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“What?” Paige asked. “What happened? What is it?”

“I touched one of the tentacles, and it moved. Almost like retracted away from me.”

Paige’s lips formed a wide grimace. “Like into my body?”

“Yeah. It’s like it’s another creature. Like a parasite.” Dewey’s words came slow and clipped as he leaned closer to Paige and touched one of the black tentacles again.

“Well, get them off of me!”

“I’m not certain we can. I’m assuming they are growing out of the wound. Likely planted in a tiny form when you got the mark, and now they’ve grown to a larger size. Does it hurt when I touch them?”

Paige shook her head. “No. It just feels weird. Like my skin is crawling.”

“I’d like to study these further. I wonder if I can remove one or part of one.”

Paige swallowed hard, wrinkling her nose as she considered the proposition. “This sounds gross.” She paused for a moment. “But it may prove helpful. Do what you have to.”

Dewey flicked his fleshy eyebrows up. “Okay. Let me grab some…stuff, and we’ll try to extract one. Maybe you should lie on the air mattress. I don’t want you passing out again.”

With a frown, Paige nodded in agreement. “This is so gross. Suddenly, the Shrieking Pixies sound like a better deal.”

“Eh,” Dewey hedged as he flew into his bedroom, “probably not.” He fluttered back into the room with a fistful of items. “Oh, unless these are some parasitic form of Shrieking Pixies.”

Paige sprawled on the air mattress, wrinkling her nose. “Oh, that’s disgusting.”

“Maybe so, but it would explain a lot of things,” Dewey said as he grabbed two plates from the kitchen cupboard and sailed back over to her.

He landed on the floor and set his materials around him.

Metal tools clattered against the dish as he laid them out before fluttering back into the bathroom for a towel, gauze, and a few other medical supplies.

He settled down next to Paige. She twisted her neck to face away from him, squeezing her hands into balls. She pressed her lips together in anticipation of an unpleasant experience.

Silence fell over the room, and Paige squeezed her eyes shut, her body tensing. A tool clattered down onto the plate, making her jump.

“You know,” Dewey said, “I’m thinking maybe I should whip up a batch of slime before I attempt this. I’m afraid this may be painful.”

Paige blew out a breath and swiveled her head toward him. “And I wouldn’t even mind if you overestimated my weight. Being high may be a good thing.”

“One batch of slime coming right up!” Dewey said, sticking a finger in the air.

He launched himself into the air and flew over to the kitchen. Paige grabbed one of the reference books she’d brought up to study while she waited. She thumbed through it, staring at the pages without seeing the words.

With a sigh, she clapped the book shut. “It’s no use. I can’t concentrate until this is done.”

She tossed the book back on the stack, flopping back onto the air mattress. The knowledge of what she lay on top of drove her back up to sit.

“Have you seen Dickens?” she asked, glancing around.

“He’s under my nest.”

“Oh, good. Good place for him while we deal with these things.”

She set her elbows on her thighs and sank her chin into her hands, watching Dewey mix the sludge-like medicine in a metal bowl. He sloshed it into a tall glass and tugged a drawer open, likely in search of a straw.

“No straw needed,” Paige said, climbing to her feet.

She ambled to the kitchen with an outstretched arm and waved her fingers to signal him to pass her the glass.