“Yes,” I said.

“No,” he said.

“This isn’t weakness on your part; no lycanthrope could heal this, Rafael. If you’d been weaker it could have killed you, but you were just too strong for the bastards.”

“Is the pain making me miss your point?”

“Maybe, but this was a deliberate plot to kill you; the challenger was only one of the conspirators. The healer was at least his partner in crime, if not part of a larger plot.”

“Anita is right, Rafael; only someone as strong as you could have survived this attack. If your body hadn’t healed fast enough to keep the silver nitrate from entering your bloodstream, you might never have made it here alive.”

“The healer must die for this,” he said, at last.

“Yes,” Micah said, “but first we need to find out if she and your challenger were the only ones involved in the plot. If it’s a larger problem we need to know that.”

“Yes, yes, of course, I think the wound is clouding my thinking.”

“Pain will do that,” I said.

“Let’s get your guards in here to help take you to the medical area. I’ll alert the doctor on duty.”

“I need to give orders to Benito about the healer, before the doctor begins cutting on me.”

“Agreed,” Micah and I said together.

“Will you both help me give the orders needed? I want to make certain she is alive long enough for questioning.”

“We’ll help you give clearheaded orders,” I said.

“Thank you, both of you.” He hugged me and held his other hand out to Micah, who took it. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if the sex I had with Rafael was really what made us more than friends; maybe it was the shared mantle of responsibility instead? Something about having people trying to kill you, and knowing that the three of us were on the short list of those we could trust implicitly, was a pretty good bonding experience. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, and all that jazz.

26

MICAH AND I stayed with Rafael long enough to see him safely with the doctor in the medical area we’d put in under the Circus. We had too many injuries that we didn’t want to explain to a normal hospital, like Rafael’s stab wound. Dr. Lillian had even found a painkiller that would work, briefly, on shapeshifters so he didn’t have to feel every cut as she sliced away the damaged tissue and let the blood flow. Once it was just fresh wounds he’d be able to heal himself, maybe slower than normal because of what caused the damage, but he’d heal.

But before he let Doc Lillian give him the painkiller, he talked to Micah, Benito, and me. He set in motion that the healer who had done this would be taken, questioned, and eventually killed. That last part wasn’t stated, but it was a given. You try to assassinate the king, you die; period. Regicide is just one of those crimes that has to carry maximum punishment to discourage anyone else.

Micah went back to see if there was still food for dinner. I went to get clothes, because even though most of the lycanthropes would have walked around nude if we’d let them, I just felt better with clothes on if it was normal, everyday stuff. Naked was for sleeping and sex. Nathaniel texted me that he’d saved me food. I’d stopped off at the locker room to free my guns, because now that I had belt loops and pants I could load up again. My good gun belt was tacky with the clear stuff that I’d washed off myself. I’d planned on cleaning the leather after my shower, but the next emergency had distracted me. I was debating on cleaning it before I went to dinner, which would mean I was unarmed but would give the leather time to dry out, when my phone rang.

I might have ignored it, but the ring tone was work, as in raising the dead, not catching bad guys. “I’m not working tonight, what’s up?”

“Anita, it’s Manny.”

That made me pay more attention. He wouldn’t have called without a good reason. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m on duty tonight, so I’m watching the GPS on the zombies we have out.”

“Zombie babysitting, better you than me.”

“The zombie you raised tonight isn’t at any of the addresses on the list of clients.”

“Where is it?”

“Denny’s.”

“Denny who?”

“The restaurant,” he said.

“You mean the zombie is at Denny’s restaurant?”

“That’s where the ankle GPS says it is.”

“Shit, they can’t take him to a restaurant. It’s illegal to have a zombie inside a place that does food service. Health services will close them down for an investigation if they find out.”

“I know.”

“Of course you know. I’ll call the client. Maybe they got the munchies and the zombie is sitting in the parking lot.”

“Didn’t they request hours to question this zombie for historical battles, or something?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Most of the ones that ask for that don’t go out for munchies,” he said.

“You’re right. I’ll call them, let you know what they say.”

“Can’t wait to hear this one,” Manny said.

“Clients are weird,” I said.

“Amen,” he said.

“Thanks, Manny, I’ll call you back.” I hung up and called Mr. MacDougal. What the hell were they doing at Denny’s with my zombie?

MacDougal answered on the third ring. “Ms. Blake, what can we do for you?”