IT WAS THE BIRDS that woke me in the morning, chirping all too happily in the dappled sunlight. I blinked, disoriented. This wasn’t the hospital, and yet it felt familiar ... The day before came rushing back to me, and I sat up, my heart thumping and my mind on instant alert. I’d been passed out, so exhausted that anyone could have snuck up on us and I wouldn’t have heard. I cast my mind around, as far as I could, but I didn’t pick up a single blip of power. I sagged back in relief.

The air was cool, and I kicked myself for falling asleep before I had the chance to make a fire. Rafe might have been freezing. I hopped up and tiptoed to the door of the bedroom, but he was still asleep, the covers moving up and down in a reassuring rhythm.

It didn’t take long to find the woodpile and build up a good blaze. Once it was going, I brought in the bags of food I’d left in the car overnight and put everything away. There wasn’t much, but it would see us through until it was safe for me to make a trip to the nearest town for groceries.

I took advantage of Rafe’s silence and showered. His clothes from the day before were still on the bathroom floor, rolled up in a ball. I tossed them out into the hallway along with my own clothes. I’d found a drawer full of women’s clothing, and while most of it was too big for me, it would do while I washed everything else.

Clean, with a towel wrapped around my hair and wearing an oversized skirt and t-shirt, I picked up the pile of dirty clothes and went out to the washing machine in the lean-to. Some wonderful person had left a bottle of detergent, and I dumped everything in, along with our towels.

When I went back inside, there was a different vibe, and I knew Rafe was awake. I stuck my head in the bedroom door.

“So, how are you feeling?”

He stirred, his eyes meeting mine. “Okay, I guess.”

“Sorry if you got cold last night. I was more tired than I thought, and I passed out without getting a fire going. It’s good now, though. And it’ll probably be warmer today. Are you hungry?”

He made a noise I couldn’t interpret. “I could eat.”

“Great. I can’t cook at all, but there’s some bread. And peanut butter. Oh, and some jelly, too.”

Rafe shook his head. “Whatever. Could I get some water?”

“Sure.” I pulled a water bottle from the fridge and brought it back, studying him as I approached the bed. He looked a little less tired; his eyes were not quite as shadowed. I unscrewed the lid of the bottle and handed it to him.

“Thanks ... ummm ...” He took a swig, eyes closed, and then set the bottle on the night table. “So are you going to tell me your name? You never did last night.”

“No, I didn’t.” I sat on the edge of the bed near his feet. “I did say it, though, when I first saw you yesterday. You must have just forgotten, in all the-running-for-our-lives. Not to mention the passing out and driving for freaking ever. Or maybe when we shared energy so I could project.” I was babbling, saying anything to keep from answering his question about my name.

“Yeah, that was wild.” Rafe pushed himself to a sitting position, maneuvering the pillows behind his back. “What was it?”

“I don’t know for sure.” I clasped my hands around my knees. “Like I said, that was new. I always used blood for projecting before, and then yesterday, Cathryn and Zoe helped me. Zoe called it boosting my power. But it wasn’t like with you, with the glowing ... and everything was much clearer yesterday, too. The only thing I can think is that because we’re both from First Families, there might be some deeper connection.”

Absorbed in my theory, I didn’t pay attention to what I was saying until I saw the look of confusion on Rafe’s face. Shit.

“What’s your name?” His voice was quiet, almost deadly calm.

“Nell Massler.” There wasn’t any sense in prevaricating. He had to find out at some point. I never cared what anyone thought of me, ever, but somehow, now, Rafe’s opinion of me mattered. A lot.

Recognition and recollection dawned in his eyes, and he recoiled from me. “Nell Massler? As in, the witch who tried to kill Tasmyn? From King? What the fuck?”

He was struggling to get out of bed, to get away from me, and I closed my eyes, fighting back the anger and the power that wanted lash out and show him who Nell Massler really was.

“Rafe, calm down. I can imagine what you’ve heard about me, but I’m really only here to help you. I do work for Carruthers. I didn’t lie about anything.”

“You didn’t tell me you were Nell-fucking-Massler. You’re supposed to be in a mental hospital. Away from people.”

They hurt, the words did, probably more than they should have. After all, he only spoke the truth. But hearing them from his mouth was hard.

“I was. And then I was in a coma for over a year. But Cathryn and Zoe woke me up to save your life.”

“Coma?” His eyes narrowed. “Why were you in a coma?”

I looked over his shoulder at the pillow. “I had to do something, and it took more out of me than I had thought. I guess I needed the rest.”

“What did you have to do? Were you trying to hurt Tas again?”

