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same: retribution against those who’d inadvertently wiped out so much of their population. In response, most of the Skilled went into hiding, practicing their craft in secret while wearing masks of Normalcy in public.
    With the Reformation, however, greater effort was placed on meshing the two societies—the last thing any of us wanted was more conflict. The Delwinn Council, specifically the Elders who had final authority on all major issues, felt that hiring Normals to protect HQ sent a clear message that the Skilled were completely onboard with the union.
    Mick certainly seemed to approve. He smiled at the pretty blonde who handed him his staff while the bored man with dark hair made me sign for my gun and sword. I strapped the holster to my thigh while Mick and the female guard chatted. It wasn’t until I chambered a round into the Glock that Mick tore his attention away from her.
    His eyes widened with surprise. “You keep that thing loaded?”
    “Trust me, when you need it, you don’t have time to load it.”
    He shook his head, chuckling while I slung my sword onto my back. We thanked the guards as we departed, but Mick lingered while the lady wrote her number on his hand.
    “Hey, I completely forgot to ask how you were feeling,” he said, jogging to catch up with me near the doors. “Any headaches? Exhaustion? Muscle pain?”
    “Migraine,” I admitted. “And my body feels like I’ve run a marathon, but at least I’m mobile. If I’d tapped my Skill like I did today a couple years ago, I’d have been comatose for days.”
    “Magical atrophy is something we all have to worry about, Marcus. Use it or lose it, right?” he added with a wink.
    I found no humor in his comment. “I lost it hard. Getting back in shape has been harder.”
    “It’ll take a while to fully recover. Spend time in the library, keep hitting the gym, and practice, practice, practice.”
    “Mind, body, and Skill strong, Grasshopper?”
    “More like ‘Do or do not,’ Padawan.”
    I laughed, then winced as my skull throbbed.
    “Here.” Mick placed the hand without the phone number on my head. He started murmuring and the heat from the Healing Spell melted into my skull. It felt like someone was massaging my brain with a giant down pillow. The warmth subsided, as did most of the pain.
    “Better?”
    I nodded, basking in the relief. “Thanks.”
    “Anytime.” He turned back toward the door. “So what’s your plan now that we’re on the sidelines?”
    “I’m not sure. Get some sleep, then check on my bees in the morning. You?”
    Mick glanced at the guard. “We’ll see.”
    I shook my head. “I doubt we’ll be benched for long. It’s just a matter of time before they’ll need us. We may not be popular right now, but we have the one quality the Council needs the most.”
    “Experience?”
    “A pulse.”
    Mick’s booming laugh echoed off the walls. “True. Take care, Shifter,” he added, offering me his hand.
    I gripped it with a feeling of guilt for always taking what he offered, but never returning the favor. “You too,” I said earnestly. “And thanks. Not just for healing my headache, but for always being there. Sometimes I forget that people need to know when they’re appreciated, so I want to make you know that it’s been a pleasure serving with you on the rift team. Plus, if it wasn’t for you, Alistair would be in a lot worse shape.”
    The Healer released me, beaming with pride. “You’re welcome, but I was just doing my job.”
    “Well keep doing it. The way things are going, we’ll need all the capable Healers we can get.”
    “Give me a call,” he said, then pushed open the door.
    Something outside yelped with surprise. Mick and I turned to see who made the noise, then the squat man dropped like a rock as a knife slammed into his chest. He crumpled to the ground with a grunt.
    Before I could check on him, we were both thrown backward as the door caved from the shockwave of a massive