Page 4 of Midnight Rules
He didn’t need to bother with a scent suppressant. He was already a mixed-up mess of a person. He didn’t smell all woodsy like a wolf did, and he didn’t smell entirely herbal like a witch either.
Not that Marric could smell himself. Who the hell could? He’d been told by some of his pack that he was different often enough. Some have said he smelled as if thyme grew in the forest.
For wolves, scent was everything.
Marric started to sweat, which wouldn’t have been a big deal if the summer night air hadn’t been on the chillier side. The summer hadn’t been very warm. They’d had a few good days, but not as many as in years past. His sweating had nothing to do with the weather.
He knew he had a fever again. He didn’t have to check his temperature. As sweaty as he was, he was also so cold, his teeth chattered.
Marric quickened his pace, wanting to get to the house before his fever spell got any worse. He would have liked to enjoy watching the sun come up in the field. That’s why he’d come out here after his night of breaking and entering instead of going into the house and going to bed.
By the time he bypassed the barns and was in the yard, he shook. His body felt separated from his mind, as if he were outside himself.
He heard his dad curse before he saw him. Dad scooped Marric up in his arms as if he weighed nothing.
Kinnison Ransome was almost a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Marric. Marric took after his mother’s side of the family. His sister Emery had several inches on him, even though she was twelve years younger. She might have grown even more if not for the illness. She was too young to be so sick.
“I’ll get the healer.” Kinnison carried Marric into the house and up the stairs. “She’s with Emery right now.”
“Is… Em-ery… o-ok-ay?” Every word Marric spoke felt as though it came from someone else. Speaking was more of a challenge than finding the needle in the haystack that was the spell book with the cure for their illness.
“She had a bad night, but she’s sleeping now.” That was all Kinnison said. It was enough to tell Marric their time was running out. Even Marric was getting worse.
“N-no…sp-sp…ell…book.” He might have been going about it all wrong. Maybe the book wasn’t in Fortune Falls. Maybe their illness had nothing to do with Regan showing up at their doorstep all those months ago. Or someone murdering Tory the year before.
But Marric didn’t believe in coincidences.
“I could try to find a witch who we can trust to search for the book. You’re getting too sick to go out.” Kinnison winced because they were apprehensive about trusting anyone, including the coven in Timeston.
Marric shook his head. He wished he could yell in protest. They didn’t know why Emery had gotten sick. Or why Marric had become ill as well four months later. But he had to find the cure. It was unusual for wolves to get sick. Marric and Emery’s immune system should have protected them from almost every virus and infection.
“We’re running out of time.”
“N-no. N-not… yet.” Eventually the fever would pass. He wasn’t so far into the illness for it not to, but it would take a while. It always did, and it left him depleted.
When they arrived in Marric’s bedroom, the healer was already there. Miss Marie was the only one they trusted, and that was because they didn’t have a choice.
Miss Marie pulled the blanket back, and Dad laid him on the bed, taking off his shoes. Dad took off his jacket before pulling the blankets around him.
He left for a moment, mumbling about finding more blankets.
The healer brought over a steaming cup of what he knew was an herbal tea blend. She set the cup on the nightstand before sitting on the side of the bed. I’m going to help you drink your tea.”
Marric nodded and let her prop pillows underneath him before she put the cup to his lips.
Her soft white hair brushed against his cheek. She’d always been more like a grandmother than their doctor. She hugged him. “It will all work out. You’ll see.”
She used to be friends with his mother. Sometimes Marric would go with his mom when she visited Miss Marie. Miss Mariehad given him cookies and milk. And he’d sit there while they gabbed.
Her body heat helped make him warmer than the blankets. He wished he could stay like that for longer, but she pulled back and handed him the mug.
“Drink it all, pup. Every drop.” She had bright blue eyes that hadn’t diminished as she aged. But the laugh lines when she smiled told a bit of her story.
He was still shaking, but he got about half of it down before giving up. He shook his head as he slumped against the headboard.
Dad came in with blankets in his arms and Regan following him. Regan also carried a blanket. It was bigger than he was.
Regan dumped his blanket at the end of the bed and then sat next to Marric, meeting his gaze with a frown. A lock of his dark hair fell on his face.
