“Faith believes the vibrations create electricity, but it also appears to allow them to change form. As they vibrate, they grow arms.”
“Fuck.” Aiden twitched. “What if they’re trying to find a way out of their tank?”
“If this is so, they have not found success.”
Aiden grunted thoughtfully. “What about our missing nanobot bomb. Any luck on locating that?”
“No. Nor have we located Kuznetsov’s woman.” The back of Wolf’s neck cramped. Thewoohanna’sescape, coupled with Daniel’s murder, was the biggest regret of his life. He’d clearly misjudged their captive,which had left Muriel’s youngling vulnerable. He’d have to live with that failing until he shed his husk and joined Jude at the campfire of their ancestors.
When hisjavaaneehad not responded for several seconds, Wolf turned to stare at him. For the first time, he took a good look at Aiden’s profile. His eyebrows lifted. O’Neill had not been wrong. Even in profile, hisjavaaneelooked ill—his skin stretched tight and gray, while a dark crescent moon pulled at the skin beneath his right eye.
“Has your sickness returned?” Wolf asked bluntly. “You look unwell.”
Aiden scowled. “Fuck bro, you sound like Demi.”
Which didn’t ease Wolf’s ease his mind. “Are you ill?”
“No,Mother.” Aiden snapped with a roll of his eyes.
Uncertain he could trust Aiden, since hisjavaaneehated showing weakness, Wolf’s hand flashed out, cinching around Aiden’s wrist. It had been three days since hisjavaaneehad walked out of the clinic. Perhaps he should be shoved back in. But the wrist beneath his fingers felt warm, but not hot. He measured Aiden’s pulse with two of his fingers. Strong. Steady.
Aiden spun toward him, his glare venomous. But there was no flush to his tight, gray-tinged face. Not like before, during his previous sickness.
“What the fuck, bro?” Aiden yanked his wrist loose and took a long step back. “I don’t need you checking my pulse. I told you, I’m fine. People need to mind their fucking business.”
“People?” Wolf shook his head, reproach echoing in his words. “It is wise to listen when many tell you the same thing.”
Aiden’s took a deep breath and held it, before continuing in a tight voice. “I’m just tired. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Wolf considered hisjavaanee’swords. Perhaps it was time to launch O’Neill’s trickster strategy. “Sleep still escapes you?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Aiden bit out again, his face folding into stubbornness.
“Yet, you do not appear to be handling it.” Wolf loaded his tone with dryness and doubt. He knew exactly what was interfering with hisjavaanee’s sleep. Aiden was simply too stubborn to acknowledge it.
The scowl that twisted Aiden’s face was a sure sign Wolf’s tone had done its job.
“They’re just fucking nightmares. I’m not seeing your elder gods,” he snarled. But the response sounded defensive.
Wolf shrugged. “I do not claim to understand what you experience when you close your eyes. However, you cannot continue as you are. Ignoring your dreams is not working. It is time for you to seek aid. There are shamans on base who can interpret your dreams—or if you prefer, we also have westerndoctors—but you must speak with someone. Perhaps, once you face these nightmares, you will banish them. But you must do something. Sleep is essential for performance. Without it, you endanger yourself and those around you.”
Aiden’s lips twisted. He turned, staring through the glass once more. “Let me guess. You won’t let me join in the fight against the dead, yet not dead, unless I connect with your Shadow Warrior.” He didn’t sound angry though. More like exhausted. Or lost.
“No.” Wolf’s softened his voice. “I’m not saying you must accept theTaounahamantle.I’m saying you must conquer these nightmares. Only by facing them will you defeat them and find sleep.”
Aiden frowned, before nodding reluctantly.
Although surprised by Aiden’s easy capitulation, Wolf relaxed. O’Neill’s trickster strategy had passed its first obstacle.
Chapter thirteen
Day 26
The Neighborhood, Alaska
Muriel headed toward the open door; her hair still wet from the shower. A neighbor must be handing off another dish. It happened like clockwork every night. Not even Penny the peafowl’s aggressive defense of her perceived territory had stopped the nightly catering visits. And it wasn’t just food people were offering. They offered all sorts of other services too—snow shoveling, wood chopping, and salting the steps. The house was obviously on a neighborhood schedule, where everyone took turns caring for them while Olivia camped out beside Samuel’s hospital bed.
This was a good community. A neighborhood full of good people, the kind who stepped up and helped out when needed.
