Luna of Rogues

Part 48 - Cure Hunting

The chains bit into the skin of my wrist, chafing against my existing scars. It itched and it hurt, but it was much better than escaping and starting a killing spree. Rhys made an apologetic face.

"Tighter. I don't want to hurt anyone."

The apology deepened, but he did pull the chain a fraction tighter. Beside me, Fion and Leo had already received a similar treatment. It was a sensible precaution, since we had no idea whether we had ingested any of the drug. Fion said that, half-ground to powder as the pills had been, they could've entered the bloodstream regardless of whether we had thrown them up or spat them out.

It felt unfair. We had realised what was going on, and it might have been too late for us, anyway. It had definitely been too late for Ollie, who was chained to the next tree and still fast asleep. We had bullied a flockie medic into setting up an anaesthetic IV so he couldn't hurt himself.

No sooner had Rhys secured the chain and sat back on his arse than a familiar dark-haired pain in my ass approached. Jace had been doing the rounds of his freshly-turned packlings, and it hadn't taken him long to notice our merry band of outlaws.

"All of you?" he sighed. He made it sound like such an inconvenience — his favourite rogue ally losing her humanity. "Did you manage to throw it up, at least? I have four guys who did that, and only half of them have turned so far."

I grinned humourlessly. "I spat and vomited. The other two swallowed some of it."

"You didn't have any?" he asked my brother, oozing suspicion.

"No," Rhys muttered, "but if I turn, you're welcome to rip my throat out."

Now, if that happened, I had better not turn feral until it was over, because that was a fight I wanted to watch. Rhys and Jace had tussled a few times, to my knowledge, but none of them had ended in clear victory and I had missed all of them, anyway.

"I think turning feral might actually improve you, Llewellyn, but thank you for the invitation nonetheless."

Gallows humour? And ribbing? Jace must have been properly out of sorts. Rhys would have laughed if he hadn't been so worried. As it was, he barely managed a grin. Fion appreciated the joke less — I could hear her heartbeat stutter, and I found her hand and squeezed it, even as Leo was doing for me.

"Do we have a precedent for pregnant females turning?" I asked, since we had no idea what might happen to the pup.

Jace paused, and his eyes darted to my stomach, and I couldn't help smiling a little, even under the circumstances. "No, we do not."

"Oh." I was trying to put on a brave face for Fion, but the chance of a feral pup being carried to term, let alone delivered healthy and sane, seemed ... slim. As a distraction, I added, "Found the piece of shit who poisoned us?"

He nodded. "A human boy. He got to the food before it was even cooked. There were no guards."

I tried not to be annoyed about that. Rogue food stores were always guarded, because we were all thieves, and we were all in a permanent state of hunger. At least we had the culprit. Maybe we could even beat some information out of him.

"Well, if I haven't turned by the end of the hour, I'll want a word with him," I said pleasantly.

"Alright. But it'll have to be quick, because we're negotiating the prisoner exchange for four o'clock."

That gave us three hours. One to wait, and two to gather the raiders and make the poison itself. Fion didn't lodge an immediate protest, so I assumed that would be enough time for her. I nodded, and Jace left rather abruptly. I turned my steely gaze onto my brother next. "You should go with him."