“No! For God’s sake, no. I wanted to help her. I projected to Marica’s house that last day. It was an involved process, and it knocked me out. For a year. Well, a little more than that.”

He stared at me. “That’s the truth?”

“It is.” I stood up. “And when Cathryn needed someone she could count on to save your life, she woke me up and here I am. Here we are. Now, unless you have any more questions, I’m going to go make your breakfast.”

I stalked out of the bedroom with what was left of my dignity. What did it matter what Rafe Brooks thought of me? He was a job, nothing more. He could hate me to hell and back as far as I cared.

I slapped a knife full of peanut butter and a spoonful of jelly on two pieces of bread, put them together and slammed the concoction onto a plate. When I got back into the bedroom, I dropped it onto Rafe’s lap.

“Bon appetite.” I wheeled back around.

“Nell? Hey, wait a minute.”

I stopped in the doorway, but I didn’t face him again.

“I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions about you. I don’t know who you are, really. I heard stuff from Tasmyn and Amber—oh, and Cara, too. But you got me out of the camp, and if you say you work for Carruthers, I have to believe you.”

“Believe me or not, I don’t care. My job is to keep you alive and get you back to Harper Creek. You don’t have to like me or trust me for that to happen. But you need to do what I say. So eat up.”

I left before he could say anything else, slamming the cabin door behind me and heading for the washing machine. The clothes were finished, and I found a bag of clothespins on the line. I pinned them up and stomped back into the house.

Taking advantage of my indignation-fueled energy, I ripped the sheets off the rest of the furniture and carried them all outside to wash. When I went inside again, I found the tote of cleaning supplies and tackled the kitchen and the bathroom, scrubbing and mopping until everything smelled fresh and clean.

I’d never cleaned, done laundry or cooked a day in my life, yet today I’d done all three. Well, if making a peanut butter sandwich counted as cooking, which in my world, it absolutely did. Yeah, Nell Massler was turning over a new leaf.

I avoided Rafe’s room until nearly two o’clock, when I began to feel guilty for ignoring him. I stuck my head in the bedroom.

“Hey, you hungry again? I have a couple of cans of soup I think I can manage to not burn.”

Rafe stirred under the covers, but he didn’t answer. I stepped inside, noting the crumb-covered plate and empty water bottle sitting on the night stand.

“Rafe? You sleeping?” Yeah, a dumb question, as he lay there, not answering me.

“Hey.” I reached out to shake his shoulder, bare where the sheet had ridden down. But when I touched his skin, it radiated heat, more than just the shock of power I’d felt before. He was burning up. I tugged the comforter away from his face, and my heart plummeted when I saw it was flushed.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Rafe.” I did shake him this time, and he blinked at me, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

“Joss?” He mumbled her name, and I dropped my hand and stepped back. He shifted again, rolling to his back. I could hear the rattle in his chest and see the shuddering effort of his breath.

“Oh my God, Rafe.” I ran my hands back over my hair, pulling it as I tried to think. It must be pneumonia. Didn’t people with pneumonia have high fevers and sound like they couldn’t breathe? Rafe had mentioned some broken ribs, but those wouldn’t cause symptoms like he was having. Unless they punctured his lung. Which would have happened earlier, and he would have noticed. I thought, anyway.

I ran back to the living room and dug out the bag that held the medical supplies I’d bought yesterday. There was a bottle of ibuprofen, and I knew that would help with fever if I could get him to take it. Other than that ... nothing. I was fairly certain pneumonia required antibiotics, and strangely enough, they didn’t sell those at gas station mini-marts.

I took a deep breath and calmed my mind. First things first. I took a bottle of water from the fridge and carried it, along with three ibuprofen, into the bedroom.

“Rafe, you’ve got to sit up. Come on now, just a little bit.” I slid my hand under his back, blanching at the heat there. Rafe moaned again and fought me as I tried to lift him.

“Rafe. You have to take this medicine. Open your eyes and sit up just a little, or so help me ...” I couldn’t think of a threat strong enough. What was I going to do, call his grandmother? I didn’t even have a phone.

His eyes half-opened, and I held the bottle in front of his face. “See? Water. Time to have a drink.”

His lips parted a little, and I took advantage of that to stick the pills into his mouth. I held the rim of the bottle to his lips and poured it in.

“Swallow. Come on, Rafe. Swallow the water.”

He did finally, drinking it down in three large gulps. I lay him back down and recapped the bottle.

