I didn’t wake up so much as fade in and out of consciousness to witness occasional images or sounds until eventually I found thoughts entering my mind once more. My body ached, the burning sensation gone but a dull agony through my entire being, and I tried sitting up before a hand pushed me back into the bed. A groan escaped my lips, grabbing for the arm attached, and a few fingers bapped me on the forehead even as my vision slowly came back.

  Everything was dark, though my eyes could still barely make out the few sights around us in that night. The bed was soft, there was a heavy blanket over me, and I was still freezing cold as I laid there helplessly. There was a needle in my arm, it was hooked up to a stand with a bag hanging on it, and a thick fabric cuff was wrapped around my other arm. The wall was green — no, blue — and the drywall old and cracked, the ceiling a stained white. Slanted like we were in an attic.

  I was in an attic.

  “Where am I?” I asked, certain that none of the words sounded like they were actually supposed to beyond a passing resemblance in cadence.

  “You’re safe,” a voice said, sounding like it was coming from across a home as I felt a cold wet towel draped across my forehead. I tried sitting up again, and I was pushed down once more as I heard the man say, his voice now familiar, “if you don’t fucking rest I will tie you down and keep you fucking sedated until next week, am I understood?”

  I stayed still, closing my eyes as I felt a ringing in my ears, and I tried to keep a little focused even as my mind screamed for sleep. The air smelled familiar, moldy and old, and I wasn’t sure why it seemed so familiar even as I pushed past that to what else I recognized. The man smelled familiar, but not so familiar that I could put a name to his face.

  Strong cleaners, something like plastic, car oil, a bit of blood, horses, plenty of sweat, and his own scents under it.

  I had a feeling I was responsible for some of those smells, but I tried pushing past that as I felt him pat my cheek and say, “open your eyes.”

  Not wanting to argue I did, and I was greeted by a flashlight shined directly into my eyes as he moved it back and forth. Seemingly happy with the results, he let out a grunt of affirmation and moved down to my legs. My vision was still stars, and I felt the blanket pulled up around my waist as something hit against each of my knees.

  “Raise your arms, wiggle your fingers and toes in a short pattern,” the man ordered, and I did so without energy to argue while he watched me for a moment before declaring, “yeah, you’re going to be fine.”

  “Was there any doubt about it?” I asked, once more trying to sit up before once more being pushed down.

  “Melted silver can end up getting stuck between blood vessels, if it doesn’t get into the bloodstream,” the man said, even as I still struggled to figure out where I’d heard him before in my foggy state. “Cools down away from blood once it cooks you enough, stays there slowly soaking into your body until it stops the heart and brain. Symptoms start fast though, fucks with the eyes, reaction times, dexterity, all that.”

  “Cool, cool, cool,” I muttered, nodding a moment as I blinked a few times and turned my head to look at the rest of the room.

  With the familiar angle to the slant of the ceilings and the general shape of it, it only took me a few seconds to recognize the room as the Covenant house attic. A bedroom, it was outfitted with exercise equipment, a bed, a couch and tv, bookshelves mostly of old file boxes, a desk with no computer but plenty more papers. An old wardrobe was against one wall, and a staircase near another went down into the rest of the house. A few windows rested in different parts, a circular one here, a few square ones where the front of the house was, and through them I could see it was night.

  The man was tall and lithe, looking annoyed, exhausted, and disheveled all in one with a five o’clock shadow and short cut gray-tinged black hair. He was wearing a pair of jeans and black button-down, with the top few buttons undone, half-showing off what might have been a tattoo underneath. I took a moment to recognize him, and by the time I did Samuel was looking down at me with his judging brown eyes.

  “You know,” he started, letting out a small sigh, “if I had a quarter for every time I pulled an unconscious girl covered in blood-painted runes out of a horse barn, I’d be able to buy a milkshake and some fries. Which is actually a good chunk of money for counting in quarters, and makes me wonder why I am always the one dealing with this.”

  “Sorry,” I said, not sure what else to do as I watched as the man walked over to something by my head and started opening drawers.

  Samuel was another werewolf of the Covenant, one I hadn’t had much chance to meet or talk to. I hung out with Tara’s pack often, pretty much every day for breakfast and sometimes went places with them. They were my friends, and we got along.

  Samuel’s pack I had almost no interaction with, as much as they were away from the house and little I knew them. My former mentor, Misha, had been in the pack before he got kicked out for reasons I wasn’t sure on the details of, but that was before I’d been here. If we were being honest, this was probably the most words we’d even said to one another in one sitting, and not just asking to be handed things.

