She wasn’t boiling hot now. That was good. Her mind felt hazy from the fever, and all her muscles ached like she’d run a marathon. It took a while to realize she was in her own bed. There was a creak of wood; someone was sitting in the chair, reading by the light of a dim lamp. “Dad?” “No honey, it’s Carmela.” “Carmela?” The brain wasn’t cooperating. It felt like it was full of week-old pudding. When she didn’t reply, the woman added, “The Guild’s doctor?” “Oh, yeah, sorry,” Riley said, trying to sit up. “Where’s my dad?” The doctor didn’t answer, but Riley’s memory did, slitting through the fog with frightening clarity. Dad’s gone. The tears wouldn’t come. Why didn’t I die? I’d have been okay with that. More bad memories trooped in like an avenging army: She’d caught a demon and lost it, but not before it had ripped her to shreds. Riley tried shifting her left leg, but she couldn’t feel it. Maybe they’d sliced it off. They’d probably give her one of those high-tech titanium legs, like some of the soldiers used.
