Cringing at the sounds of gastro-misery coming out of his friend, Nick waited by the sinks until Caleb was through. Pale and shaking, Caleb stumbled out a few minutes later. Man, he felt bad for the demon.
Nick turned the water on for him and stood aside while Caleb washed up. “You gonna make it?”
Before Caleb could answer, his knees buckled.
Seriously concerned, Nick caught him up against his side. “Caleb?” Kody was right. He was burning with a fever so severe, it radiated through his clothes. “Can you hear me?”
He started babbling in demonkyn. Something about fields and planting? It was so off and made no sense whatsoever. Why would a daeve warrior demon care about planting a field?
“Caleb!” Nick barked. “Dude! I need you to hang with me. C’mon. Don’t do this. I need you lucid.”
It was useless. Caleb had checked out and taken the bill with him.
Had the ghost rider in the hallway caused this? It didn’t seem possible, but what else could have done it? He’d been fine earlier.
Biting his lip, Nick debated what to do. Who to go to for help.
One thing was clear. No one else in their school needed to know about this. Nor did they need to witness Caleb speaking in tongues. They might start asking awkward questions about what language it was. Why Caleb knew it.
Or worse, they could discover Caleb’s and Nick’s less-than-human origins. While most of their private parochial school was human, there were enough preternaturals here to make it real uncomfortable for Nick’s small group. Especially when it came to the staff clergy, who might want them exorcized.
Or worse…
Expelled.
For that matter, while there were humans here who knew about and protected the other preters at the school, none of them were aware that they had a small demon population, and they really wanted to keep it that way.
The fewer who knew about Nick and Caleb, the better. Since most people assumed every species of demon was evil and all they wanted was to throw holy water on them and banish them straight to hell, no good could come of anyone knowing about them. The last thing Nick wanted was that kind of negative attention and stereotyping. He had a hard enough time with puberty and dating. No need to toss this into the mix, too, and have Sister Katherine following them around with her rosary and thurible.
As with humanity, demons came in all breeds and kinds, and they chose which side of the fight they wanted to be on. For now, he and Caleb were firmly rooted on the right side, and they both planned to stay here no matter what.
But because people had a nasty tendency to attack without question, they wouldn’t believe that about them. He accepted and respected the fact that demons had a bad rep. Most had earned it, yet Nick didn’t want to be judged by those who’d come before him.
He was here to make his own way in this world. And he would be saved or condemned by the choices he, alone, made. Not for the deeds of others.
Yet that was neither here nor there. Right now, his main concern was what to do for Caleb. How best to protect and help his friend.
Nick glanced around to make sure no one else was in the bathroom with them before he flashed them to Caleb’s house. It was the only safe place he could take Caleb to heal where neither his nor Caleb’s enemies could get to him.
“Zavid!”
The Aamon demon who lived with Caleb, Zavid, appeared at his side immediately, then stepped back as soon as he saw Caleb’s weakened condition, and heard his babbling. Like Caleb, Zavid had dark hair and the kind of build and good looks that left Nick feeling without. “What did you do to him, Malachai?”
“Nothing. He got sick.”
That didn’t help Zavid’s attitude toward Nick. If anything, he only became more suspicious. “We don’t get sick.”
Caleb began coughing up blood, maybe even a kidney from the sounds of it, as he staggered away. He only made it as far as the stairs before he sat down and leaned against the wall.
Nick cringed at how awful his friend looked. Those were deep, bronchial coughs like Nick used to get when he was a kid. He had no idea what to do for him. He seriously doubted an inhaler would help. “I feel like I ought to make you chicken soup or something.”
His breathing labored, Caleb stared at him. “How does anyone stand this?”
“Usually? With a great deal of whining and begging for my mom to come baby me.”
Zavid scowled. “This isn’t a joke? He really is sick?”
“Yeah.”
Zavid glanced from Nick to Caleb and back again. “Not injured? Sick?”
“Sick,” Nick repeated.
Arms akimbo, Zavid stood in a state of utter disbelief as Caleb sat on the stairs with his head in his hands. “How is this possible?”
“No idea. Isn’t there a demon doctor or something I can take him to? What do you guys do when you get ill?”
“We. Don’t. Get. Sick.” Zavid enunciated each word slowly. “Ever. We get injured. We get ticked off. We get dead. We never get sick.”
Nick gestured at Caleb. “Obviously, you’ve been misinformed.”