“Why shouldn’t you trust yourself?”
She looked away. More than ever, it felt like the scar on her shoulder was a brand, one that was still glowing red-hot. “I’ve made some mistakes in that area before.
”
“Everybody makes mistakes sometimes.” He laughed, and it was a quiet little laugh that felt completely natural. She relished it: she couldn’t get over what a privilege it was to feel like he was showing her his real self, not the version that was edited for everyone else’s comfort. “But that probably doesn’t sound too comforting coming from a guy in a prison jumpsuit. Okay, so we’re talking about some kind of force that would make us hallucinate and maybe make us more susceptible to persuasion. What would do that?”
Every possibility Gretchen could come up with felt like it was straight out of a comic book. Then again, the chameleon car wasn’t exactly standard issue, either.
She went with the least ridiculous option. “Maybe some kind of aerosol spray? A drug that we breathed in?”
“Maybe. Like some kind of tear gas. Only if you breathe this stuff in, you get anxious and confused, so not tear gas exactly, but—”
“Fear gas?” Gretchen said. So much for not sounding ridiculous.
“I didn’t call it that,” Cooper said primly, and then he deflated. “But yeah, fear gas. Basically.”
Okay: fear gas. It sounded like something the Joker would use to attack Batman. They were right back in comic book territory again.
She tried to remember if there had been some kind of strange smell in the car, or maybe a hint of mist, but she kept drawing a blank: her memory’s cooperation was still faulty at best. But she couldn’t think of any other possibility. She must have gotten dosed with something to make her disoriented and suggestible.
But only when you looked at the men drugging you? the small voice said dryly. Not when you were looking anywhere else? That’s a pretty weird drug.
True. She didn’t have a good answer for that.
“There’s always ‘a wizard did it,’” she said, offering him a halfhearted smile.
To her surprise and delight, her mention of a wizard apparently summoned a pegasus.
Martin barreled into the break room.
No one could make an entrance like a worried pegasus shifter, but the sudden explosion of him coming through the door jangled her nerves to the point where her hand twitched towards her gun. She made herself calm down, which was a lot easier to do once Martin had wrapped her in a tight hug.
This whole day had left her way too antsy. She was safe. She was with Cooper and Martin, and she was in a well-lit, perfectly ordinary hospital.
She hugged Martin back firmly. “It’s good to see you too.”
“I don’t like any of my people getting shot at,” Martin said. “Especially the one who’s supposed to take over for me when I retire.”
“Don’t worry, chief. I wouldn’t dare get killed and deny you your peaceful years of taking Tiffani on round-the-world tours.”
Though she still had a hard time believing Martin would ever voluntarily retire, honestly. He loved the job just as much as she did. She would happily settle for a whole career of just being the person who covered for him while he was on vacation.
He let her go, and Gretchen saw the contentment in his eyes that only the mention of his beloved mate could ever put there. “Speaking of Tiffani, she sent you something. I bolted the second Keith called in his shots fired report, and she basically threw these at me as I was on my way out the door.”
He passed her a Ziploc bag full of Tiffani’s signature terrible cookies, which had become a team inside joke by this point. They were slowly approaching edibility as she got more practice, but no one wanted to tell Tiffani that. She’d grown to take a perverse pride in her seeming inability to bake.
“These aren’t even rock hard,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “She’s slipping.”
“I know, but let’s not hurt her feelings.” His expression evened out, becoming much more cautious and neutral. “Hello, Cooper. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
Cooper stood up, wincing a little as his sore muscles contracted. “So do I, sir. But it’s good to see you looking well.”
Martin nodded and turned back to Gretchen. “How’s Keith?”
She gave him a brief outline of Keith’s condition, including the concern that he might have post-concussion syndrome, but made sure to emphasize that the nurse had clearly been optimistic. “I think he should be back on his feet soon. And you know he’s... strong,” she added, obliquely trying to talk around the shifter aspect.
Usually it was dangerous to even bring shifters into the ER, but Keith had been hurt badly enough that Gretchen had decided it was worth the risk. And it had worked out perfectly: they had examined him quickly enough that his accelerated healing hadn’t been obvious. He would probably check out early and against medical advice to better protect his secret, but for now, the shifter world could breathe easy. Their secret was still safe.