Page 61 of Raven

"She's going to be okay," Sue said, coming to stand beside me.

I shook my head, my throat tight. "How the hell is this okay? I don't ... What the hell did they do? What ... I just ..."

Sue put her hand on mine, her touch warm and comforting against my trembling fingers. "They beat her with silver. She'll be fine and she'll recover. The doctor says it's worse than it looks, and she's strong. They gave her some Lycanthrocyte. It should help with the healing. It's just going to be slow because of the silver."

Lycanthrocyte was the medication they gave shifters if we needed to give our natural enhanced abilities a jump start. For my mother, it'd be given to boost the healing process. Shifting was always the best healer, but when we couldn't—which wasusually down to something with silver—then we needed a kick. The drug amplified our already impressive regenerative powers, knitting together torn flesh and mending broken bones at an accelerated rate.

"How did she get here? You said she was in Speake? That's a good bus ride away ..." And there was no way anyone found her there by accident. The only people in Speake were humans, and this is what they did if a shifter found themselves in that territory. It was a no-shifter zone to the tenth level. Not only were we banned from the area, they were not afraid to shoot on sight. It was why I'd been shoved in the police cells there. Because it was the humans' favourite game. Hunt the shifter. Fuckers. Oh, I bet they'd taken so much pleasure when they'd beaten my mother. I bet there were many of them. One on one, silver or not, they'd be no match for her. But they knew what they were doing. They'd have incapacitated her first and then attacked, because humans were fucking cowards.

"She got herself here," Sue said, her voice laced with guilt. "She collapsed at the main doors. They brought her in a few hours ago. I'm sorry. I should have come and got you. I ... We sent Trixie out, but then you know what she's like. It was my fault. I just didn't want to leave your mother and I ..."

My turn to comfort Sue. "It's okay. She's fine." I pushed my mother's dark hair back from her face, trying not to touch anywhere where she was bruised or injured, which was pretty damn hard because her entire face was a mess. Her usually smooth skin was a canvas of purple and blue, swollen and distorted. I ran my fingers gently down her shoulders, down her arm and then paused and sucked in a breath. Someone had stood on her arm. No. Not stood, stomped. A boot print was neatly embedded in her flesh, the skin mottled and torn. Someone had been wearing silver-plated boots when they'ddone this. The thought made my blood boil, a growl building in the back of my throat.

"They said you can stay as long as you need to. They aren't going to throw you out."

I nodded, grabbing a chair and pulling it to the side of my mother's bed. The metal legs scraped against the floor, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "I can't believe she went to Speake. I ..." I slid my hand down to hers, careful of the IV lines and bruises. Her skin felt cool and papery beneath my touch. "What the hell were you thinking?"

This was my fault. All my fault. If I'd left those humans alone, and not got involved. If I'd have just gone home ... but then what would they have done to Tia?

This was the humans. It was the humans and all their stupid rules. I hoped one day there was an uprising. The thought of retribution, of justice, burnt in my chest. One day, we'd show them. One day, they'd learn what it meant to fear the night, to cower before the strength of the shifters they so carelessly abused.

Malcolm's son, Stephen, talked about that so much. I didn't hang out with him and Cade often, but when I did, this was one of his favourite topics. He talked about it in a way that made it feel like it could happen, that one day we would all rise and then the humans would be fucked. He always said he'd lead the way, and I believed him. I would be standing right by his side when it happened, because the humans needed to stop. This all needed to stop.

I leant on my mother's bed, resting my forehead against her side and closed my eyes. I didn't really fall asleep, more like drifting in and out of my thoughts, and there were many of those. With everything going on right in that moment, it was a wonder I didn't drown in it all. The beeping of the machines, the antiseptic smell of the infirmary, and the lingering scent of silverand blood all swirled around me, a constant reminder of where I was and why.

"Raven?" My mother's voice came, I'm not sure how much later. How long had I sat there? An hour? Maybe more. It didn't matter.

I raised my head and found my mother looking at me. Her eyes were open, still swollen but alert, searching my face with concern despite her own condition. I swear some of the bruises had already started to heal. Thank God for Lycanthrocyte. The purple and blue marks seemed less vivid, the edges beginning to fade to a sickly yellow-green. It wasn't much, but it was progress.

"Mum," I breathed, relief flooding through me. "How are you feeling?"

She licked her dry lips, the movement clearly painful. "Can I have some water?" Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I got up to fetch it. There was a small jug and a beaker at a water station near the wall. I grabbed one of the straws too, so she could drink without having to move too much. The water sloshed in the jug as my hands shook slightly, adrenaline still coursing through my system.

Returning to her bedside, I carefully poured some water into the beaker. "Here, Mum," I said softly, holding the straw to her lips. "Small sips, okay?"

She nodded weakly and took a few sips, wincing as she swallowed. Even that small movement seemed to cause her pain, and I felt a fresh wave of anger towards the bastards who'd done this to her.

"Sue said you went to Speake?" I asked, setting the beaker down on the small table beside her bed. "What on earth were you doing there?"

My mother's eyes flashed, a fierce light burning through the swelling and bruises. She took a moment before answering, notout of weakness, but as if calculating her words."Sorting things out," she said.

"You paid off my fine."

She pulled her oxygen mask down to talk to me. "I cleared your debt, that is all. I made sure you didn't owe the humans a bloody thing. You're my son."

"And it was my mess. I have to make my own mistakes," I argued. "You could have got yourself killed."

My mother's eyes flashed with that familiar stubborn fire. "Maybe you do, but I could help you, so I did. I don't stop being your mother just because you grow up." She paused, taking a painful breath before continuing. "One day you'll have children of your own and you'll know this."

I slumped back in my seat, pressing my hands to my temples, just trying to think this through and what I wanted to say, because inside I was so eaten up. I didn't want her to do these things. I didn't want her to bail me out, and sure, I was grateful for it, but also ... I did have to make my own mistakes, I had to live and learn. But I also didn't want my mother paying in blood for the things I'd done. "How did you pay them?" I asked. "It was ten thousand pounds."

"I had some savings," she managed.

"You had ten thousand in savings?"

"Not fully. I ..." She couldn't breathe. Her breaths came out ragged. I reached up then and fixed her oxygen mask back over her face.

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