  “How did you find me?” I asked weakly, frowning at the realization.

  “The Lady pinged your location, my pack made sure the area was clear while I got you here,” Samuel said, coming back to the bed as he sat a small box down and put a few pills in my hand alongside a bottle of water. “Knives’ car is in a junkyard getting dismantled, they’re mad about that but The Lady is smoothing things over. I got your stuff, it’s just over there, cleaned your jacket off, got your other clothes washed and dried, managed to get the stains out and fixed the holes I could between treating you.”

  I nodded, a little confused even as I took the pills and downed them with some water. Samuel watched, and afterwards made me open my mouth and shined his flashlight in to make sure I’d swallowed. It was fucking stupid, and I wanted to call him out for treating me like a child even as I asked, “why did The Lady send you? Was no one else able to come?”

  “Me and my pack do some light work for her on occasion,” the man said, shrugging at the thought, “she sends us out to investigate small shit every now and then. Usually turns out to be nothing, but we get a per diem for that and a pretty good pay for when we work. I’ll take it over getting shot like you did.”

  “I wasn’t on the job,” I said, tossing off the blanket as I looked down at myself.

  I was naked, which wasn’t a surprise; I would have been when he found me, though the blood and mud had been washed off me at least. Both of my legs were bandaged, as was the lower part of my torso, and a bruise extended past the gauze up to my breast that worried me a little. Silver wounds took longer to heal, but seeing a bruise like that meant they’d done a lot more damage than I thought going in and out.

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  Samuel rolled his eyes, muttering in annoyance about something, and pulled the blanket back over me as he said, “bed rest, Mary. Dignity aside, you were just shot yesterday, by silver I might add, you’re fucking lucky you’re alive.”

  “I have a lot I need to do,” I tried saying, shaking my head at the thought, “look, I used some rune magic, won’t heal as fast as lead would, but it’ll heal faster than weeks. I’ll be good by tomorrow afternoon, the day after at worst. It’s not going to hurt me to move around.”

  “I don’t care,” the man said, standing straight as he folded his arms over his chest, “The Lady put me in charge of your recovery, I get to decide when you’re healed. Silver wounds are tricky, rune magic just speeds the healing along, and it can still heal wrong.”

  “Look, what makes you fucking qualified?”

  “I'm an RN and work in a hospital,” the man answered with a dull glare, and yeah I had to give that to him he was probably qualified, “and The Lady said I get to decide when you’re ready to go back to work or be active again.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” I mumbled, frowning as I tried sitting up once more.

  Samuel’s hand pressed down on my forehead, and I found myself pushed back into the bed as he explained, “I’m a registered nurse, and I’m in charge here. If you don’t settle down, I have enough sedatives to put a werewolf in a coma for a week, and I can do that until you’re healed. Or, and I am going to be nice here, you agree to follow what I say physically, and I’ll let you do some light work.”

  I let out a sigh of annoyance at the fact and nodded, and the man adjusted my pillows under my head so I could prop my head and shoulders up. He checked the bag that fed into my arm and pressed his hand to the back of my cheek. After a few seconds he pulled away, and I watched as he pulled a chair over and sat by the bed. He pulled a pair of half-moon reading glasses from his shirt pocket, and slipped them on as he reached to something above my head and grabbed a hefty looking book.

  He started reading, and not sure what to do I asked, “how long have I been out?’

  “Just the day, it’s Saturday night right now,” Samuel answered, not looking up to me, “everyone, including the rest of the covenant, thinks you’re in a special treatment facility right now. I managed to sneak you in before anyone got home, the attic's pretty soundproof all things considered so they didn’t hear your protests to the bandaging.”

  “Why keep it secret?” I asked, furrowing my brow as I looked up at the man.

  “You were attacked by a hunter, we have no idea if it was planned or not,” Samuel answered, idly flipping a page, “based on the scene her investigator put together it looked like it had to have been.”

  “Does Lord know I’m here at least?” I asked, looking over to him with some concern, “Lord gets worried when I’m not around for a while, I don’t want him peeing on someones floor again.”

  Samuel blinked a few times, looking up at me in confusion, and then slowly said, “I…don’t think so? Was it important that I told the cat?”

  “He’s just going to be worried sick about me,” I said, frowning as I laid my head back. “Honestly, can I at least go back to my room if I’m stuck on bed rest? I don’t want to take up your bed like this.”

  “I can take my couch, it’s not a bother,” the man brushed off, looking away from me for a brief moment. “I mean, if you want we can see about returning you to your room, but it’ll be rather painful if I need to carry you down and I’d be forced to re-bandage you. I’d probably add a half day to your recommended rest as well, just to be on the safe side.”

