I woke up with a sharp gasp, panting as I scanned the room, blinking wildly as the dream still gripped me. Then I saw Roland, and Claire. She had been folded up on the other end of the couch, but had woken at the sudden noise, eyes darting to Roland anxiously. She let out a breath, holding out a hand to me.

“Easy, Callie.” She said, noticing the panic in my eyes. She glanced over my shoulder, squinting. “It’s only been an hour.” She frowned at me guiltily. “I must have fallen asleep, too. But only for ten minutes,” she added, blushing lightly.

I nodded, spotting my coffee on the table. I reached for it, not caring that it was lukewarm, and downed it. Then I stood, walking over to Roland. He hadn’t stirred, and looked to be sleeping well. More color to his cheeks.

“Did you have a bad dream? Not surprising,” Claire said, drinking her own coffee.

I nodded. “The night we first met Roland,” I said, still staring down at Roland from the foot of his bed. It felt like I had slept for hours. I was still tired, but I had been in a deep sleep, feeling as if I had been suddenly jolted awake, and so I felt slightly delirious.

“That’s when it all began. Your… training,” Claire said, knowing the story well.

I nodded tiredly. “Yes.”

Roland had returned the next day, and after a brief misunderstanding with my dad’s shotgun, had been invited inside to talk. Roland proceeded to tell us — Claire included, since she had seen everything the night before — that my talents were nothing to be afraid of, but that I would require training so as not to hurt myself or those around me. Although baffled, my parents had ultimately backed me up in my decision, and Roland had decided to stick around Kansas City for a while to train me. That had been almost ten years ago. He was like a second father to me. I had been afraid that Claire would run screaming, but she hadn’t, because she kicked too much ass to abandon me. Or she had a monumentally stupid blind spot when it came to friendships. I realized I was smiling at that thought. I really was a lucky girl.

I turned to Claire. “Are you doing okay?”

She just stared at me for a moment, before her face began to flush. “No, Callie. I’m not. What the hell is going on? I’m fucking terrified. I’ve never had to work on a real person before.” Tears began to fill her eyes, and I felt my heart breaking. “That could have been you, Callie. I don’t know what I would have done…” she trailed off, wiping her eyes with the blanket.

“I know, Claire. I’m scared, too. All we can do now is hope for him to wake up soon. Figure this all out together, okay?” she nodded dejectedly, and I turned back to Roland, feeling my nightmare lurking in the depths of my mind, waiting to strike.

It was just too much.

I tried to decide what to do — call my dad, Father David, or just continue to sit there like a lump on a log, trying to stay awake — when I saw Roland’s eyes slowly open.

He remained motionless, and if I hadn’t been staring at his face, I wouldn’t have even noticed a difference in his breathing. Because nothing else had changed. As if he had woken that way on purpose, silently scanning his surroundings in case he was still in danger, before revealing his subterfuge.

I pinched his leg — the good one — and he grunted. Claire jumped, dropping her cup as her hand shot to her mouth. She wasn’t good with surprises. Like I said, almost anything could startle her.

Roland locked angry eyes on me, and then tried to get up. I flung out my hand, latching him down to the bed with a light rope of magic. “Stop. You’re hurt.” It felt good to take out some of my frustration on him. I wanted answers, and I would get them. Now.

“I don’t have time for this,” he rumbled in a low tone. “Do you think I can’t break your magic?” he asked with a sneer.

I shrugged. “You do that before we finish talking, and that won’t be the only thing finished.”

He stared at me as if I had admitted to murdering kittens in my spare time. I just gave him a slow, double nod, unblinking. I wasn’t about to have him stubbornly get up, stand with almighty confidence, and then have his fucking leg fall off or him bleed out on my floor, making more work for me. Although my heart was racing with relief, and a million questions, I folded my arms, waiting with a cool gaze.

He sighed in resignation. “Fine. Let’s talk. Then I’ll get up. Remove this.”

I waited for a moment, studying him suspiciously. Then I let the magic go. One, because he could have bent me over his knee and paddled my ass if he wanted to — injured or not — and two, because if he said he would do something, he did it. Big on promises, Roland was.

“We aren’t safe here.”

I blinked at him. “Nowhere in the world is safe in your eyes.”

He grunted in agreement. “Still, they beat us back to the storage unit. They have a piece of the artifact. Must have been the other wolf we saw. The one that escaped. He must have had his own key. I should have thought of that.” His look might or might not have been accusing. Or maybe that was just how I imagined it, because in my mind, it had been my fault. He would have handled both of them alone with no problem if it hadn’t been for me distracting him, forcing him into trying to be a focused warrior and a distracted teacher at the same time. But his words made sense. The other wolf wouldn’t have lasted long missing his jaw. He had come back to free his friend, so his friend could race back to the storage unit, and take…

“Are you ready to tell me exactly what tonight was about? What is this artifact? Because you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Are you a doctor?”

I smiled acidly, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. “No, but she is.” He knew Claire. They had met several times after that fateful night during dinners at my dad’s place.

Claire squeaked at his sudden raptor’s glare, but managed an authoritative nod a moment later. He muttered angrily, not at her, but about the situation itself, and about not needing two mothers. Still, he mumbled loud enough for her to hear, and her face began to storm over. I felt a genuine smile splitting my cheeks as I waited. Claire was scared of pretty much everything, but challenge her intellect? You would die. By acid. Then fire. Your ashes tossed into a shallow, open grave.

“Seventeen stitches, deep muscle lacerations, and shredded cartilage. Oh, and your thigh has a hairline fracture, and you lost two pints of blood.” She took a step closer. “You try to walk out of this room right now, and you die. Twenty minutes, tops. If you’re lucky.”

I pretended to shoot a basketball, leaving my hands up in the air like the badass players do when they make a beautiful shot. Roland frowned at me, obviously not getting it, but Claire gave me a light laugh.

When I looked back, Roland was scowling even further, but he leveled a calculating look at me, thinking, assessing, and the wolfish smile that slowly spread across his face made me take an involuntary step back.

“Okay, get me some of that coffee. Or I walk. And I die.”