want to feel that way. Now can you go get me some form of caffeinated beverage? If we’re going out tonight, I need to front-load some coffee.”
Mara practically floated into Doctor Pendergast’s office later that day. A double almond milk cappuccino and a pint of blood full of life-sustaining healthy red blood cells made her feel terrific. Her cheeks glowed with color and the dark circles that surrounded her eyes were gone. She’d even managed some makeup after her swim. She flopped down in the chair across from the doctor’s desk and crossed her legs. Long fingers combed through her straight red hair. It always felt softer and smoother after a transfusion. “All right, Doctor. Whatever you have to say, say it quickly. I’ve got to finish my shift and then I’m going out tonight.”
“Feeling better then?” The doctor’s pale blue eyes crinkled at the edges, but his smile was sad.
“I feel great. I always do after a transfusion. I get at least three or four days of feeling normal. I plan on taking full advantage of them.”
“Mara, your last transfusion was only eleven days ago. The analysis of your blood taken this morning showed the most marked decrease in red blood cells yet. We’ll keep transfusing you, but pretty soon, we’re not going to be able to keep up.” His words hung heavy in the air. “If we can’t figure out how to stop the degradation . . .”
“I’m going to die.” All of Mara’s elation evaporated. The world seemed to slow and then stop. Her fingers trembled, as they always did when stress hit her. But today her hands became clammy. A hum gave birth to a clear series of tones that quickly crescendoed in her ears, drowning out everything else around her. Doctor Pendergast’s lined face hovered in front of her. His lips moved, but she didn’t hear anything but those confounded notes. It wasn’t a melody she’d heard before, no. It was a symphony of barely audible tones, a song that begged her to surrender to the music. A tear burned at the corner of her eye. What was happening? Was she losing her mind? As if dying wasn’t bad enough. The air took on a damp scent, her entire body strained against her own skin. Stop! Focus! She held up her hand. Swallowing hard and shaking her head to rid herself of whatever was going on with her hearing, she looked the doctor in the eyes. “How long?”
“Four months. Maybe five if we’re lucky. We’re not giving up, but you should . . . make arrangements. If you’ve ever wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, go skydiving, or take a cruise, now would be a good time.” Doctor Pendergast closed the folder with Mara’s test results. “I’m sorry.”
Mara didn’t cry. She’d known. She saw death all the time in the neonatal ward. Babies born prematurely, birth defects. They all had a way about them—as if their tiny souls knew they weren’t long for the world. Mara could sense it. She and her coworkers always knew when a baby was about to die. She hadn’t voiced it to anyone, but late at night when she was alone in her bed, her soul hurt. Death hovered outside her door, waiting for her to succumb to the inevitable. “Will the transfusions keep me functional for most of that time?” she asked quietly.
“Yes. At least through Christmas I’d say. After that . . . I can promise you that the end will be quick. When we can’t keep up with the degradation, it’ll be a day or two at the most. And it’ll be relatively painless. You’ll be too tired to get out of bed. Then too tired to stay awake. Then . . . it’ll be over.” Doctor Pendergast stood and came around to the other side of his desk. He knelt next to Mara’s chair and took her hand. “And I’ll promise you one other thing.”
“What?”
“You’ll spend the least amount of time possible in the hospital. We’re either going to solve this or we’re not. There’s no in-between. I won’t prolong your life unnecessarily unless you want me to.”
“Okay. Thank you. I’ll update my living will. Make it easy on everyone. But right now, I should go. I’ve got four hours left on my shift and then I’m going to go out drinking. I’ve barely touched alcohol in the past few months and Zig Zag has one of the best scotch selections in the city.”
Doctor Pendergast smiled. “That’s good. Get out and live. I want you back here in nine days this time. Agreed?”
Mara squeezed the doctor’s hand. “Agreed.”
