Page 24

Chapter

Twenty-Four

Mandy stretched luxuriously in her recliner, still marveling at the absence of pain. More than a month had gone by since her first wish - a month of daily swims and long walks through Tucson's parks, and her body moved with an ease she'd forgotten was possible.

Mozart was curled in her lap while Bach sprawled across the back of the chair, both cats purring contentedly. She still missed the lovely Airbnb, and thoughts of moving to a larger apartment, maybe even a small house, had started creeping into her thoughts.

Her muscles held a pleasant tiredness from yesterday's visit to the Desert Museum. She'd spent hours wandering the exhibits, stopping at the presentations at the Docent stations. She hadn't had to search for benches or worry about her back seizing up - not once. The Air and Space Museum had been fun, too, and she'd actually gotten to see the Air Force One that had carried President Kennedy.

Now, it was time for mermaiding. Mandy shivered with anticipation as she scrolled through eBay's offerings of mermaid tails. Her new measurements were carefully noted on a sticky note beside her keyboard.

A particular listing had her catching her breath. The tail was gorgeous - professional grade silicone in swirling shades of purple and blue that reminded her of twilight over the ocean. The matching top was designed to look like shells, covered in the same iridescent colors. The seller had included videos showing the tail in action, demonstrating its flexibility and natural movement in the water.

Her hand trembled slightly as she checked the measurements against her notes. Perfect! The tail would fit her new form exactly. The price made her wince momentarily, but she pushed aside her habitual frugality. This was an investment in her dream, after all.

Taking a deep breath, Mandy clicked the "Buy It Now" button. Her heart raced as she entered her payment information, excitement building with each keystroke. When the confirmation page appeared, she let out a small squeal of delight that startled Mozart from his nap.

"Sorry, sweetie," she murmured, scratching behind his ears in apology.

Mandy pushed herself up from the recliner, marveling again at how easily her body responded. No stiffness, no pain - just smooth, natural movement. She wasn't sure she could ever get used to the difference - wasn't sure she wanted to get used to it.

At her desk, she settled into her ergonomic chair and opened her laptop. The manuscript she'd labored over during her month-long retreat glowed on the screen. She'd used the solitude and peace of the Airbnb to not only complete her first draft but to polish it until every word sparkled.

With practiced movements, she emailed the file to her Kindle. While waiting for it to arrive, she made a fresh cup of tea - chamomile with honey, perfect for a final read-through.

Back in her recliner, she pulled up the manuscript on her Kindle. Mozart immediately reclaimed his spot on her lap while Bach draped himself across the chair's headrest. The familiar weight of her cats and the warmth of her tea created the perfect reading atmosphere.

One last review before sending it to her beta readers. She smiled, remembering how much easier the writing process had been without constant pain interrupting her concentration.

The late afternoon sun slanted through her windows, casting long shadows across her living room, before Mandy set her Kindle aside and stretched, her muscles protesting after hours of stillness. Mozart grumbled at being disturbed from his spot on her lap, while Bach merely yawned from his perch on the chair's headrest.

"Sorry boys, but Mommy needs to move," she murmured, carefully shifting Mozart to the warm spot she'd vacated.

The manuscript was ready. She'd caught a few minor continuity errors, marked several spots where descriptions needed tightening, but overall, the story held together beautifully. Not having to deal with constant pain while writing had made such a difference in her process.

Reaching for the remote, she turned on the news, keeping the volume low. More coverage of the shapeshifter revelation filled the screen - experts debating, interviews with people claiming to have always suspected their neighbors were "different," endless speculation about what other supernatural beings might exist.

As the news anchor's voice droned on about congressional hearings and international responses to the shapeshifter revelation, she thought of Kieran and Jacinth, both caught up in the whirlwind of political and social upheaval this revelation had caused. The High Council must be in constant session, trying to manage the fallout. She hoped they were handling the stress okay, especially Jacinth with her family to consider.

Mandy smiled, remembering her lunch with Lena yesterday at the little Mexican restaurant they'd discovered. The chile rellenos had been amazing as always, but the gossip had been even better.

"You'll never believe who's going public next week," Lena had whispered, leaning across their shared plate of sopapillas. Her brown eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth.

"Someone in Tucson?" Mandy had perked up immediately. So far, their city had remained quiet while shifters across the country revealed themselves.

"Mrs. Atkinson from the library!" Lena could barely contain her giggles. "You know, the one who runs the children's story hour?"