“Joss.” He spoke again, this time his eyes seeking me out. “Please.” The pleading in his voice almost broke my heart. “Don’t go. I’ll take care of you. Don’t ...” He ended on a half-sob, and I couldn’t help myself. I sat down on the edge of bed, right next to him, and I touched his cheek with my palm, steeling myself for the flare.

“It’s all right, Rafe. You’re going to be okay. I won’t leave you.” I kept my tone low and reassuring. With one last shudder, he sank back into the pillow and subsided. I was about to stand up again when his hand came up and covered mine on his cheek. He murmured something and turned his face to press his lips into my palm. A new sensation sizzled up my arm. It was as strong as the other buzz I’d felt when touching Rafe, but there was an added component of ... sweetness. Something nearly unfamiliar to me, and yet I remembered the feeling.

He thinks I’m Joss, I reminded myself, and then had to ask why that mattered. I had a job to do, and keeping Rafe alive was it. Throwing my little temper snit this morning and ignoring him may have cost me valuable time in doing that job. If I had checked on him sooner ... maybe ...

I eased my hand away, and this time, Rafe let it go. He rolled to his side again and seemed to sink deeper into sleep.

The way I figured it, I had two battles to fight. I had to try to bring down his fever, and I had to make sure he could breathe easily. I didn’t really know how I could do either of those things, other than keep him hydrated and give him more ibuprofen. My medical training was non-existent. I only knew what I’d seen on television or read in books.

Which reminded me. Didn’t they sometimes put feverish patients into a bath? I couldn’t manage that with Rafe, but ...

I went back to the kitchen, found a basket of rags and soaked them in cold water. I put them into a bowl and carried them into the bedroom, wringing one out before I positioned it over Rafe’s forehead.

It was so hot, I nearly expected to hear a sizzle, but he didn’t even flinch as the cold water hit his skin. I went back to the living room to pace and think.

If only I had a computer, or a phone, or anything that would let me access the internet. I could look up how to take care of someone with pneumonia. Or I’d call Cathryn and ask her what to do. But no, here we were, out in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no one to help.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in a blur for me. I alternated between sitting at Rafe’s bedside, changing out the cool cloths on his forehead and forcing water down his throat whenever his eyes opened, and stalking back and forth across the living room floor, wracking my brain for anything that might help him.

The later it became, the worse Rafe seemed to get. I vaguely remembered hearing once that fevers tended to get worse at night. I couldn’t remember why, any more than I could remember what to do to make them go away. I dosed him with more fever reducer at eight o’clock, and sometime between then and eleven, I fell asleep, leaning over him on the bed.

He was muttering in his sleep again, which was what awoke me. This time, it wasn’t Joss; he was arguing with Tasmyn, talking about Marica and railing at her about something I couldn’t understand.

“Another trip down memory lane with Rafe’s old girlfriends.” I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck where it was stiff from my sleeping position. The cloth had slipped from his head, and it was warm again, anyway. I replaced it with a new one and stood to stretch.

The bed began to shake as Rafe was abruptly struck with a chill, his body shivering as he tried to draw his arms and legs in as tight as possible. I cursed and took away the cool cloth, wondering if that had kicked off this new symptom or if it were just another manifestation of the fever itself.

He didn’t seem to be able to get warm. In desperation, I climbed into the bed with him and plastered my body to his, pulling the covers up over us both to make as much heat as possible. That seemed to work, as he stopped shaking and relaxed a little more. I closed my eyes, and I came as close to praying for help as I had in a long time.

Rafe and I both spent a fitful night. I dosed him with meds every four hours, and I wiped down his face with cold water each time. I managed to make him drink another bottle of water. But the fever just kept coming back, and I was afraid his breathing was worse.

He had another attack of chills in the early morning light, and I climbed under the covers with him again. When I opened my eyes, the living room was full of sunshine. I knew it had to be nearly mid-morning.

I left Rafe sleeping in relative peace and went to use the bathroom, wash my face and wander helplessly around the small cabin. I caught sight of yesterday’s laundry, still on the clothes line blowing in the wind. I had never taken it in. A quick glance at Rafe told me he was asleep, so I ran outside to take down the clothes and bring them inside.

I carried Rafe’s clean t-shirt and jeans into the bedroom and was just laying them in a dresser drawer when I heard a sound behind me. Rafe had rolled to his back, and his breath was coming in such short puffs and with such struggle that the entire bed was shaking.

I stood, staring at him, trying so hard to breathe. This same boy, this guy I’d seen in person for the first time only the day before, who didn’t want to live anymore, was fighting damn hard to hold onto life. His mouth was open and his head thrown back, as though the air he sought was just a little bit above his reach.

