Page 88 of A Subtle Scar

“You’re fine, ma’am,” Chandler said. “Deacon, get her some water, please. Ma’am? You were under the influence of magic, and the spell stuck in your throat is known to leave some irritation and the sensation of burning, but you are fine now.”

He was maneuvering her by her shoulder and fixed her foot with his own, indicating the token to Rice, who got an evidence baggy and a pair of rubber gloves out of her pocket.

Huh. I needed gloves and bags like those too, for future cases.

“Where—Regus? Where is Regus? You—” Her eyes went wide when they finally focused on Chandler. “You are infected!”

The screaming that ensued was fully unprovoked. The woman reacted as if Chandler, and all the rest of us for that matter, were going to skin her alive.

She shoved Chandler, hard, kicked out at him. Detective Rice, who was on one knee behind Chandler to collect the token, was just in the right spot to make sure he was going to fall over her, maybe hit his head, and the damn necromancer was in my way on his way to the door.

Despite his lame obsession with lace, Ronny was quick.

“Move!” I shouted at the necromancer, but Ronny was already diving forward, arms out.

When the screaming woman lifted her arm to hit Chandler on top of shoving him, I teleported and grabbed her wrist.

In the moment it took me to make sure Ronny had Chandler, the woman’s eyes shifted to me.

“Infected!” she screamed and started fighting me.

She slapped me—not very nice—then followed that up with a kick between the legs. It took more than that to hurt me, but it was a bit undignified.

“Lady, stop,” I said.

She pulled at the arm I was still holding. “Demon! You’re all pests!” She took a step back, and with the heel of her foot, she smudged Deacon’s ward, which would’ve only held her if she were under the spell to begin with.

I gave in to her pulling but didn’t let go, mostly because Ronny, Chandler, and Detective Rice were in the process of getting disentangled, onto their feet, and away.

“Demon!” she yelled, spittle hitting my cheek.

“Really, just a god,” I said.

The woman screamed, and more droplets of saliva came at me.

“Infected! Let go of me! Let go! I don’t want your foulness to touch me!”

Then, she tried kicking me again, and this time, she also aimed her heel down at my toes. She wasn’t Ronny and had neither magic nor ridiculous heels though, and those canvas shoes with the brittle sole did nothing.

“Hold her,” said another human. This one had dashed into the room with a medical bag, and he was getting an injector ready.

The woman saw, and it clearly upset her more, going by the increased volume of her screams and the disgraceful throwing of fists, slaps, and drops of spit.

“You cannot have me! You cannot have me! Let mego!”

She then dug her teeth into my fingers around her wrist, or tried to. Eating gods wasn’t an easy feat, nor was biting us, thank fuck.

“Hold her,” the doctor person said again.

The woman aimed her kicks at him now, so I spun her around and pushed her up against the wall as gently as I could. Which wasn’t very gentle, but that was because she was wild.

The doctor hit her with his injector, right in her arm.

“Demon spawn! You foul vermin! Get your hands off me, you disgusting filth!” she yelled.

It went on for another minute before she went slack. At that point I lowered her to the ground and let the doctor take over.

Ronny had his arms around Chandler, stroking his back and making low cooing sounds to calm him.