Mandy's jaw had dropped. "The sweet little old lady that gets all the newspaper write-ups?" She'd seen Mrs. Atkinson around town occasionally, always impeccably dressed in her pastel cardigans and sensible shoes.

"She's a ring-tailed lemur!" Lena had dissolved into laughter at Mandy's expression. "Can you imagine?"

The mental image of the elderly librarian transforming into a lemur during story hour made Mandy laugh all over again now. Mrs. Atkinson had to be pushing eighty, yet according to Lena, she was still as spry and energetic as ever - in both forms.

"She says she's tired of hiding," Lena had explained between giggles. "Says at her age, she doesn't care what anyone thinks anymore. She just wants to be herself."

Mandy snickered, picturing the chaos that would erupt at the next children's story hour. "Those kids are going to go absolutely nuts when they find out. Can you imagine? "

The mental image of dignified Mrs. Atkinson, with her perfectly coiffed white hair and pastel cardigans, transforming into a ring-tailed lemur while perched on her usual storytelling chair was almost too much. She could almost hear the excited squeals and shouts from the children: "Do it again! Do it again!"

"Story time will never be the same," Mandy mused, shaking her head.

Lena nodded, grinning. "Dean says it's brilliant. I mean, who's going to grab pitchforks and torches over sweet Mrs. Atkinson? The scariest thing about her is how she'll chase you down if you have an overdue book."

"And right now might be perfect," Lena added, wiping honey from her fingers. "People are calming down after that Yellowstone mess. Plus, once everyone realizes their favorite librarian's been a shifter all this time..." She shrugged. "Makes it harder to buy into all those conspiracy theories floating around."

"Have you heard from Jacinth lately?" Lena asked, stirring her iced tea. "Or Kieran?"

Mandy shook her head, her hand unconsciously rising to touch the pendant at her throat. The familiar warmth pulsed against her fingers, but it wasn't quite the same as having him there.

"Not much, since everything happened with the shifter revelation," she admitted. "I know they must be incredibly busy with all the Council meetings." Her fingers traced the delicate metalwork of the pendant. "Jacinth sent me a quick text the other day - just a string of exhausted-looking emojis. You know they have the whole community there, since that one Maine Coon shifter - Katerina Kazakis, the famous fashion designer - went public on a talk show."

But it was Kieran she found herself missing most, though she could barely admit it to herself. The way his presence filled her small apartment, making it seem like something from an Arabian palace when he conjured his elaborate tea service. Even his formal manner and careful precision had become... endearing.

Of course she missed Jacinth, too, but it was him her heart ached for - his quiet strength, his unexpected moments of dry humor, the way his eyes would crinkle slightly at the corners when something amused him. But she couldn't quite bring herself to say that out loud.

The pendant warmed against her skin, as if responding to her thoughts. She wondered if he could sense when she thought about him, then immediately felt foolish for even considering it. He was probably far too busy with important Council matters to spare any thought for one ordinary human woman with his vessel.

Mandy jolted awake, her body protesting with familiar aches that made her groan. Not the old pain - this was different. Her throat felt scratchy, and her muscles carried that telltale soreness that usually preceded getting sick. She looked at the clock on her bedside - 2 AM.

"No, no, no," she muttered, carefully extracting herself from between Mozart and Bach. The cats made sleepy sounds of protest as she stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the harsh fluorescent light.

Her medicine cabinet yielded a bottle of aspirin. She shook out two tablets, then made her way to the kitchen where she poured a glass of orange juice. The cold liquid felt good on her throat as she swallowed the pills.

Back in the bathroom, she uncapped the Listerine and took a generous mouthful, swishing the antiseptic liquid vigorously. The mint burned against her tender throat, the taste clashing horribly with the lingering orange juice. But she'd learned years ago that sometimes catching these things early made the difference between a minor inconvenience and a week in bed.

"Ugh," she muttered, rinsing her mouth with water to clear the conflicting flavors. "That is not a taste combination anyone needs."

Mandy crawled back into bed, her body already aching more than before. Mozart and Bach settled against her, their warmth usually comforting but now adding to her growing discomfort. She tossed and turned, pushing off blankets only to grab them again as chills wracked her body.

By morning, her head pounded and her skin burned. The thermometer confirmed what she already knew - her temperature was well over a hundred. She fumbled with the aspirin bottle, managing to swallow two more tablets with shaking hands.

The morning dragged into afternoon, each hour bringing worse symptoms. A deep, wracking cough tore through her chest, leaving her gasping. Her fever climbed despite the medication, and familiar dread settled in her stomach. She recognized these signs all too well.

