âBack off, alien slime shit,â I growled, teeth bared. âGet out of my head and stay out!â
As if in reaction to the rebuff, Cory relaxed and his eyes fluttered closed.
âYeah, damn straight,â I said, voice quavering, then regrouped and reassessed. Iâd fended off the mental crap, but I remained stuck. And Cory wasnât breathing. âCory?!â
No response, but the slow, steady beat of his pulse under my fingers gave me a whisper of reassurance. Not breathingâbut not dead.
Iâll take it.
The slime still held me fast, but the consistency had shifted to more like a rubbery gel with a bit of give to it.
Pellini skidded into the room. âWhat theâ! Jesus! How long until EMS gets here?â
âI havenât called anyone yet,â I snapped. âMaybe you could give me a hand here? Iâm stuck. Gloves are in my side pocket.â
Pellini took in the bizarre situation: Cory covered in a thick layer of red glowing gel and me sprawled half on top of him. A lesser man would have walked right back out. But not Pellini. The picture of calm, he retrieved the gloves from my pocket and tugged them on. âHow are his vitals?â
âHeart rate sixtyish. Respirations
zero
. Gel from hell. Now please help me get loose.â
Pellini gave a slow nod as he peered at my trapped hands. âIâll call dispatch as soon as youâreââ
âNo! What could they do? Itâs not like he ate a bad tuna sandwich or jabbed a screwdriver in his eye! Heâll end up in a bureaucratic nightmare with people who have no clue what to do with this shit.â
âAnd you do?â Pellini moved to the other side of the bed.
I glared at him. âBetter than anyone else would.â
He leaned forward to examine Cory, and I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting at him to hurry. His way of seeing the arcane was different than mine and, I hoped in this case, better.
âThe slime-gel is all one piece,â Pellini finally said. âA full-body mucus wetsuit. Both physical
and
arcane.â
âI figured that much out when it grabbed me,â I muttered. âIs there an origin point or source? Somewhere itâs more concentrated?â
âUh huh. Damn.â He peered closer. âItâs like someone shoved a radioactive arcane pool ball in his gut.â
âA tumor?â That fit the arcane disease theory.
Pellini gave me a hell-if-I-know shrug. âItâs solid. Dense. And spitting out god knows what.â
With Pelliniâs guidance, I located the tumor with my othersight,
felt
it as a low level ache behind my eyes. And, surprise surprise, it carried the same resonance as the brain roar. âOkay, first order of business is to get me free of this crap. Can you lay a few Pellini-pygahs around it? Maybe if this thing chills out a bit itâll loosen its hold.â
Pellini moved his hands in simple patterns over Cory. âAnd if it doesnât?â
âJeez, nice positive attitude. Itâll work.â The ache behind my eyes wavered as Pellini wove his sigils. I retraced my mental pygah and envisioned the tumor swaddled in a blanket of serenity.
Everythingâs cool
, I thought to it.
Nothing to worry about
. After a moment, the hell gel softened enough for me to wigglemy fingers, but I resisted the temptation to jerk away. Before, pulling had only made it tighten its grip like a Chinese finger trap.
The gel softened a bit more. âThatâs it, you vile little lump,â I murmured. âKeep it up and youâll move off Santaâs naughty list in no time.â
Pellini added another sigil, and the ache behind my eyes dulled a notch. I eased out, millimeter by millimeter. The instant my knuckles cleared the gel, I yanked my hands free then shook them hard. âIt
worked
.â
âThatâs why you make the big bucks,â Pellini said, gaze still on Cory.
I flexed my fingers. My