The Green's Hill Novellas by Amy Lane

into his other form and get this shite out of his blood unless you heal him first. His wound is still open from the bite—hurry.”
    With that, Lambent grabbed Daniel’s arm and hauled him back. Together, he and Daniel stood with the big brown cat and the cop who kept petting her and watched the tableau of Whim and Charlie in the center of their magic place on Whim’s most powerful day of the year.
    None of it made sense to Daniel. Whim used the silver knife to make a small cut on his finger and then took Charlie’s hand in his own, opening the wound and rubbing the blood together. The wounds began to glow, and then Whim began to sing.
    From where Daniel was standing, it sounded like “The Little Drummer Boy.”
    Even the stoic cop’s eyes grew wide. “Interesting choice,” he observed, and Lambent shushed him even as he nodded a rather befuddled agreement.
    And then none of them had words. The glow increased, grew brighter, intense, a blinding mixture of blue, red, and gold light, culminating in a cornea-blasting silver that engulfed the two lovers in the clearing.
    Whim kept singing, though he fell to his knees still cradling Charlie’s wasted body against his chest, and the light swirled and blurred around them. Still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not to cure Charlie, not to help Whim, until Whim’s voice, ragged and cracked and bleeding, tore across the clearing. “ Please, Goddess, please…. ” And then the glow exploded around them until the little gathering of watchers had to cover their eyes.
    When the glow faded and Daniel could see past the spots playing in his vision, he blinked and saw a miracle.
    Charlie was sitting up in Whim’s arms, and his hair had grown back. He was still thin and looked as though he had been ill, but even in the moonlight, Daniel could see that his face was flushing and his cheeks had color and his breathing was even and healthy.
    That was it. His miracle. Charlie was going to live.
    He took one excited step across the clearing when a hand on his arm stopped him. He looked in surprise to see the girl there instead of the cat. She was naked and apparently didn’t give a shit, and she was glaring up at him with unfriendly amber eyes.
    “You don’t think he’s yours again, do you?” she asked in a feline growl, and some of Daniel’s glee faded.
    “I… I thought he was here to say good-bye. I…. Now that he’s going to live, I mean… he’s got a life now, right?”
    “Not with you,” the girl said, her voice flat.
    “Renny,” Max-the-cop warned, and Renny gave him the equivalent of a cat flipping its tail. Max rolled his eyes, muttered something that sounded like, “No sex for you,” and then let her finish.
    “They’re bonded , Daniel,” she hissed. “Whim just pledged his life to Charlie’s, as long as they’re faithful. That means if he goes back to you, Whim just gave up his life so you can have a security blanket.”
    Daniel sucked in a breath and looked back to the two of them, murmuring in the middle of the clearing as though nothing had happened, telling each other the important things in their lives. He didn’t bother asking how this tiny girl-cat would know what his relationship with Charlie was like. That was the least of his worries. She spoke the truth. He’d been prepared to give Charlie up to death. He’d even reconciled himself to it. He’d spoken promises about caring for himself, living up to his potential, becoming the man he’d promised to be instead of the clinging, careless boy he’d been when Charlie had taken him into his life. Did Charlie’s life really make those promises less valid?
    He swallowed hard and nodded soberly at Renny. He understood, he thought painfully. He got it. He walked thoughtfully to where the two lovers were, and this time Renny let him.
    “You will like the hill,” Whim was saying softly. “Especially as a cat. There are lots of things to play with. The sprites love to play with the werecreatures.