Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [81]
“Hm, yes. All us nice boys hang out in cages learning how to raise the dead. Torturing little birds…” I looked at my hands. I couldn’t see any blood on them, but I wiped them on my jeans anyway.
Brid kissed me softly on the cheek. I forgot about my hands.
“You’re still nice,” she said softly.
I nodded, clenching my jaw to keep my eyes from tearing up. Brid’s faith was reassuring, but I was wondering how nice I’d be after a few more days of Douglas’s training.
Dinner was a repetition of the last meal, except they added an orange. Either Douglas had forgotten I don’t eat ham, or he left it in an attempt to teach me yet another lesson. Of course, Michael could have prepared the meal and done it trying to piss me off. I had a lot of time on my hands to think about these things.
I gave the ham to Brid and went about peeling my orange.
“At least now I won’t get scurvy,” I said.
Brid finished the ham, licking the juice off her fingers. “I’m glad you’re looking on the bright side of things.”
“Of course, with no sun, I’ll eventually get rickets.”
“No, you won’t,” Brid said.
“But I’m not getting enough vitamin D.”
“I know, but in adults they don’t call it rickets. It’s called osteomalacia.” Brid swallowed another mouthful of her stew, smiling at my surprise. “I take a lot of biology classes and study under the pack doctor.” She took another bite. “We do have some medical personnel scattered about the pack, but I want to be able to do basic stuff.”
“Surely you don’t have to worry about osteo-whatever,” I said, popping a piece of orange into my mouth.
“You never know when knowledge might come in handy, so I try not to limit myself. Besides, I liked the word. Rickets,” she spoke it clearly and slowly, biting off each syllable.
I pushed my legs out, stretching them. “Do you guys heal fast? Or is that just a movie thing?”
“We do, but it still does take some time. If you bleed out too fast, all the healing in the world won’t do you any good. And if you’re choking, you still need the Heimlich. We need air just like anything else.”
I folded my cheese into my bread. “Don’t need a silver bullet to do you in, huh?”
“No, but it certainly helps.”
I choked a little on my makeshift sandwich.
Brid gave me a wicked grin as she licked her spoon.
I drank some water to stop my coughing fit. I didn’t want an overenthusiastic Heimlich from Brid. I didn’t know what was fact or fiction yet about werewolves, but I didn’t want to find out about superstrength the hard way.
After a final bathroom trip, we were escorted back to the cage for the night. Michael flipped the switch, and we were thrown into darkness. Brid, used to far more physical exertion than me, began to pace back and forth. There wasn’t enough space to do sprints. Even walking, she pinged back and forth like an angry bee.
“You okay?”
“This cage is driving me crazy,” she said, continuing to pace.
“You claustrophobic?”
“No, but I can’t change and I can’t run.”
I listened to her feet as they padded back and forth. They reminded me of the tiger at the zoo pacing his cage.
“We need to change frequently, Sam. I can put it off by burning excess energy, but if I wait too long, I’ll start to go a little wiggy.”
“Wiggy is bad.”
“And I don’t know if they did this on purpose, but I can’t change in here!” She shouted the last part, and I heard her fists bang into the bars. Brid continued to scream, loud and angry, beating her fists in counterpoint.
I scrambled to my feet and went to her. I didn’t want to get between her fists and the cage, but I didn’t want her to hurt herself either. I made soothing sounds and touched her shoulders, giving her a second to acknowledge my presence. You never want to spook an already freaked-out animal. The same goes for people. I slid my hands down Brid’s arms until I got her wrists. Taking hold of them, I pulled her arms in toward her chest, hugging her. I let her scream until she got it all out, keeping the comforting sounds going until she finished. Her body quaked and shook.
“We’ll think of something,” I whispered into her ear. “Don’t