Page 80 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
In seven days, Tim had grown almost two inches. His body had lengthened, as if someone was stretching him on a medieval rack, but slowly and carefully, allowing his bones and sinew to adjust. The small belly he'd carried had completely disappeared, his body cannibalizing every spare ounce of fat to fuel the transformation. Even the minimal muscle definition he'd had was gone, leaving him looking gaunt and skeletal.
He was getting all the necessary nutrients through his IV, but at the rate his body was changing, it wasn’t enough.
"You're going to hate how skinny you are now," she told him, marking her place in the book with her finger. "All that complaining about being short and pudgy, and now you'll have to complain about being a beanpole instead. Though knowing you, you'll find a way to make that our fault."
The door opened with a soft whoosh, and Bridget entered with her tablet in hand.
Hildegard would never say it to Julian's face, but she was glad his mother had taken over Tim's care. Bridget had significantly more experience than Julian, and Hildegard wanted the best for Tim.
"How's our miracle patient today?" Bridget asked, moving to check the monitors.
"Same as yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that." Hildegard set the book aside. "I'm starting to think that he's doing this on purpose just to be difficult."
Bridget's lips quirked in a smile as she reviewed the readouts. "Andrew claims that being difficult seems to be Tim's specialty, but he's just another patient to me." She shook her head. "Before Tim, Andrew was the Dormant who gained more inches than anyone else, but I have a feeling that Tim is going to beat him for the record. His growth rates are unprecedented."
"Should we be worried?"
"I don't think so." Bridget moved to Tim's bedside, gently manipulating his arm to test muscle tone. "The fact that his body can do this so fast is an excellent sign. Especially given his poor fitness level." She lifted Tim's arm, showing how thin it had become. "He's using everything available as fuel. Even protein from his own muscles. Not that he had much of that to begin with."
Hildegard studied Tim's transformed features. His face had refined during the transition, cheekbones emerging from what had been a soft roundness, his jaw becoming more defined. He would never be truly handsome, but his new look was compelling.
"He's going to be weak as a kitten when he wakes up."
"Weaker," Bridget said. "He'll need extensive physical therapy just to walk properly. His center of gravity will be completely different, his proprioception shot to hell. It's going to be like learning to use his body all over again."
"He's going to love that," Hildegard said dryly. "Tim's least favorite thing is needing help from other people."
Bridget chuckled. "Maybe it'll teach him some humility."
"We should live so long." Hildegard picked up the water pitcher, refilling the cup she used to keep Tim's lips moist. "Turner went through a long transition as well, and you were much more worried about him than you are about Tim. Why's that?"
Bridget closed her eyes as if the memory of her mate transitioning and almost not making it was still painful to her. "I had good reasons to worry. Turner had cancer prior to his transition. When he began the transition, the cancer was in remission, but I was terrified of it reemerging with a vengeance, propelled by the growth spurt that sometimes occurs. In a healthy Dormant, that growth is seen as a good thing and means the body is working to reach its full potential. But Turner didn't grow any taller, so I had no indication that his body was doing well."
Hildegard nodded. "Every transitioning Dormant has a different story."
"Indeed." The physician cast her an encouraging smile before leaving the room.
Hildegard returned to her reading, but her mind kept wandering. She'd volunteered to supervise Tim day and night because Gertrude had taken Rob to Scotland to meet her mother, and they had no other nurse on staff. Perhaps she should have accepted Ronja's offer to help out for a few hours a day because she was getting too involved. But then Ronja hadn't practiced nursing for decades, and she had no experience with transitioning Dormants.
Hildegard couldn't trust her with Tim's life.
She'd been charmed by him, damn it.
That first day when he'd woken up, all swagger and inappropriate comments despite being weak as a newborn. The way he'd looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The complete lack of filter that should have been offensive but somehow came across as refreshingly honest.
"'Marcus had learned long ago that caring was a weakness,'" she continued reading. "'Let people know what mattered to you, and they'd use it as a weapon. So, he'd built his walls of sarcasm and cutting wit, each cruel observation another brick in the fortress. The problem with fortresses, though, was that they kept you in as effectively as they kept others out.'"
She paused, looking at Tim's peaceful face. "Sound familiar? I bet you and Marcus would be thick as thieves. Or maybe you'd hate each other. Probably both."
The door opened again, and Andrew entered carrying a cardboard carrier with two coffee cups and a white paper bag that smelled of fresh sandwiches, like he'd been doing almost every day after work.
"Good afternoon." He set everything on the small table by her chair. "How's the patient?"
"Still playing Sleeping Beauty." Hildegard accepted the coffee gratefully. "Though at the rate he's growing, he'll be Sleeping Beanstalk by the time he wakes up."
Andrew moved to stand at the foot of Tim's bed, studying the changes. "Fates. He really has grown, hasn't he?"
"Almost two inches, and he's not done yet."
