‘Hmm.’ He scratched the whiskers on his chin and looked at me dubiously. ‘People like the Dinsburys have deep-seated beliefs. It will take more than time to change their minds. Obviously I don’t mind her staying with you, but it might be better for her if she didn’t stay too long.’
Easier said than done; at the moment Keres couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. ‘She’s not well,’ I told him. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong. I need to get a doctor to come and see her. She’s unconscious, Dave – I think she’s very sick.’
He stiffened. ‘She’s ill?’
‘Really ill.’
Dave straightened his shoulders. ‘I’ll sit with her until you get back.’
It was what I’d hoped he’d say. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure,’ he snapped. ‘But if I catch a nasty disease and die, you’ll be the one who has to deal with the fall-out,’ he added, with a deep scowl.
He Who Crunches Bird Bones hissed but Dave only shrugged at him. ‘I’m telling the truth. Which is more than she did to the damned Dinsburys.’
True. But as long as nobody died in the near future, it would be fine. I hoped.
Chapter
Nine
There were a lot of doctors, nurses and wellness practitioners in Coldstream because Preternaturals often required medical attention. Magic didn’t always go hand in hand with good health; quite the opposite, in fact. I could have found plenty of medics nearby to help Keres but I wanted the right sort of person. And he lived some distance away.
I’d come across Fergus a few months earlier when I’d dragged the semi-conscious body of a pompous witch called Quentin Hightower through the streets. Fergus wasn’t exactly a doctor but he ran a tiny clinic and possessed exactly the sort of skill that I reckoned Keres needed. If anyone could work out what was wrong with her – and help her – he could.
Fergus wasn’t a cat sith so he couldn’t transform into a cat and see the black weeds growing inside her body, but he did have the magical ability to sniff out ailments. It would be worth travelling to the other side of the city to fetch him, although going from one end of Coldstream to the other would be more complicated during the full moon.
I waited patiently at the end of the road for the next purple-spark-laden tram to stop in front of me. The on-board guardinspected me briefly before allowing me to pass through the wolfsbane barrier.
Werewolves wouldn’t be allowed on public transport until Monday when the full moon had passed. Although they were generally able to control their more violent urges when they were in public, there were exceptions to every rule. It was twenty-two years since a werewolf had boarded a tram during the full moon and killed everyone on board, and painful memories like that took a long time to subside. Besides, no transformed wolf needed to take the tram because their four legs would carry them much further and faster than any vehicle, even a magical one such as this.
I changed trams at Crackendon Square and underwent the same checks. There was a group of seven werewolves, all furry, hovering in the far corner of the public square. Even though Thane was a lone wolf who was usually ignored by his own kind, I checked the small posse to see if he was among them. He wasn’t. By the time we pulled away, the werewolves were leaving, doubtless heading for the outskirts of the city where there was more space for them to expend their lupine energy.
I disembarked outside Bruggens, a well-appointed witchery store with marked-up prices, and walked the few hundred metres to the grubby clinic. The Caring Touch Institution looked like the sort of place that would scam you out of every last penny you owned then kick you while you were down, but appearances were deceptive. Anyone who crossed me always found that out very quickly.
I pushed open the front door, pleased to discover that the waiting room was devoid of patients. To be fair, it was late in the evening so I was lucky that the clinic was open. although the welcome desk – which wasn’t welcoming in the slightest – was as empty as it had been during my first visit. Fergus clearly hadn’t paid any attention to my advice to hire a receptionist.
Rather than take a seat and wait, I marched to the inner door, opened it and drew breath to call out. I didn’t get the chance, though, because Fergus appeared with his arm hooked through that of an elderly witch. He was clearly escorting her to the exit.
‘Hi, Fergus,’ I called brightly.
Both he and the old witch ignored me. ‘Mind your step, Mrs Davidson,’ he murmured.
She responded with a breathy expression of gratitude, and I stepped back to let her get past. That didn’t stop the older woman from jabbing me with her bony elbow, which I was certain was no accident. I smiled; I looked forward to the day when I was old enough to carry out minor assaults without comment from my victims.
‘Remember to take the pills with every meal.’
‘Yes, doctor.’
‘Just Fergus,’ he answered smoothly.
‘Yes, doctor.’
Fergus gave up and helped her outside. ‘Mind how you go.’
I didn’t hear what she said in return but whatever it was made Fergus appear less blearily beleaguered for a long moment. He closed the door after her.
Now he was all mine. ‘I need your help,’ I said loudly.
