Page 74 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
Fergus laughed. ‘I’m sure you are. Very well, then, but you’ll have to wait outside with the cat.’
There were two narrow windows in the far wall of the examination room that allowed in a fair amount of natural light, but they weren’t large enough for even a child to wigglethrough. ‘Is there a back door to this place?’ I asked. I couldn’t leave anything to chance.
‘No.’ He smirked. ‘Feel free to check.’ On the bed Hightower groaned and twitched. ‘Don’t fret,’ Fergus said. ‘He’ll be fine.’
As I looked at the witch’s pale, clammy face, I wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or not. Only time would tell.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Ihad no idea what Fergus did to Quentin Hightower but several times I felt waves of strange magic pulse through the walls of the waiting room. He Who Guards raised his hackles on three separate occasions but waited by my side and didn’t try to leave or suggest that he sensed anything to be truly worried about.
The clinic’s front door opened twice. The first time, an elderly druid popped his head around and eyed me. He didn’t say a word, just harrumphed loudly and slammed the door as he disappeared again, as if he couldn’t countenance the idea of waiting. About twenty minutes later, a pixie tiptoed in looking flushed and feverish, as if she were in the throes of some nasty virus. I hoped it wasn’t contagious; I didn’t have time to be ill.
She hugged her arms around her thin body and shivered in the corner. She didn’t seem surprised by the lack of a receptionist so I reckoned she’d been to this clinic before. I considered striking up a conversation before deciding I was already busy enough with other people’s problems. Even Trilby would agree that there were limits. Besides, nothing about the pixie’s manner suggested she was feeling sociable.
At exactly one minute past one, the door leading to the examination room opened and Quentin Hightower walked out. He still looked pale but he was walking unaided and his skin was no longer deathly pale. Fergus had come through.
I moved to the side to block the exit to the street; I didn’t want Hightower to escape before I’d had the chance to quiz him. I shouldn’t have worried because the witch offered me a half-smile and sat down heavily on a chair. ‘Thank you,’ he said stiffly. ‘That’s the second time you’ve saved my life.’
I tilted my head. ‘And that’s the first time you’ve sounded grateful.’
The pixie stared at me, her eyes wide. When He Who Guards sprang up and launched himself at Hightower, she looked even more shocked. ‘Hey!’ I said sharply. ‘Stop that!’
The cat lashed out, his claws snagging the trouser material around Hightower’s left calf. I didn’t entirely blame him; that yellow and lilac tweedwasoffensive.
‘Leave him alone,’ Fergus barked from the doorway. He pointed to a faded sign on the far wall that stated that violence would not be tolerated under any circumstances. I had yet to meet a cat who could read, but He Who Guards moved away to wash his face. As far as the tabby was concerned, he’d made his point.
‘Mr Hightower is under orders not to exert himself for the next forty-eight hours,’ Fergus said. ‘If you’re planning to torture him, leave it until then or his heart might give way quicker than you’d like.’
The pixie looked as if she were about to pass out.
I crossed my arms. ‘I won’t torture him,’ I protested.
Fergus shrugged. ‘So you say. Whether you do or don’t, he’s paid his bill in full so you are freed from your vow to meet the costs.’
That was good. I glanced at Hightower; his eyes met mine but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Fergus turned to the pixie and gave her a long look. ‘So what have you done this time, Pippa?’ She flinched under the weight of his gaze and dropped her head when he sighed. ‘I’ve told you not to touch magicked herbs like that,’ he muttered. He pointed to the examination room. ‘Come on, then.’
The skinny pixie couldn’t move fast enough. She darted past me, giving He Who Guards a wide berth. Fergus started to follow her. ‘Thank you!’ I called after him, but if he heard me he didn’t react.
Within a few seconds, the only occupants of the waiting room were me, Quentin Hightower and a grumpy tabby cat. ‘Well,’ I said.
Hightower sighed. ‘Well.’ As he stared at me, for the first time I saw a flicker of something vaguely intelligent behind his eyes. Hmm. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
My expression didn’t change. ‘I’m the one asking the questions.’
He folded his arms. ‘I am Quentin Hightower.’
‘I know that.’
‘I am important. And skilled. And I am a hero,’ he added with a flourish.
‘A knight in shining armour?’ I asked, unable to help myself.
‘Yes.’
