I wriggled out of the tangle of limbs. As I climbed over Clay, I felt the waves of heat coming off him. He gave a low moan, almost too low to hear. Then his arm flew out, narrowly missing my head.

I scrambled up and turned on the bedside lamp. Clay’s color was high, the hair around his face plastered down with sweat.

Nick lifted the pillow from his head. “Wha-?”

“I’m getting Jeremy.”

I pulled on my pants, then grabbed the nearest shirt-Clay’s-and yanked it on as Nick rose from the bed, still blinking back sleep.

“Elena.”

Clay lifted his head from the pillow.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Just the fever coming back.”

He started to sit up, then stopped and wobbled, face going ashen with the sudden movement.

“I’m getting-” I began.

“No, let Nick.”

Nick nodded and brushed past me, scooping up his pants. I hesitated, then nodded and grabbed the bucket of melted ice water as Nick went to get Jeremy.

I was mopping icy water onto Clay’s forehead when Jeremy got there, his feet bare and his shirt undone. Clay started to sit up, but I pushed him back down, and he settled for rolling his eyes at Jeremy.

“She’s overreacting,” he said. “I have a fever. Just let me pop some Tylenol-”

Jeremy popped something else in his mouth-a thermometer. Clay grunted and sank back onto his pillow with a martyred “I’m surrounded” look.

“How high is it?” I asked when Jeremy checked.

“High.”

Clay started to reach for the Tylenol, but Jeremy shook his head. He dumped the capsules into his own hand, and held them to Clay’s lips. Clay rolled his fever-bright eyes at me, then opened up and let Jeremy tend to him.

Nick returned with a fresh bucket of ice, and I wrapped some in my wet towel.

“Enough,” Clay growled. “Give the pills a chance to kick in.”

Jeremy was checking Clay’s arm.

“How bad-?” I began.

“Do you have the number for that doctor?” Jeremy asked quietly. “The sorcerer you met the other day?”

“I don’t need-” Clay began.

“It’s your right arm, so we aren’t taking any chances.” He glanced at me. “Get the number, Elena.”

I called Zoe. The phone rang five times. When the machine answered, I hung up and hit redial. This time, she grabbed it on the second ring.

“Hello, there,” she said before I could say anything. “About time you called. I was beginning to feel-”

“I need Randall Tolliver’s number,” I said quickly.

A pause. “Are you okay?”

“It’s Clay. His arm. It’s-”

“We’llbe right there. Tell me where you are.”

When Tolliver arrived, he cleared Antonio and Nick out of the room, and only let Jeremy stay when it was clear he wasn’t leaving. I couldn’t blame Tolliver for not wanting an audience of supernatural strangers hovering over him, making sure he did his job right.

“It’s infected,” he said, after a quick examination.

“How badly?” I asked.

A nervous glance my way, as if I might pounce if I didn’t like his answer. “It’s…progressing.”

“Gangrene?” Clay said, pushing himself up.

A look crossed Jeremy’s face, and I knew he’d been wondering the same thing.

“Gangrene?” I said. “No, it can’t be, not from a scratch. That’s all it was. A scratch.”

“From a decomposing corpse raised by supernatural means,” Jeremy said.

“Which likely explains the acceleration and the refusal to respond to cleaning,” Tolliver said. “But it isn’t gangrenous. Not…” A glance my way, and he shut his mouth.

“Yet,” Clay finished for him.

A slow nod from Tolliver. “We should still be able to get it under control. Stronger antibiotics is one way to go. Or we can remove some of the infected tissue. The latter would be more likely to work, but would cause scarring-”

“I don’t care about looks,” Clay cut in. “Just function.”

Tolliver hesitated. “It’s…in a bad spot. If I needed to go deep, it might damage the muscle. It shouldn’t have any lasting effect on fine motor skills, like writing.”

“It’s larger motor skills I’m worried about.”

Tolliver nodded, as if this didn’t surprise him.

“If it would stop the spread of infection-” Jeremy began.

“Last resort,” Clay said.

He met Jeremy’s glance with a look that said he’d give in if pushed, but begged Jeremy not to push. I knew what Clay was thinking. If mutts found out Clay was no longer in peak fighting form, there’d be trouble.

Clay met my eyes. “Rather not take that risk.” His gaze dropped to my stomach. “Not now. Antibiotics will be fine.”

“Do you know what can happen if gangrene sets in?” Jeremy asked.

Clay nodded. “It’ll have to come off.”

“Off-?” I sputtered. “What will have to come off?”

I knew the answer, but my brain refused to process it. That couldn’t be what they meant, not with Clay so calm and decisive, as if they were discussing cutting off his hair.

“And even that might not work,” Jeremy said, his gaze locked with Clay’s.