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thought I had broken a bone in my hand and she might have to fix it.
    She had.
    By way of rebreaking it.
    It sounds terrible and feels much worse, something I’m actually familiar with, since I’ve had it done several times. The first two times happened when I was a kid. My grandmother wasn’t the loving sort and when I didn’t perform well in training, my punishment wasn’t extra training. It was lashes with a whip or broken bones or other forms of torture.
    Colleen was a much kinder healer. Instead of forcing me to remain awake as my grandmother had, she gave me something to put me under.
    I didn’t come out of it until sometime near dawn and she was curled up in the chair, watching over me.
    I stumbled to the bathroom to empty my bladder and when I came out, she was holding a mug.
    The smell alone was enough to make me want to run back into the bathroom. I could hide in there. I’d be safe. Safe from whatever vile nastiness she’d put inside that mug. I almost did it.
    Apparently the look on my face told her what I was thinking. “Don’t try it, Kit,” she warned me. “I helped build the damned wards for that room and I can break them. You need the damned tonic or you’ll be dragging for a week.”
    I hated healing tonics.
    They tasted like piss and vinegar and death.
    “No,” I said, glaring at her.
    “Take it.” She glared right back. Then she smiled evilly at me. “I can always call your sweetie and tell him you’re hurt…he can come play nursemaid and you can take the medicine for him .”
    “You know…I’m sick and tired of people forgetting I’m an adult who took care of herself before I met Damon.” Sourly, I eyed the nasty mess in the mug. It was the color of rancid milk and vomit mixed together and smelled about as pleasant. Taking a deep breath, I tossed it back as quick as I could and then concentrated on not puking it back up. After about sixty seconds, I thought I might be able to keep it down.
    It was a full five minutes before I was certain it was all going to stay down. After another glare at Colleen, I stormed into the kitchen. I needed chocolate or something to get that taste out of my mouth and I needed it fast. Once that hit my system, I was going to crash. Hard.
    “Hell, you don’t need Damon to care of you. Who thinks that?”
    Rooting through the cabinet, I pulled out a package of Tim Tams . “Everybody?” I said. I gave her the condensed version of the job I’d just finished as I ate two cookies and washed them down with milk. Already my brain felt logy. Bed. Needed bed.
    I stumbled on the way to the bedroom and Colleen steadied me with her shoulder under arms. “Bed, Kit,” she said firmly.
    “Brush my teeth,” I mumbled.
    “You have a fetish with this clean thing.” But she helped me to the bathroom and kept me from falling over while I hurriedly brushed my teeth. “You know, it’s not a bad thing the wolf was with you, right? It’s not like you haven’t worked with back-up before.”
    I made a face at her. Then, despite my thick tongue, I said, “The pack leader needs to die. He’s the one…”
    “What one?” she asked, guiding me to the bed.
    I whispered, “TJ.”
    Colleen’s face went tight.
    That was the last thing I remembered before darkness grabbed me.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Sunlight greeted me. But that wasn’t what woke me. I was so tired I could have slept if somebody had been shining floodlights in my face. No, what woke me was the fact that somebody was trying beat the door to my home down. Hard, hammering blows.
    Blows hard enough to rattle the reinforced door in its frame and have my head begging for mercy.
    Emerging from the stupor of a healing tonic left one feeling a little hungover for a few minutes.
    I just needed some coffee and I’d be fine.
    But the idiot at my door wasn’t going to give me five minutes.
    Grumbling, I climbed out of bed. I had on yoga pants and a tank top. I used to sleep in a lot less, but my life has