Everyone had a Margery story. How she’d taken a meatloaf meal to an elderly neighbor. How she’d stayed with a sick child so his mother could go grocery shopping. Injured shifters showed up at his clinic with gashes expertly dressed, broken bones splinted. She’d done first aid and sent them on to him for healing.
He’d been wrong about her.
But this wasn’t the time to address that.
Bowing his head, he set his hands on each side of the torn muscles along Tynan’s ribs. Gently, ignoring his littermate’s involuntary growl, he pushed the flesh together as best he could and let the power flow through him. Tissues knitted together. Veins, arteries, muscles, fascia, subcutaneous tissue, and all the layers of skin.
As he finished, he could feel the emptiness inside where his pool of power had lain, depleted by the number of healings he’d done.
His hands shook as he straightened up. The sweat on his face turned cold in the bitter wind.
With little Lucas still cuddled against her side, Margery gave him a concerned look. “Healer, maybe—”
“You’re turning pale, Donal.” Tynan’s brows drew together. “Stop, mo deartháir.
Donal scowled. Mo deartháir, my tail. Tynan only used the Irish “my brother” when drunk—or when one of them came too close to death. “I’m fine.”
“Dammit, I can wait.” Tynan moved as if he’d try to get away and groaned when the movement jarred his broken leg.
Donal snapped, “Don’t move, idiot,” even as the banfasa growled, “You lie still.”
Her hazel eyes flashed with anger as she glared at Tynan.
Someone who could stand up against the cop. Hmm. Donal tilted his head. “I think…perhaps…I might decide to like you.”
Her astonished expression almost made him laugh.
Donal turned his attention to Tynan’s leg and considered his own energy. “You’re right, brawd. I need more power to finish.”
“So, I assumed.” Calum’s voice came from behind him. “I sent for some of your females.”
“We need to get out of here,” Tynan said. “It’s a park. There’ll be humans.”
“Not for long.” The corners of the Cosantir’s lips tipped up. “Victoria is here. Seeing the cubs injured put her in a vile mood.”
Ben snorted. “I’m fixin’ to be sorry for any humans who run afoul of her.”
Donal noticed Margery’s confusion. “Having served in the human military, she gives orders and expects them to be obeyed. Or else.”
Chuckling, Ben elaborated. “Alec will move them along politely. Vicki will knock them off the mountain.”
“Indeed. Thus, no need to move the injured until you’re ready, Donal.” Calum’s gaze turned toward the street. “It appears your help is here.”
With relief, Donal saw Farrah running across the park.
“Healer.” Kneeling behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. The bond from the last Gathering was still strong, and as he opened himself, power flowed from her, replenishing his empty stores. His cells revived like dry plants under a soft rain.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured, patting her hand.
“Anytime, Donal.” She rubbed her cheek against the side of his face and disappeared as quickly as she’d come.
Margery stared after the female, then frowned at him.
“Now, let’s get this fixed.” Donal moved to where he could work on Tynan’s broken leg. It was a fucking mess.
“You look confused, Meggie.” Tynan winced as Donal covered the break with his hand.
“I didn’t know healers took time out for hugs.” The disapproval in her voice was oddly amusing.
Donal smothered a smile.
Tynan huffed a laugh. “Healers store only so much of the Mother’s power. Once it’s gone, they can get power from shifters with whom they have a bond.”
“Like their littermate?” she asked.
“No.” Tynan stiffened as Donal probed the wound. He added, “A bond from mating. From sex.”
“Oh.”
Donal looked up to see that the little banfasa had flushed.
Sex was a normal function to every animal on the planet—except humans. Apparently, she’d absorbed their inhibitions.
Being a werecat, he couldn’t resist. “The pink is a good color on her, don’t you think, brawd.”
Tynan winked at him. They both knew that if the word made her flush, the act itself would have her face turning a bright red.
Damned if Donal didn’t want to see if that was true. After a second, he blinked. If…if she was as fine a banfasa as he was starting to think, and if she was as sweet a female as she appeared…perhaps he’d find her during a Gathering. He might well see her turn that color during mating.
He and Tynan might even share the little female. It’d been a long time since they’d enjoyed a female together.
“Where is Lucas? I need my cub.”
Donal recognized Bonnie’s frantic voice and glanced at the cub huddled next to the banfasa. “Margery, you have her pup.”
“Oh, right.” Margery released Tynan’s hand and kissed the top of the cub’s head. “Lucas, let’s get you to your mama.”
The boy had a firm hold on Margery’s shirt, but he whispered, “Mama.”
“Come on, sweetling.” She tried to stand and winced.
Before Donal could move, she released the cub to push herself up with both hands. After getting her balance, she smiled and took Lucas’s hand.
And the pup clung. Because Lucas recognized a caring heart.
I’ve been blind.
He wasn’t blind any longer. Donal glanced around the park at the wounded shifters. “Margery, could you check the injured for me, please? See if they need anything else or need me urgently?”
Her startled expression told him he really had been a boggart before.
Far more polite than he would’ve been, she didn’t give him any grief. “Of course, healer. I’d be happy to check on them.” She led Lucas toward Bonnie.
“She’s limping,” Ben commented.
Tynan frowned. “Her leg wasn’t that bad yesterday.”
“You didn’t see her running like a charging bull to get here.” Thorson joined them. “Made my bones hurt just to see it.”
“She did good to get here when she did. Bonnie was losing blood fast.” Donal motioned to Ben. “Griz, can you pull on Tynan’s leg so I can set it?”
“Aye.” Ben gave Minette over to Thorson, and Donal grinned. The old werecat terrified most adults, especially young males, but the cubs saw through the gruffness and adored the bookstore owner.
As Minette snuggled up to Joe, she watched Donal with an intriguing intensity. Was he going to have a healer apprentice in a few years? Although the God didn’t call females of bearing age to be cahirs, the healers and blademage professions had no such restriction.
Ben gripped Tynan’s leg, one hand above the break, the other on the ankle, and pulled slowly.
Tynan’s back arched, his jaw tight as he muffled what would have been a howl of pain.
Herne’s heart, but it was gut-wrenching to see his littermate hurting.