Mary slowly straightened, letting Rhage’s alter ego see the child. “She’s okay. Come on, investigate for yourself.”
The massive head of the monster lowered slowly, as if it didn’t want to spook the little girl, and as Mary backed off, the muzzle snuffled over Bitty. Worried sounds of inquiry came out, part nervous purr, part aching chest rattle.
Bitty lifted her hand up and stroked the purple-scaled cheek. “I’m okay.…”
Her voice was surprisingly strong, and then she smiled, as if the room wasn’t a wreck, and people weren’t scared to death, and she hadn’t been through torture.
Mary put her palm on the bulging neck of the beast, feeling the muscle and the power. “It’s all right … shh … that’s right, snuffle over her.…”
Without moving her head or even eyes, she whispered to Havers, “Tell me you got the bone reset.”
In her peripheral vision, she saw the male straighten his hornrimmed glasses, which had gone cockeyed and a half. “I’m s-s-sorry—what?”
“The bone,” Mary repeated in the same quiet, even tone. “Did you do what you needed to?”
“Y-y-yes, I believe … yes. I n-n-n-need an X-ray to confirm.”
“Okay, let’s not try to do that now.”
The nurses clutched together even tighter, as if they were afraid of their boss challenging that.
“I … no,” he said, “I agree it would not be advisable the now. Permit me to inquire—how long … ah, how long does he …?”
“It all depends. But we’re going nowhere until Rhage comes back.”
Bitty and the beast were still communicating with touch and sound, and as far as Mary was concerned, considering the distress that the girl had been in, the two of them could spend the next six hours together and the rest of the adults in the room were just going to have to suck it up.
On that note, Mary glanced around and winced. This was going to run into some money, she thought, as she checked out the ruined floor, the battered ceiling, the debris field of glass-front cabinets. But then she looked back at her hellren and her little girl. The beast was a big part of their non-linear, freaky family, and deserved to be counted— The door opened a crack, and then Lassiter, in his game gear, stepped inside the room. As he held something out, Mary couldn’t see what it was— Wait a minute, was that a Snickers bar?
“What are you doing?” she blurted as he cautiously approached.
The beast snapped to attention, its jowls curling up in a snarl at the angel. But Lassiter was undaunted—so not a shocker.
“Here,” he said. “Have a Snickers. You’re not yourself when you’re hangry.”
There was a heartbeat of a pause. And then she couldn’t help it.
She had to start laughing. “Really. Really?”
And it was funny, as Lassiter looked over at her, his expression behind the open grille of the hockey mask was goofy—yet his eyes were anything but. That pupil-less, glowing stare was dead serious, offering her a kind of lifeline through the painful reality that she loved a child who had been horribly mistreated and that was something she was going to have to deal with for the rest of her days.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the angel as the beast reached out and sniffed at the brown wrapper.
“G’head,” Lassiter said to the dragon. “Take it.”
And what do you know, with a precision that was impressive given the dagger-size of those chompers, Rhage’s alter ego took the tiny little candy bar between its front teeth and munched it down.
A split second later, there was a poof! and Rhage was naked and shivering on the floor.
“Am I good or what!” Lassiter proclaimed. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah.”
Rhage came back from the far side of Beast World blind, freezing cold, and in an absolute panic. As he flailed around on a floor that seemed slippery, he was petrified there was blood everywhere—but no, he didn’t scent any carnage. What he did smell was electrical burning, plaster, and astringent, and he was dimly aware that he wasn’t nauseous, which was another good indicator that he hadn’t eaten anyone— Wait, why did he taste peanut and chocolate? And something plastic-y?
“Mary …!” he called out into the darkness. “Bitty—”
“Everyone’s okay.” Mary’s voice was close to him and utterly calm. “Everything’s all right.…”
As her hand smoothed over his forehead and brushed through his hair, he mumbled, “Bitty?”
“I’m right here, Father. The beast just wanted to make sure I was sorted.…”
Rhage exhaled—and then realized he was lying on a bunch of debris. And there was rain hitting his face?
Oh, God, how in the hell had the beast fit into the exam room? It wasn’t like the damn thing could ratchet down on its size.
Talking. Footsteps. A light weight being drawn over his lower body. A loud scraping noise like some big piece of a wall or the ceiling or part of a tall cabinet was being moved out of the way. Meanwhile, all he could do was lie there like a planker, drowning in a pool of aches and frustration.
It fucking sucked.
Vishous’s voice came up close. “My brother, we’re going to put you on a stretcher, okay? Then get you out of here. Fritz is coming in the Mercedes because we can’t fit you in the GTO as easy.”
Fuck me, Rhage thought. He was so fucking tired of this shit.
Bitty had needed him, and what had he offered her? A fucking mess. What the fuck had made him feel like he could be a father? He couldn’t— “I want to go with him,” Bitty said.
Doc Jane spoke up. “We need to set your limbs, sweetheart.”
“I’ll wait!” Rhage barked. “I want to wait!”
Bitty’s voice grew strident. “Put the casts on and we’ll go. But we want to be together.”
Rhage closed his lids even though it didn’t change how much he couldn’t see. The last thing the girl needed to worry about was him— “You got it, Bit,” Vishous affirmed. “That’s why I asked for Fritz to come.”
“I have to take care of my father.”
“Of course you do.” Vishous was talking in as gentle a way as he ever did. “And you got it right, kid. He’ll do better with you.”
No, Rhage thought. He was supposed to support Bitty.
This was a total fucking nightmare.
But at least things moved fairly quickly after that. Havers cleared a path and rolled in a portable X-ray machine, and the image confirmed the thighbone was where it needed to be. Then there was a flour-and-water kind of smell as fiberglass casts were put on both of Bit’s legs and her arms. Rhage refused to leave her, staying on the hard wet floor until everything was dealt with.
And then they were off.
Bit had a wheelchair. He was a slab of meat on a gurney. And the grim entourage of Z, V, and Lassiter fell in step behind Mary.
Talk about the halt and the lame.
“Hey, Rhage?” Lassiter said softly.
“What?” he mumbled.
“If your career as a trained killer doesn’t work out? Don’t go into interior design. You don’t have a knack for it.”
Rhage had to laugh. “You are such a fucker.”