occupants oblivious but for one little girl in a car seat who goggled at us as we zoomed beneath her feet.
Karen slowed slightly as she turned off onto a side street, and after a few twists and turns the boy stopped his recitation. The minivan turned visible again, and she braked as the tires crunched on a gravel driveway in front of a big, barn-red house.
The front door opened, and a couple of teen girls in shorts and halter tops stepped onto the front porch.
Karen rolled down her window and called, “Girls, please clear off the kitchen table and put down one of the medical drops.”
The girls disappeared back into the house as Karen and Jimmy got Jessie out of the backseat. They carried her into the house, through a short hallway into a bright country-style kitchen, and laid Jessie down on a rectangular table covered in a green plastic tablecloth. I hopped off her chest onto the top rung of one of the ladder-back wooden chairs.
“Oh my God, what happened to her?” asked one of the girls, reeking of fear as she stared at Jessie’s burned face and bitten-off arm.
“There was some trouble downtown,” Karen said. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I need you girls to keep the other kids out of here—they’re too young to see this,iñd I need quiet to work on her. There should be juice boxes and snacks in the little fridge in the playroom if anyone wakes up hungry or thirsty.”
Karen opened a nearby cabinet, pulled out a briefcase-sized white medical kit, and opened it on the kitchen counter. “I know this is kind of gruesome, but I need you to help me with this, Jimmy.”
He swallowed, turning a bit green. “Okay...“
From my vantage on the back of the chair, I peered at Karen as she pulled on a pair of disposable latex gloves. She lifted up Jessie’s stump to inspect it. “Can you smell that, Jimmy?”
“Yes.” The boy looked as though he might vomit.
“That burned-hair smell is demon ichor. The rotten-chicken smell is demon venom—it’s full of putrescine and draculins among other things. It causes hemorrhagic fever when it gets in the human bloodstream, only it’s not contagious, fortunately.” Karen turned Jessie’s arm this way and that, the bloody bits of glass gleaming in the soft yellow light. “This is really nasty. I need you to get six extra boxes of gauze, then get the Tupperware box labeled BONE STARTER out of the basement chest freezer.”
“Yes ma’am.” He ran down the hall, clearly relieved that he had been given a reason to leave the kitchen.
Karen got a pair of kidney-shaped plastic pans out of the cabinet along with a squirt bottle of saline. She set one bowl under Jessie’s wounded arm and the other near the girl’s face.
“I’ll have to do this in two stages,” she told me. “The bone won’t grow if there’s still poison in her, so first thing is to get all the demon goo out of her system and make sure she doesn’t have an infection.”
Karen rinsed Jessie’s stump with the saline, then got tweezers and a pair of small, sharp scissors out of the kit. She pulled bits of gravel, glass, and corroded wire from the wound and trimmed away the ragged dead flesh and bone.
“I’m guessing from the smell of the venom that this was some kind of Plagueshadow or maybe a Wutganger?” Karen asked me.
I chirped and nodded from my chair-top perch.
Karen shook her head as she rinsed off the stump again. “I hope you realize that you’re both tremendously lucky to be alive right now.”
I most certainly did, but had no way of easily conveying that, so I mutely watched her work.
A half-grown ginger cat crept into the kitchen, peering up at me curiously. “Are you prey?” the kitten asked.
“No, I am not prey,” I replied sharply. “And I don’t want to play with you, either.”
“Oh.” The kitten looked crestfallen, then looked at Karen. “Will she make me tasty wet food?”
“Not now, kitten.”
“Will you make me wet food?”
“Can’t work
Karen slowed slightly as she turned off onto a side street, and after a few twists and turns the boy stopped his recitation. The minivan turned visible again, and she braked as the tires crunched on a gravel driveway in front of a big, barn-red house.
The front door opened, and a couple of teen girls in shorts and halter tops stepped onto the front porch.
Karen rolled down her window and called, “Girls, please clear off the kitchen table and put down one of the medical drops.”
The girls disappeared back into the house as Karen and Jimmy got Jessie out of the backseat. They carried her into the house, through a short hallway into a bright country-style kitchen, and laid Jessie down on a rectangular table covered in a green plastic tablecloth. I hopped off her chest onto the top rung of one of the ladder-back wooden chairs.
“Oh my God, what happened to her?” asked one of the girls, reeking of fear as she stared at Jessie’s burned face and bitten-off arm.
“There was some trouble downtown,” Karen said. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I need you girls to keep the other kids out of here—they’re too young to see this,iñd I need quiet to work on her. There should be juice boxes and snacks in the little fridge in the playroom if anyone wakes up hungry or thirsty.”
Karen opened a nearby cabinet, pulled out a briefcase-sized white medical kit, and opened it on the kitchen counter. “I know this is kind of gruesome, but I need you to help me with this, Jimmy.”
He swallowed, turning a bit green. “Okay...“
From my vantage on the back of the chair, I peered at Karen as she pulled on a pair of disposable latex gloves. She lifted up Jessie’s stump to inspect it. “Can you smell that, Jimmy?”
“Yes.” The boy looked as though he might vomit.
“That burned-hair smell is demon ichor. The rotten-chicken smell is demon venom—it’s full of putrescine and draculins among other things. It causes hemorrhagic fever when it gets in the human bloodstream, only it’s not contagious, fortunately.” Karen turned Jessie’s arm this way and that, the bloody bits of glass gleaming in the soft yellow light. “This is really nasty. I need you to get six extra boxes of gauze, then get the Tupperware box labeled BONE STARTER out of the basement chest freezer.”
“Yes ma’am.” He ran down the hall, clearly relieved that he had been given a reason to leave the kitchen.
Karen got a pair of kidney-shaped plastic pans out of the cabinet along with a squirt bottle of saline. She set one bowl under Jessie’s wounded arm and the other near the girl’s face.
“I’ll have to do this in two stages,” she told me. “The bone won’t grow if there’s still poison in her, so first thing is to get all the demon goo out of her system and make sure she doesn’t have an infection.”
Karen rinsed Jessie’s stump with the saline, then got tweezers and a pair of small, sharp scissors out of the kit. She pulled bits of gravel, glass, and corroded wire from the wound and trimmed away the ragged dead flesh and bone.
“I’m guessing from the smell of the venom that this was some kind of Plagueshadow or maybe a Wutganger?” Karen asked me.
I chirped and nodded from my chair-top perch.
Karen shook her head as she rinsed off the stump again. “I hope you realize that you’re both tremendously lucky to be alive right now.”
I most certainly did, but had no way of easily conveying that, so I mutely watched her work.
A half-grown ginger cat crept into the kitchen, peering up at me curiously. “Are you prey?” the kitten asked.
“No, I am not prey,” I replied sharply. “And I don’t want to play with you, either.”
“Oh.” The kitten looked crestfallen, then looked at Karen. “Will she make me tasty wet food?”
“Not now, kitten.”
“Will you make me wet food?”
“Can’t work
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