Saber kept an eye on Sly, Joe and the group of blue ladies after he’d escorted the weeping Tigrus woman to his mother. His gut bucked and tightened and jiggled, yet he noted nothing amiss. Not a single threat. Sly and Joe were entertaining the group from the Tiraq mainland. His younger brothers spoke with enthusiasm, waving their hands in illustration.
The blue ladies appeared equally happy, listening intently and offering their contributions to the spirited discussion.
Still, Saber’s warning antenna buzzed and buzzed. Like a bee in a tizzy, a premonition circled his mind. He scanned the function room. Not one threat visible.
Strife happened. Not unusual in this mix of races. Small misunderstandings quickly switched to large ones if he didn’t stomp them dead. An example—the situation between the blue lady and the Tigrus woman. He’d learned to spot the signs before small situations turned into outright war.
But no. It was happy-happy, joy-joy. Everyone beamed, even the Tigrus woman, who was now chatting with his cousin Sam Mitchell.
Saber scrutinized the room again. Cheerful guests. Sly and Joe and their blue entourage.
Then a burst of golden light erupted, so bright his eyes shut in self-defense. He blinked to refocus.
Crap! He was darting, running, pushing past stunned bystanders even before his vision cleared to twenty-twenty. He skidded to a stop beside Joe as Sly crumpled.
“What the hell happened?” Saber pushed aside a blue lady and crouched next to Joe.
“I don’t know! There was a bright light. By the time my sight cleared, Sly was down. He has a pulse. God, Saber. Tell me I’m not imagining his heartbeat.” Stark fear shone from Joe, and the same terror beat and slapped at Saber.
“No, you’re right. He’s still alive.”
Leo and Felix arrived.
Felix inhaled sharply. “Is he—?”
“He’s still breathing. Joe, help me get him out of here. Felix. Leo. Offer everyone a drink. Tell Ma to organize a party game.”
Sly was a dead weight. His skin radiated a clammy chill that reminded Saber of Earth during a cold July winter in New Zealand. His skin appeared bloodless and pale, his chest lifting grudgingly in tiny increments. He didn’t show a sign of regaining consciousness.
And still unease buzzed through Saber, the bee still present, still agitated.
He and Joe hoisted Sly to his feet and pretended to walk him from the function room. In reality, they dragged him, using brute force to get him outside.
“Where do we take him?” Joe asked.
“The infirmary,” Saber said. “I’ll contact Casey once we get there. Hopefully, she’ll know what’s wrong with him. Did any of those blue women touch him with their tongues?”
“No. We were talking. None of them want mates. It was a friendly chat.”
“Okay.” Saber tamped down his worry. The bright light hadn’t dropped anyone else. Just Sly. Had he been unlucky or was it something else?
They huffed and puffed and manhandled Sly along a short path to a squat stone building. Currently empty. Actually, it was usually vacant.
“Hold Sly’s weight while I get the door,” Joe said. “I didn’t realize he was so heavy.”
“We’ll tell him he needs a diet once he regains consciousness,” Saber joked.
They half-lifted, half-dragged Sly to a narrow bed, both grunting as they dropped him in place.
Saber pulled out his com and messaged Casey. She must’ve been nearby, because he soon heard the clomp-clomp of her boots, signaling her arrival.
“What’s wrong with Sly?” she asked, her dark hair ruffled from her race to the infirmary.
“We don’t know,” Saber said. “He’s breathing, but he hasn’t regained consciousness. There was a bright light, so bright it hurt my eyes. By the time I focused again, Sly was on the floor.”
“That’s all I saw, too,” Joe said. “He dropped without warning. I didn’t have a chance to catch him. Have you seen anything like this before?”
Casey ran her hands over Sly’s body, then stalked to a drawer. She pulled out a medi-comp and ran it over him. When it beeped, she frowned at the results. “No known cause. According to the medi-comp, he should be walking around.”
A former marine, Casey had a vast amount of medical knowledge collected in the field during encounters with other races.
Concern gripped Saber. Sly’s skin felt cool when his feline genes usually generated warmth. “What do you think?”
Casey worked her bottom lip between her teeth as she repeated her sweep with the medi-comp. “No one else was hurt?”
“No,” Joe said. “I’m fine. So are the women we were speaking to at the time.”
“I’m sorry, Saber. I’ve no idea what’s wrong with him. I’ve never come across anything similar. All we can do is watch him, keep him warm. I’ll try my contacts for information.”
“I have to return to the mixer and do my welcoming speech,” Saber said. “Joe, can you come back with me and speak with the blue ladies? Maybe they saw something that one of us missed.”
Joe nodded. “I’ll do that.”
“I’ll stay with Sly,” Casey promised, and gave Joe a swift hug.
“Thanks.” With a last glance at his brother, Saber guided Joe from the infirmary. Worry bounced inside him like a fidgety child. Joe and Sly were close. He’d need to watch Joe, keep him busy while they worked out what ailed Sly.