I was in trouble. Big fucking trouble.

The end of my shift—a Tuesday in the middle of January, so I really didn't give a damn about it being an afternoon one—couldn't come too soon.

Actually, they were all like that now. I, quite literally, couldn't get it up for my clients. At all. Any of them. Since I rarely had a female client, I'd managed so far, but I knew my reviews weren't what they were before Midwinter.

Okay, long before Midwinter. Before my heat.

I was scared.

The door to the office was closed, which wasn't usual. I almost went home again, but I couldn't keep putting this off. If I didn't find out soon why I'd lost all my enjoyment in my job, I was going to lose my mind. And my job. So I knocked.

A chair scraped over the floor and then Ma's voice said, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Ma," I answered. Relief made my head spin, then I got scared again.

"Come in," she said and I made myself open the door before I could chicken out and make an excuse to leave.

"You got a minute?"

She was sitting behind the computer, Peregrine crammed in beside her. I didn't have any idea how they managed it.

"What do you need, honey?" she asked.

"I think... I need a medical," I stammered.

Peregrine frowned. "Do you think you caught something that the last swab didn't show?"

"Maybe?" I said weakly. "Can I just have the appointment, please?" I wanted to hug myself, as if that could help me hide from their prying eyes.

Ma clicked on the screen, her expression too calm. "There's an opening in half an hour if you want that."

I nodded. Yes, I wanted it.

She clicked again and typed my name, then looked up at me. For the first time I noticed the lines starting in the corners of her eyes and the slight sag of her cheeks near her mouth. She was getting older. Which scared me a little, because I realized I'd kind of thought of her as immortal. She'd been there all my life.

Then again, I was looking for a medical appointment to find out why my own body suddenly wasn't working the way it should. Maybe my mother's mortality wasn't the one I should be worrying about.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Ma asked me gently.

I almost said yes, but whatever this was, I thought maybe I needed to wrap my head around it before I asked her to come to terms with it. "No, I'm fine. It's probably nothing." I nodded to Peregrine. "You were probably right about burning myself out."

As little white lies went, it wasn't a great one, but Ma looked relieved to have a reasonable explanation for it. And maybe I wasn't really lying. After all, I didn't know what was causing my problems.

Yet.

I went to the kitchen to get an orange juice and try to convince myself to eat something along with it. My appetite had apparently disappeared wherever my libido had gone, though that was mostly the semi-constant nausea that had plagued me the past couple of weeks. I never threw anything up once I got it down, but getting it into my stomach was turning into more of a chore than I liked. And I needed to eat—no one wanted to fuck a bag of bones.

"Hey, Rosabel, you mind if I steal a glass of orange juice?" Technically, everything in this kitchen was for the guests and we could eat it if they bought it for us, but we all snuck in for snacks and drinks. Ma had told me once that management knew all about it, but as long as we kept our thievery quiet, they weren't going to crack down on it.

"Help yourself," she said. She was busy julienning some carrots—I’d asked her once what it was called, and was held hostage for a full ten minutes while she explained in too much detail exactly how you should cut carrots into matchsticks. Some things you just can't unsee. Or unhear.

"Got anything good for an upset stomach?" I asked, moving to root through the cupboards.

"There's crackers up above on the right, or you can make toast. Mom says that dry toast is good for an upset stomach."

The toast sounded like too much trouble, so I helped myself to a handful of crackers and pulled a stool over to sit next to her while she did her thing. "That's a lot of julienned carrots for one order," I commented. Maybe if I kept my brain distracted, my stomach wouldn't notice I was trying to trick it. I began to casually nibble one of the crackers.

"This is prep work," Rosabel informed me. "It's nice to have stuff prepared ahead, in case you get a rush."

I nodded and choked back a wave of nausea. "Does that happen often?" I tried another corner of the cracker, then cautiously brought my glass of orange juice up to my mouth.

No. Not a good idea at all. I checked the clock on the wall--still almost fifteen minutes to go.

"You feeling okay?" Rosabel asked, a frown creasing her forehead.

"Just a little queasy, is all. I'm going to go see medical and get their opinion," I assured her. "Don't worry, I don't plan to puke on your work."

"Better not. I'd hate to have to get all stabby with you," she joked back, but there was some real concern in her eyes. "When's your appointment?"

I checked again. "Ten minutes?" I glanced down at the pile of crackers in front of me and regretted taking a whole handful.

"Here." She went to the big refrigerator and got something out and sliced off a piece. "Try this. Suck on it and, if you can, chew it slowly."

Ginger. "Thank you," I said with more gratitude than I'd ever shown before for a piece of spicy root. "I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"Sick makes you stupid," she said, and I laughed. Blunt Rosabel. "You should probably head out now," she added. "You have five minutes left."

"Barrens!" I exclaimed and jumped up. My stomach took a moment to catch up and I leaned over the table, my head cradled in my hands while it righted itself.

Rosabel rubbed my back for me until I stood up. "I'll put your stuff away. Go, get better."

"Thanks." I kissed her cheek and she blushed. I wasn't normally touchy feely, even with pack, but she'd been good to me and I wanted to be nice back to her. "Let's hope it's nothing that keeps me off the work roster," I said as I headed for the door.

"I'll say a prayer for you," she called after me.