After a few moments of this, Addie understood why he’d had Kendrick and Tiger hold Ben down. As Zander’s words rose and became a rapid ululation, Ben began to writhe.

Spasms wracked his body, his spine twisting and arching. Tiger and Kendrick held him firmly in place, but blood oozed from the wound, soaking the towel.

Without breaking his chant, Zander snatched up another towel and replaced the soiled one. Addie again pressed it firmly to the wound.

This happened again and again, until Addie feared Ben wouldn’t be able to take the strain of it. He couldn’t lose so much blood, fight to twist his body like this, and live.

Just as Addie’s thoughts voiced this worry, Ben gave one final heave and dropped back to the porch. Addie leaned to him, fearing him dead, but Ben dragged in a long breath.

The breath was clean, no raggedness, no clog of blood or phlegm. Ben’s eyes closed, his body relaxing. His hands dropped open at his sides, and he slid into the breathing of natural sleep.

Zander’s chanting grew softer, his head bowed, braids swinging gently. He lifted his large hands from Ben and pressed his palms together, blood coating his fingers. His words became a whisper, then finally ceased altogether.

Zander raised his head, and Tiger and Kendrick climbed stiffly to their feet. The sun was well up now, bathing the porch in warmth and light.

At Zander’s nod, Addie lifted the towel from Ben’s abdomen. She found the skin beneath his shirt whole and closed, only a red, scabbing streak to show where the knife had been.

She turned to Zander in amazement. “How did you do that?”

Then she gasped. Zander looked terrible. His face was blotchy, his hands shaking. He met Addie’s gaze for a brief moment before he doubled over, his hands pressed to his abdomen, and he collapsed.

Kendrick caught him. He laid Zander out across the porch floor, as he’d done Ben, easing him to lie full-length.

“He’ll be all right,” Kendrick said. “As I understand it, part of Zander’s healing gift is that he takes the pain of his patient into himself. Not the actual wound or disease, but the sensations of it. It will disperse, in time.”

“That’s horrible.” Addie smoothed back a braid that had caught on Zander’s face. His hair was sleek, clean, pure white. “Why?”

Kendrick shrugged, weary. “The price the Goddess extracts? I don’t know. It’s hard to be Goddess-touched, trust me.”

Dimitri laid a broad hand on Kendrick’s shoulder. “Not all s-sunshine and roses, poor Guardian.”

Kendrick climbed to his feet, Dimitri’s touch remaining as though it gave Kendrick strength. “I didn’t have to use the sword this morning,” Kendrick said, relieved. “Thank you, Zander.”

Zander groaned, his eyes closing tightly. “Don’t mention it,” he said, voice barely working. “Now, how about that whiskey?”

*   *   *

Ben sat at the kitchen table, shoveling in everything Addie put in front of him, while Kendrick waited impatiently for the man to tell him all he knew.

Zander, recovering, was snoring on the sofa. Dimitri had vanished, likely to join Jaycee and Seamus in patrolling. It was nice, Kendrick reflected, to have Shifters he could rely on back with him. He had no need for a minute-to-minute report of their activities—he could trust that they knew what they were doing.

Tiger, not so trusting, remained in the house. He ate as much as Ben did, but kept a watchful eye on both Ben and Zander.

The cubs were clumped at the other end of the table, enjoying their breakfast. Kendrick never kept them away when he discussed Shifter business—one of them might become leader someday. Best they fully understood everything that was going on.