Katerina paced the living room of the small house on Orcas Island. Autumn was fading into what promised to be a dreary and cold winter. The first few weeks of November had been nothing but rain, wind, and fog. It dampened her natural flame and weakened her. She missed Phoenix where her element burned bright and hot. Jeremy kept the fire in the bedroom stoked twenty-four hours a day and the sauna in the basement was well over one-twenty. It was the only way she could survive.
She played with the pendant that hung between her breasts. It had been her mother’s—the only memento she had of Kylie. For the first twelve years of her life she’d been happy. They weren’t rich, but they’d had a nice apartment, food on the table every night, and love. Her father played the guitar in the evenings, her mother sang her to sleep when she was frightened, and her baby sister, Mara, was Katerina’s whole world. After Mara’s birth, the four of them had six perfect months together. Their father, Phil, was building Mara a new crib. Kylie worked as a glassblower and made beautiful sculptures aided by her fire element.
Katerina had watched Caldwell Bowman kill her mother. Kylie had brought her into the desert that night to introduce her to her element. Katerina remembered the thrill of the elemental song filling her ears. A low-pitched melody, it had become a part of her that night and she’d spent the next few years desperately trying to recapture it. Without a mother to teach her, she’d struggled, and hadn’t worked her first successful charm until her twenty-first birthday.
Now, she was one of the most powerful fire elementals in the southwest—perhaps one of the strongest anywhere. She led a coven of twelve. Eight fire, three earth, and one air. Bella, who’d helped her and Jeremy capture Cade, was running Katerina’s occult shop, Flaming Objects, while Katerina was in the Pacific Northwest. The timid air elemental had been close to death when Katerina had found her in Mexico several years ago. Someone had done a number on the girl—beaten her within an inch of her life. Katerina didn’t know what it was about Bella that intrigued her, but she’d taken the young woman under her wing and helped her heal. Katerina never would have been able to leave Phoenix for so long without Bella’s help.
There were some things that even Bella couldn’t do. Ease Katerina’s homesickness. Replenish her elemental powers. Stop this fucking endless rain. It was time to kill the wolf and go home. She’d thought to torture him for a year, to make up for the twelve long months she’d spent enduring nearly weekly beatings, wearing rags, and fighting with the other eight to ten children in temporary care of her foster “mother.” Care. Like her foster mother cared about anything other than the checks she got for each of them. But a year was too long to stay away from Phoenix, from her coven, her chosen family. In Katerina’s vision months ago, she’d seen the wolf much as he was now—emaciated, feral, and weak. The new moon was coming up in two weeks. She’d do it then. He’d feel the most pain if she set his heart ablaze on the day he was the weakest.
The phone rang downstairs. Jeremy’s footsteps thudded up the stairs and he pushed into the bedroom with the phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s Bella.”
“What is it, sister?” Katerina asked. In the years she’d known Bella, the two had grown close. A de
ep sadness had taken hold of the air elemental, but she never talked about her past and Katerina rarely pushed.
“It’s Flaming Objects. The IRS is here and wants to talk to you. Two agents. They had warrants. I had to give them all of the books. They want to shut us down. I don’t know what to do. Please. You have to come back to Phoenix. For a day or two. Talk to them. There has to be some mistake.”
“Dammit. I don’t have time for this right now.” When Bella covered the phone and yelled at the agents in the store, Katerina took a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. I’ve been away too long. I wanted him to suffer for a year, but I can’t do it. I have to end this soon. The new moon is in two weeks. I’ll do it then.”
“We can’t wait two weeks. Come back now. They’re going to confiscate all of our inventory if you can’t show evidence of good faith. Jeremy can take care of your . . . business there for a couple of days. And we need you. I need you. It’s too hard for me alone. I’m scared.”
Two days. She could fly home tomorrow and be back here on Saturday. That should give her enough time to deal with the agents and lead a coven meeting. She joined online most weeks, but it wasn’t the same as being there in person. She missed her family.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll fix it. Stay out of the agents’ way and let the coven know that I will lead the meeting in person on Friday.”
A Shift in the Water Page 3
