***
Three Hours Later
I’m on the cot with Ivy, my arms around her, my body temperature as high as I can get it because she’s trembling. Hard. She’s got a severe case of the chills and this is good because her temperature is down to normal but it’s also bad because she’s in a lot of discomfort.
Her teeth chatter. Her body trembles. Cat keeps rotating blankets through a dryer and piling them on us as I hold Ivy close under the quilt and three other blankets. Cat told me that this quilt I brought from my bed is the one that my grandmother made when I was a baby. Not only did Cornelius take me, but he took me in it.
“I never thought I’d see it again,” she said.
“I’ve never used it until Ivy,” I admitted. “I pulled it from the back of the cabinet and draped it over her when I mated her the first night. I’d never used it. Don’t even remember it around over the years.”
She smiled. “I’m glad it’s still around. Grandma Carolyn will be happy if we show it to her. Though, it’ll remind her of the sons she lost. She lost them both, your dad and Cornelius. It’s been a source of deep pain for her.”
I squeeze my mother’s hand.
Her face brightens. “I look forward to making one for your first child.”
I hear the door and catch the aroma of someone else in Ivy’s family.
Ivy’s mother. I know it as soon as I see her. Blonde hair, blue eyes. My mother’s age or a bit younger. Panic in her eyes as she rushes to Amelia in the waiting room and embraces her. Riley and Linc are behind her. They’ve obviously escorted her to the clinic from the four corners of the village.
Her eyes meet mine as she hurries into the room I’m in. “What’s happening?”
I brace, thinking I’m about to get trouble from her, too, but her eyes are simply filled with concern.
“I’m trying to raise her body temperature. She’s got severe chills.”
My mother speaks up. “I’m Catrina Savage, this is Tyson. Ivy’s temperature is back to normal but her fever medication will wear off soon so that’ll be telling.”
“I’m Kathleen Brennan. What can I do?”
“All we can do is wait.”
“Shouldn’t we get her to a hospital?”
“If her fever spikes within the next hour, yes. If not, we keep watching closely. Her temperature has been normal for two hours.” A phone rings. “Excuse me,” my mother says as she leaves the room with the phone to her ear.
“I think we should get her to a hospital right now,” Ivy’s sister says.
“Let’s give it a bit and see,” Kathleen suggests.
“Even though her temperature is down, we don’t know why it spiked. We don’t know why this is happening. We need a hospital, you people!”
“Ames?” Ivy calls. “Ames?” Her teeth chatter and she burrows closer to me. I stroke her hair.
“Ivy, oh god. Hi Ivy. How do you feel? Amelia asks.
“You’re being dramatic,” Ivy says and then she shivers.
Her eyes flutter open. “Hi,” she says, looking up at me, her chin planted in the center of my chest.
“Hi,” I repeat, hoarsely. “Are you feeling okay?”
Her teeth chatter again, and she burrows some more.
“Amelia, are you here or am I hallucinating?” she asks.
“I’m here. Mom’s here, too.”
“Mom?” Ivy calls out.
“I’m here, baby girl.” Kathleen leans over her daughter and kisses the apple of her cheek.
“Amie, did… did… you get claimed by a werewolf too?” Ivy asks.
Mason straightens up in the chair he’s sitting in over in the waiting room. My eyes meet his and his brow quirks up as he listens.
“Looks like it,” Amelia grumbles.
“Has he done that knot thing?” Ivy’s teeth chatter. “Did he make a neck clit on you?” She laughs and trembles some more.
“She’s delirious,” Kathleen remarks. “Ivy?”
“Yeah, Ives, he did,” Amelia says as if she’s admitting something terrible.
Mason smirks.
“A neck clit?” Kathleen whispers.
I can’t help it; I smirk too.
Ivy giggles and burrows into me some more.
I catch Amelia smirk, but she tries to hide it.
Her eyes meet mine and I feel the barest twitch of my mouth and as Amelia tries to look away, I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips.
My mother bursts into the room.
“Ivy, are you still taking that birth control pill every day? It just dawned on me while I was on the phone with the doctor in Scotland.”
Ivy lifts her chin up and nods. “Yeah.”
My mother breathes out a sigh. “And we have our culprit. I think. When did you last take it?”
“What’s this?” I ask.
My mother lifts an index finger and continues talking to Ivy.
“Ivy?” she prompts.
“When I wake up every morning. What time is it?”
“It’s almost seven in the morning. We’ll see what happens over the next few hours. Let’s take your temperature.”
I’m confused.
I know my mother reads this from my eyes as she points her device at Ivy’s forehead.