Got that this time. Ugh. I should have seen it.

“You going to fade into one of your mystery moods while I figure it out for myself?”

Not this time. It would be too dangerous to wait that long. The mood you feel, the whispers you hear, are caused by the nickel jackal idols. They came here fully charged with pain and misery and madness. All that has begun to boil off. Someone did not reseal the box properly.

“Begun? This has been going on since they dragged those things in here. I just didn’t make the connection.” I began to have trouble breathing. But none whatsoever shivering.

No need to get upset.

You can’t breathe, maybe you do need to fuss.

I stared at that damned box. The lid was closed. But it hadn’t been nailed down tight.

A baby cat trotted in, headed my way, bounced, landed in my lap. It made itself at home. But it stared at that box, too. With an intensity suggesting that it saw things invisible to me.

Much better.

“What?”

You are calmer now. Once you are comfortable with it, nail that box shut.

“Sure. I’m a rock.” But he was right. The panic was gone. The whispers had receded. My hands weren’t trembling. “How much longer is this going to last?”

That cannot be predicted. It may become necessary to catch this Kolda and make him tell us about samsom weed. I do not want to deal with flashbacks and seizures indefinitely.

“Yeah? Consider my point of view.”

Ah.

“Ah? Ah, what?”

The rumor of your imminent demise may be about to pay dividends.

“I am on my way,” Singe said, heading for the front door. A moment later I heard Scithe talking, though I couldn’t make out individual words. Singe came back to report. “That was a Watchman. He wanted to know if it was true about you. I said yes. On inspiration, I told him you had been forced to take a poison Teacher White got from somebody named Kolda.”

Idid not cue her, Chuckles informed me. She thought of that herself.

“Good going, Singe. They’ll round them all up.”

Singe puffed up with pride.

No time for patting one another on the back. Garrett, you need to be in bed, dying.

“Block is at the Cardonlos place, eh?”

It seems logical. I believe he is. Mr. Scithe suspects he is, though he has not seen the Colonel. He was sent here because of his ignorance. But he is brighter than they suspect. He believed his real task was to find out if I am awake. He will report that he found nothing suspicions.

Block being Block, that would be suspicious. “They’ll think you messed with his head, then.”

Not amusing. Go be sick.

The being sick part didn’t require much acting. I still had aches in my pains and bruises on my bruises and those were turning colorful. I hadn’t gotten near a razor in modern times. I kept hoping Tinnie would come back and give me a sponge bath. I shivered and shook.

I fell asleep. Which I needed to do. I’d wasted altogether too much time not sleeping.

Tinnie woke me up.

“Oh, hell!”

“Thank you so very much. I’ll just go back home.”

“I wasn’t being… you’re here because you heard I was dying. Somebody from the Watch told you, right?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

They knew she’d been here before. They’d walked her home. They’d visited her before doing anything else.

“And you told them I’d be all right because the Dead Man keeps me breathing.”

“Oh-oh. I goofed.”

“Yep. We wanted to fish Block into coming over here. The Colonel was too clever for us this time.” Did Block know something he was eager to keep to himself? Probably not. He just had a dislike for having his secret mind exposed.

My breathing seemed almost natural. But thinking about Tinnie and sponge baths alerted me that I wouldn’t be living the fantasy anytime soon. “Life is a raging bitch.”

“Dean said you’d be in a bad mood. You haven’t been drinking as much as you should. Water, I mean.”

My, my. She could be right. I was thirsty right then.

I climbed out of bed, rocked dizzily. “Oh.”

“You all right?”

“Dizzy.”

“You’re shaking, too. Is the Dead Man starting to rub off?”

“He’s been contagious lately.” I sat back down. She was right about the shakes. My dizziness didn’t improve. “Maybe you’d better get Dean or Singe to bring some water.”

The dizziness not only did not relent. It got worse. Likewise, the shakes. I felt the Dead Man touch me, concerned. Dean brought water. I sucked a pint down without taking a breath.

You are not supposed to become genuinely sick.

“I guarantee you, it wasn’t in my master plan.”

Tinnie said, “You’re running a fever.”

I collapsed back onto the bed. “This may need to run its course.”

Dean invited himself in. He seemed disappointed not to have caught us in midfrolic. “I brought a pitcher of beer. A rapid pass-through might do some good.”

I gave him the most potent fisheye I could muster while teetering at the brink of unconsciousness.

I drank all the barley soup I could hold. It was prescribed. I did pass out then, shivering, outraged because this had happened to me, now.

Vaguely, I heard Dean opine that I must’ve caught it that night I was out in the weather. Less vaguely, I tried to get the Dead Man’s attention because it might be those damned metal dogs again.

Jackals.

I wakened with a mild headache and a solid, coughing cold well started in my left lung. Tinnie materialized before I got all the way upright. I grumbled, “Aren’t we getting domestic?”

She had thoughts on the matter. She didn’t share. “Drink this.” She’d brought a steaming hot mug of something more fetid than aged swamp water.

“Are there wiggly things in here?”

“Dean forgot to add them. I’ll go get some. Start on this in the meantime.”

I took the mug, held my breath, downed a long draft. Fighting a cough as I did. I don’t get sick often. If I do, Dean usually conjures some effective remedy.

Tinnie didn’t leave. She made like a stern mother forcing her recalcitrant scion to polish off his rutabaga pie.

“Guess the poison and the exposure did me in.”

Tinnie smirked. “Once you’re strong enough, go downstairs. Dean has a steam thing set up.”

A steam thing. I hadn’t been steamed and herbalized since I was a kid. Somebody thought I was on the brink of pneumonia.

“What the hell? This morning I was-”

Miss Tate silenced me with a scowl. “This morning was a different world. You got sick. Fast. In a big way.”

I didn’t collapse when I got up. But my world whirled on its axis. I was in trouble.

The kind of trouble you’re in when a gorgeous redhead gets under your arm and up against you, pretending she’s helping you when she’s actually torturing you with no shred of shame.

I didn’t have much trouble breathing while Tinnie was helping me. Just the opposite.

It looks like the worst may have passed. Which means you will be back to your usual uncouth self before the rest of us adjust.

“I’m hoping, Old Bones. Before this one gets away.”

That earned me an elbow in the ribs. The sore ribs.

“Easy, woman. What’ve you got against compliments?”

“Their artificiality? Their lack of sincerity?”

“I’m a little lame in the brain right now. How does that saying go about sharper than a frog’s fang?”

“Serpent’s tooth. Which you know. Because you haul it out every time somebody disagrees with you.”

“Who could possibly disagree with me? I’m so cute.” I had to sit back down, then lie back down. I’d used me all up.

“Drink some water.”

“You’re awful cranky.”

“I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Sense was setting in. I thought before I spoke. “How long have you been here?”