  “Be a bit better on me anyway,” I said, frowning as I looked down at myself, “if I’m going to work it’ll be easier on whoever helps me out. They’ll have to deal with one flight of stairs instead of three to the attic.”

  Samuel nodded, and he broke down with a small chuckle as he shook his head with some humor. He looked down at me, and his expression turned sad for a moment as he asked, “is there anyone else you need to call about what happened? I mean, you know, a friend, or a brother…maybe a dad or something?”

  “I haven’t talked to my dad in years,” I said, watching an expression I couldn’t describe cross the man’s face. “I assume Tara probably told Sigyn, Sigyn probably told any of her friends who asked about me. Or, I guess, they’d have gotten some sort of watered down version of it. I just hope I’m not worrying everyone, you know?”

  The man nodded, his smile something between sad and humored as he muttered, “you are nothing like your mother.”

  I sat up, and the man’s face showed his regret immediately as he closed his book. I watched him rise to his feet, walking away from me as he went to stand by the wall, and I asked, “how did you know my mom?”

  Samuel didn’t answer at first, letting out a low breath, and he shook his head as he raised his hands in defeat. He shook his head, clicked his tongue a few times, and slowly answered, “when I was…when I was younger, we ran into one another on occasion.” he stopped, looking away as he declared, “look I’m going on fifty, this was… a couple decades ago, it’s not important.”

  I nodded, looking at the man in confusion for a moment until he walked over, gently pushing me back onto my back. Not sure what else to do, I let him, and I laid there in disbelief as I admitted, “I don’t even know anything about her, I was just curious what she was like.”

  Samuel nodded, the man taking a long moment to watch me, and his lips were a thin line as he answered that, “she was the reason I never spoke with you.”

  “What, The Lady told you not to let me know anything about my past?” I asked, rolling my eyes as I looked away. It wouldn’t have surprised me, The Lady had apparently known who my family was the entire time and not seen fit to tell me. Even when she’d felt right to tell me, all she had said was my mother was a Purist and refused to say more no matter how much I asked.

  “The Lady never told me who you were, she never needed to,” Samuel said, sighing at the accusation as he sat back in his chair, “You look like your mother, fucking spitting image of her if you took some years off her face. As soon as I heard there was another former Purist in the building and I saw you I knew whose kid you were, might as well have been a neon sign.”

  I nodded, his words settling in with a strange warmth in my chest as I realized what he’d said. He said I looked like my mother, and little as I knew about her that made me want to smile even as I said, “I don’t even fucking know who you are, not like you stopped by our house regularly, why not say anything?”

  “Because if you were anything like your mother, Misha should have eaten your heart and never looked back,” Samuel answered, a look of disgust suddenly crossing his face that shifted to a wincing worry, “Mary you…You should-”

  “What was her name?” I asked, closing my eyes as I said the words, “please, I…my dad lied about everything, The Lady doesn’t tell me shit, and you’re the first person I met who knew her. I don’t know anything about her.”

  “Count yourself lucky then,” Samuel said, resting his hand on mine, “no name, no knowledge, you have nothing to track her down… Mary, no one should ever have had to fucking deal with that woman.”

  “Fine,” I spat with no small amount of annoyance, “can you bring me down to my room now? I could use some time to myself before Allie brings me whatever she finds.”

  “Yeah, yeah I can do that,” the man said, shaking his head for a moment, “let me just…I’ll run down to your room, get you something easy to change into. I can help you get dressed, get everything ready to clean your wounds and change your bandages. Do you have a preference for what to wear?”

  “One of my under dress things,” I said, frowning as I tried to think of how to describe it, “big, white, long-sleeved long skirt. They’re easy to change into, pretty comfortable. I can never remember what Calliope calls them, she’s either talking too fast or when she does it’s while she’s ranting about her family she used to have and I get distracted by the drama.”

  “Yeah, I’ll get it for you,” he said, rising to his feet, “anything else?”

  “I’m really hungry,” I said, closing my eyes as I laid back against the bed, “and could really use the bathroom.”

  “I’ll see if I can’t help with the first one once you’re settled,” Samuel said, smiling sadly, “I think there’s some crutches or a wheelchair around here somewhere. That should help keep some weight off your legs, you have a bathroom in your room so you should be good there if you can handle waiting a bit.”

  “Not like I have much choice,” I sighed, and Samuel didn’t acknowledge the sarcasm as he left me alone. Left in pain, a little worried about why someone was targeting me, and more than a little annoyed.