Page 50 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

“Wait, where’d you get real clothes?”

“Oh, my luggage was being stored at the bellhop station while I was hiking. I got it when Stella woke up. I didn’t really sleep much last night. But you have clothes in the room. Stella’s been up forever. She went out to the truck when it was barely dawn and brought back a big bag she’d filled with stuff for you guys. She even found something not too hideous for Gemma to wear. Everything is on the couch in the sitting room of the suite.” Imani gave her an appraising look. “You, Gemma, and Karen could probably sleep through the next apocalypse. You didn’t so much as twitch when Stella dragged all that stuff in.”

“Oh yeah. My ability to sleep deeply is a gift. I’ll bet Gemma and Karen’s is a gift given to them by Bordeaux.”

“Ha! Gemma wasn’t drunk. The child quit drinking because she said she had to check on ‘her patients.’” Imani made air quotes. “But you’re totally right about Karen. Girlfriend cannot handle her booze.”

“That’s the truth.” Mercury peered down the gloomy hallway. “What time is it? It looks like it’s still dark.”

“Actually, it’s midmorning, but dark as hell. And it stinks like a nasty burn pile outside.”

“Shit. That can’t be good, but it’s not exactly a surprise. The number of bombs we saw was terrifying, and that many—and the fires they cause—have got to affect the atmosphere.”

“I just hope there’s nothing worse up there in those clouds than ash and crap like that,” said Imani.

“What about the green stuff?”

Imani shrugged. “I haven’t been outside. I’m not a damn fool.”

“Where’s Stella now?”

Imani jerked her chin in the direction of the foyer. “She’s made breakfast, set up lunch, and finished the stew, which she says will last for dinner today and at least tomorrow. I think she’s taking inventory of all the food now. I tried to help, but she said that I’m not a very good sous chef and shooed me away.”

“She’s pretty picky about her kitchen help,” said Mercury. “Took me years to get a passing grade from her.”

Imani shrugged. “I’m not complaining. I can make my auntie’s biscuits. That’s about the extent of my kitchen expertise. Curtis is the cook in the family.” Her face went soft with the memory, and Imani smiled as she spoke. “He loves the kitchen. Curtis can cook anything. His favorite is to make an elaborate breakfast spread on Sundays while I sleep in—with fresh-squeezed OJ for my mimosas. He calls it our family brunch and…” Imani’s words fizzled out. Tears spilled down her warm beige cheeks. “Called, not calls. I have to start thinking of him in the past tense.”

There were no words that would end Imani’s grief, so Mercury pulled her friend into her arms and let her sob.

“Um, you guys okay out there?”

They jumped at Gemma’s voice. She’d cracked the door and was watching them with concerned moss-green eyes.

Imani stepped out of Mercury’s arms and hastily wiped her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt. “Sorry—we didn’t mean to wake you.”

Gemma yawned. “That’s okay. I’m starved. Hey, uh, there’re clothes and stuff piled on the couch. Would anyone care if I borrowed something? What I wore yesterday is super gross.”

“Stella found some clothes for you. I’ll show you,” said Imani. “But first we need to talk.”

“Who died?” Gemma switched from teenager to healer in a breath. “Come on. Show me what clothes are for me. I need to give Doc Hilary some backup. She’ll be real upset if another—”

“No one died!” interrupted Mercury. “Or at least I don’t think anyone did. Did they?” she asked Imani.

“No. I don’t think so. Everyone looked alright to me.”

“Well, then why do you look like someone died?”

“Let’s go back inside,” said Mercury.

She and Imani went inside the suite, with Gemma on their heels. Karen was rubbing her eyes. She squinted up at them from her trundle.

“What time is it?”

“Midmorning,” Mercury said quickly as she and Imani led the teenager to the sitting area of the suite. Over her shoulder she told Karen, “I hear Stella made breakfast. She also brought clothes in for all of us.”

“Do you think there might be coffee somewhere?” Karen asked as she gingerly stood and massaged her temples.

“There’s coffee in the foyer,” said Imani. “I recommend lots of water and an analgesic for that hangover.”