Memories of her bout with pneumonia when Sabrina was small flashed through her mind. Ever since then, even minor colds had a nasty habit of settling in her lungs, usually developing into bronchitis. This felt very much like that - worse, pneumonia was always a legitimate worry.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone. The room spun slightly, and she knew she was in no condition to drive herself to the ER. Pride warred briefly with common sense before another coughing fit made the decision for her.

With unsteady fingers, she dialed 911, hating the necessity but knowing she had no choice.

This trip to the emergency room was nothing like last time. No endless waiting, no lying forgotten on a gurney in a hallway. Instead, nurses whisked her directly into a private treatment area, their movements quick and purposeful.

"We're going to start an IV," a nurse in blue scrubs explained, efficiently wrapping a tourniquet around Mandy's arm. The needle stick barely registered through her fever haze.

Cool fluid flowed into her veins as another nurse attached monitors. Numbers flashed on screens, accompanied by steady beeping. The tightness in her chest made each breath a struggle.

"Oxygen saturation's low," someone announced. Clear tubing settled against her nose, delivering blessed oxygen that made breathing slightly easier.

A doctor in a white coat appeared, ordering chest x-rays and blood work. Everything moved in a blur of activity - being wheeled to radiology, more blood draws, vital sign checks. Her oxygen tubing had been replaced with a face mask, but they'd had to go back to the tubing, because of the violent fits of coughing that racked her.

Through the fever fog, Mandy noticed the increasing layers of protective equipment the staff donned.The doctor returned, now wearing not just a face mask, but one of those plastic face shields.

"Mrs. Dupont," he said, his voice muffled behind his mask, "I'm afraid you've tested positive for COVID-19."

The words hit like a physical blow. After all these years of careful precautions, masks, social distancing, and vaccine boosters, the virus had finally found her. And it was an almost guaranteed death sentence, given her history with pneumonia, and her age. She'd always known that, always been careful.

Through the fever haze, Mandy fumbled with her phone, squinting at the too-bright screen. She had to call Mrs. Rodriguez about the cats. The thought of Bach and Mozart alone in her apartment made her chest tighten even more than the COVID already had. Her neighbor had cared for her cats last Christmas when she'd gone to see Sabrina in Washington. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts.

"Mrs. Rodriguez? I'm in the hospital," Mandy croaked, her voice barely recognizable. "Could you...the cats..."

"Oh, mi cielo! Of course, I'll take care of your babies," Mrs. Rodriguez's warm voice came through clearly. "I still have the key from last Christmas. Don't worry about anything."

Relief flooded through Mandy as she let the phone fall from her hand. At least Bach and Mozart would be cared for. The room spun lazily around her as a nurse adjusted something on her IV.

Through the fever haze, a crucial thought penetrated Mandy's clouded mind. Kieran! And Jacinth! Her hand flew to her throat, fingers searching for the familiar warmth of the pendant.

Nothing.

Pure panic shot through her, temporarily overwhelming even the burning in her lungs. The pendant - where was it? She couldn't lose it, couldn't lose her connection to...

"My necklace," she gasped, grabbing at the nearest nurse's sleeve. "Please, where...?"

The nurse - Sara, according to her name tag - patted Mandy's hand reassuringly. "We had to remove it for the chest x-ray, remember? Don't worry, it's safe in your purse in the bedside drawer."

Mandy's eyes darted to the small drawer built into the hospital nightstand. The panic receded slightly, but her heart still raced. She needed that pendant. Needed to let them know...

"Can I..." she wheezed, gesturing weakly at the drawer.

Sarah opened it, revealing Mandy's familiar purple purse. "Your necklace is right in here. We'll keep it safe until you're feeling better, okay?"

Mandy nodded, though her fingers itched to reach for the pendant. Just knowing it was close helped calm her racing thoughts somewhat. At least she hadn't lost her connection to Kieran and Jacinth. Though right now, she wasn't sure she had the strength to summon either of them, even if she'd been wearing it.

"We're increasing your oxygen," someone said from behind layers of PPE. "And adding some medication to help with the fever and cough."

Mandy nodded, or tried to. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Cool liquid rushed through her veins, but the fire burning through her body didn't diminish. She couldn't remember ever feeling this exhausted, this drained.

Various medications were administered - their names a blur of syllables she couldn't focus on enough to comprehend. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the overwhelming need to sleep.