Page 30 of Wings and Shadowthief

Blair was breathing hard, physically drained. "By the gods, remind me not to piss you off." She accepted her help to get back up to her feet.

"Since when have you known?" Gwen asked.

"That you have a temper? Since two minutes ago, clearly. I wouldn't have tried you otherwise." Blair winked at her. "But about Jack? Well, I realized there was some tension between you two over last few months, of course, but I didn'tgetit. Not until he left. You've been in a funk since then. Also, you don't normally get into people's business, but you wanted to know everything I knew about his condition—and his absence. Finally, I've seen you look at his table a few times. A girl can add one plus one and ends up with two, occasionally."

Gwen cringed as Blair described what she’d noticed. She couldn’t help but wonder if all her friends had guessed there was something between her and Jack. At least, they weren’t party to the embarrassing details. '"It's not what you think. I don't like him at all. It's just that I feel—"

What did she feel exactly? It was hard to put into words. Humiliated at the start, for certain. Then, angry that she let herself care. One-night stands were no big deal. He hadn't been first and none of the others had mattered. Since March, she'd oscillated between being pissed at him and pissed at herself. She hated that he had an excuse, that the thing about him not remembering what occurred sometimes was true. Because if she truly accepted his explanation, then she had no cause for anger, and where did that leave her? Vulnerable. She wasn't about to let that happen. Not with someone who’d already hurt her, willingly or not.

But it was true that what tended to cause her anger was a much simpler notion. She'd heard him say “I love you” over the phone, and she assumed it had been to some girl. In a way, she was right; Tris was technically some girl. And right now, Blair had just had to hint at some interest for her to go from her usual nonviolent self to a crazy, murdering creature wanting to hurt a friend.

It made no sense to her.

The worst was that she didn't even know Jack. Not truly. They might have hovered around each other for a while, but she had no clue how he took his coffee, what sort of movies he liked, whether he was the grunge or rock type of music listener. All she knew was that his cock was thick and eight inches long. Apparently that was enough. She was officially one of those girls rendered stupid by clever fingers, a talented tongue, and a very good dick.

"I get it." Blair laughed out loud. "Trust me, Igetit. I think that we witches like to pretend to be entirely human, and we tend to forget that magic makes us more elemental than regulars. We may think that our brains are in charge, but sometimes magic clarifies things for us. Don't try to understand what your nature is telling you. Just decide what you're gonna do about it."

Gwen was spared the need to think too hard about those words by the sound of a plaintive high-pitched cry nearby.

The two witches stared at each other for a beat before walking side by side, drawn to it like moth to flame.

Cosnoc, unlike the Wolvswoods or even Night Hill, didn't have much fauna, whether it was because of the spells repelling animals or because they were too smart to be close to a creature like Eirikr. Yet the recognizable sound indeed came from a cat.

Gwen came to an abrupt stop as they approached the poor little creature, screaming softly at the top of its lungs. It was a tiny muddy thing that couldn't be more than a few days old, lying among a pile of matted, dirty fur. Its mother lay dead, attracting fleas and worms, her nipples long since dried. Next to it were three equally dirty kittens, all still and cold.

"I'm gonna be sick."

Witches often dealt with dead animals. Spiders and rats and even the occasional bird carcass could be required to complete spells. Never cats. Only monsters would harm cats. There was a long, heavily documented relationship between felines and witches. They respected each other, often choosing each other for companions.

Equally shaken, Blair steeled her resolve nonetheless and approached as quietly as she could, whispering in a soft voice. "There, there, baby. I hear you. I've come for you. I'm going to take care of you now. Everything will be fine."

The kitten never stopped screaming, eyes closed, its little paws kneading at the air in desperation. Slowly, and almost reverently, Blair lifted it up and pressed it against her chest.

Sweet and bubbly, quick to laugh, Blair had never seemed ferocious to Gwen until that moment. She was fairly certain that if the creature that had harmed that cat passed by in that moment, the witch would have burned it to ash where it stood. "Healing magic," she ordered Gwen. "As much as you can."

Gwen did what she could out in the woods, then they ran back down to the Institute as fast as their limbs, enhanced by spells, could carry them.

At least, Blair was done talking about Jack. For now.

Hot and Cold

The crowd assembled in the dark, sterile lab observed in complete silence as the tall, blond vampire listened to the kitten’s heartbeat for the third time.

The first time, he’d frowned. The second time, he’d cursed under his breath. Now, Alexius Helsing remained expressionless as he scribbled a note on a pad.

“It'll live," he finally concluded after his thorough examination.

Everyone exhaled in relief in the same breath. Greer had been assisting Alexius in an experiment when Gwen and Blair had burst inside the lab with the pitiful little kitten, all skin and bones. Alerted by the commotion, Cat and Diana joined them soon after, and all five women had remained in the room for the last three hours as Alexius worked on the animal.

He’d rubbed balms on his matted fur, fed him potions, pricked him with various needles, occasionally asking for a tool or ingredient Greer was quick to provide.

Watching Alexius heal was always a strange experience, because under any other circumstances, that vampire was the opposite of serious. He loved to joke around and piss off his friends, no matter how serious the situation. When he was presented with a patient in need of his care, he morphed into the most dedicated of caregivers, utterly focused on his task.

"It'd better," Blair all but threatened.

Now that he’d performed his office, Alexius was back to his usual self. “I’m not a vet, lady, and I can't perform miracles. I can't believe you had me use elixir on a damn cat.”

No one pointed out that he hadn’t been forced to use anything; he’d chosen what to administer.

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