There was nothing I could do to help him. I wanted to scream, and I wanted to hit something. Possibly someone. Had I rescued Rafe from that camp only to watch him die up here in the mountains? And it would be a more horrific death than Mallory Jones’ quick strike would have been, I was sure. If I knew there was a doctor somewhere around here, I’d take him in, but I had no idea where the nearest practice was. It could have been hours away, and driving Rafe that far was impossible at this point.

I couldn’t bear to watch him suffer. I turned on my heel and opened the front door. I stood for a moment on the porch, staring into the trees and wishing for an answer, any answer at all.

“Well, hey there, young lady! I haven’t seen anyone in this old place for a long time.”

It felt as though I jumped a foot in the air. My heart thumped wildly, and my hands clenched the porch rail. I glanced around for any possible weapon, but the old man who approached me didn’t seem threatening. The smile he wore was downright brilliant.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was taking my daily walk, and I always cut across here, by this property. I’d ask the owners if it were okay, but like I said, the cabin always sits empty. Until today.” He wasn’t very tall, and his hair was totally white. He wore it a little longer than most men his age, brushing the top of his shoulders. His face was a map of wrinkles, but his eyes were kind.

“Yeah, we just got in ... last night.” I watched the man carefully. He checked out as not possessing any powers, although I got a weird sort of feeling from him. He wasn’t exactly blocking me, but I couldn’t get a sense of him. There was simply a lovely calm, just what I needed in the middle of my current freak-out.

“That’s just fine, isn’t it. A little vacation, huh?”

“I guess you might say that.” I stood stiff, not trusting myself to move.

“I took a vacation just once in my life, before I retired, that is. Me and the wife went to Nashville, so she could see her favorite singers there. She was a little star-struck, for sure. She would have gone back every year, if I’d let her. Of course, a doctor’s life doesn’t give him much chance for vacations.”

His words knocked around my brain for a few seconds before they sunk in. And then I practically screamed at the poor man.

“Doctor? You’re a doctor?” I leaned across the railing. “My friend who’s here with me is really, really sick. I think he has pneumonia. I’ve been trying to keep him comfortable, get the fever down, but I’m pretty sure he’s getting worse. I don’t know any place to take him to see a doctor or go to a hospital, but even if I did, I don’t think he’d make it.” I met his blue eyes with mine. “Please, do you have antibiotics you could give him? Or anything else I could do to help him?”

The man studied me, his face lined with compassion. “I don’t have any medicine like that, for sure. I’m sorry. But honey, I’ve been treating people since a long time back, and I’ve beat more cases of pneumonia than most doctors see in a lifetime. It might be that I could help you out. Mind if I take a look at the patient?”

For the length of a heartbeat, I hesitated, and then I nodded. “Sure. He’s in the bedroom. Come on in.” If this man turned out to be a spy for Mallory Jones’ group, the worst he was going to do was kill Rafe and then me. Rafe was already headed that way, I was afraid, and if he didn’t make it, I was thinking I didn’t want to, either. So we had nothing to lose.

The man climbed the porch, breathing hard and muttering about old bones and creaking bodies.

“I don’t suppose you’re any relation to the Bradors, are you? They’re the family who own this place, or they did.”

I nodded. “I’m related. That was—they were—or are, I guess, my mother’s family.”

“Ah, fine, fine.” He allowed me to lead him into the bedroom, and I stepped aside. “This is Rafe. He started with the fever yesterday morning, and it got bad fast. The chills began last night, and then this thing with his breathing ...”

The doctor looked down at Rafe, his head tilted. He took hold of his wrist, taking his pulse, I supposed, and then he knelt down on the floor and laid his ear against the heaving chest. I watched as he moved his ear from spot to spot, his expression grave.

Finally he rose. “I’d have to say you’re right, young lady. Sounds like pneumonia to me. Pretty bad case, too.” He saw my face and hastened on. “But don’t you fret. I told you, I beat pneumonia. I have some medicines, some natural remedies that should help ease his breathing and make him more comfortable. I live just the next cabin over the hill, so I’ll run home and get what we need.”

I thought for a minute. “I have a car. You can use it, if it’ll be faster.”

He shook his head. “No, as these hills go, the way the crow flies is the best way to get around. I have a path that leads up to my front door. You just sit put for a minute and I’ll be back.” He began walking out but stopped and stood before me.

“By the way, I’m Eli Alva. Folks here just call me Dr. Eli, or Doc.” He stuck out a hand.

I took his hand, grateful for the firm grip. “I’m Nell. Nice to meet you, Dr. Eli.”

***