He could feel so much and so little at the same time, a chaos of molecular systems he had no way to influence or even understand, but deep in there, he picked up the tug of singular atoms he knew well—iron, magnesium; a little lead, copper, and tin—and one compound that was more familiar than the rest. An active ingredient in Lydia’s medication? He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do with it either—what if his action increased its toxicity? But what if it didn’t.
Mercer could feel the strength of Rahil’s hand on his shoulder and Lydia’s warmth pressed against his side and he did the only thing he could: he broke the deadly molecules in two, right down the middle. They shifted as it came apart, rearranging themselves slightly, and that… was it.
Kat’s shaking slowed, then stopped.
Mercer tried not to let the relief come yet. They were far from out of the woods.
“Where’s the nearest emergency vet?” he asked, cradling Kat against his chest as he stood. She made no sound, and he had to remind himself that she was still breathing.
Lydia gave a tiny sob, her eyes huge as she shook her head in confusion, but Rahil immediately pulled out his phone.
“North on Pine Street and left on Citrus,” Rahil said. “It’s on the right after the micro-cemetery, like a quarter mile down.”
“Right.” Mercer was already moving. He could hear Lydia scrambling along behind him, one hand looped through his arm to hold Kat, but he was in the car, pulling out of the drive by the time he realized Rahil wasn’t with them.
The vampire stood in the shadow of the front door, waving weakly. He looked like a mess, worried and pale. Mercer didn’t have time to wave back before they’d passed him, tearing down the street at a rate that Mercer would never have dreamed of nearing were it not for the beagle unconscious in his lap.
“Hold on there,” he muttered, not sure whether it was for himself or the dog. “We’re going to be just fine.”
Mercer tapped his foot against the sterile tile, squeezing Lydia’s hand as they sat, their plastic chairs as close together as they could get. The waiting room lights were a little too bright and the buzz of the air conditioning a little too loud and all he wanted was for the vet to come back out and tell them everything was going to be okay. This wasn’t Leah.
Kat was the first and only new family member Mercer had let into their little two-some since his wife had died, and that seemed meaningful. Losing her now would feel like a sign. It shouldn’t have, but it would.
Mercer could only take so much more heartbreak.
And Lydia—
Goddamn—what was he going to do about Lydia?
“Is it my fault?” She said it so softly that Mercer thought perhaps he’d misheard her, but she looked more than panicked—she looked guilty, too.
Mercer squeezed her hand. “No, Puck. Sometimes these things just happen.”
As he said it though, his mind raced. He should have double-checked the kitchen before he left the house. Had he knocked something onto the floor while cooking? It had felt so much like Lydia’s medication, though. Maybethatwas what he’d knocked over.
Mercer felt his lungs tighten, his vision turning to spots, and he forced himself to focus on one breath at a time, keeping his face blank and his gaze fixed on a single point.
Lydia seemed too lost in her own anxiety to notice. “It was my pills, though, wasn’t it? I saw the container on the counter. It was open.”
“On the counter?” Mercer felt his brow tighten as a spark of confusion wormed into his panic, but Lydia had already continued.
“I swear I closed it this morning,” she rambled, weak and wet. “I put them back in the med bin, against the cupboard. Iknow. I know I saw them there when I left.”
“I know you did, Puck.” Mercer felt the words come out of his mouth, sounding so much more reassuring than he felt, but his mind was still churning.
He found himself rubbing the back of Lydia’s hand when the veterinarian walked out. Her gaze locked on them immediately. Lydia jumped up, Mercer not far behind.
“Kat is stable,” the vet assured them. “She has a long recovery ahead of her, but whatever she ingested is out of her system.”
Relief hit Mercer, but somehow it couldn’t wash away the fear that had been growing inside him like a mold for so long. Still, he managed a soft, “Thank you.”
Lydia bounced on the balls of her feet, looking back to the glass window in the door the vet had arrived through. “Can we take her home?”
“Not yet. She’ll probably need to stay overnight in case anything changes. But if you wait for a few more minutes, you can come see her before you go.”
“Yes,” Lydia agreed instantly.
Mercer nodded. “Please.”
