Midmorning sun stabbed into my eyes when I finally found the wherewithal to open them. I groaned and tried to raise a hand to shield my eyes, but the damn thing wouldn't cooperate. It flopped weakly and fell back onto the thin, scratchy blankets I'd come to associate with hospitals. An assortment of beeps nearby supported the theory. I couldn't remember why I was in the hospital or for how long, but having my bearings did make me feel better. For a few seconds, at least.

When I turned my head, I found myself staring at something straight out of the Smithsonian. It was a bronze-plated box with a few knobs and a speaker. The words 'heart monitor' had been engraved at the top. The wide bore IV someone had stabbed into the crook of my elbow was connected to rubber tubing and honest-to-god glass drip bottles. I half-expected a chain-smoking doctor with a pompadour to stroll through the door and tell me how long I had to live.

What actually strolled in was every woman's wet dream. Thomas, wearing only a towel, sodden hair dripping water over his bare torso. I had an overwhelming urge to crawl across the room and lick it off. His shone faintly silver, allure clinging to him like an expensive perfume. They dimmed to an ordinary blue-gray when he took in the sight of me.

"I thought I heard someone moan. Obviously, I had to investigate because I wasn't the cause."

I laughed. Well, it came out more of a wheeze, but it was the thought that counts. "What's with the medical theater?"

Lines appeared between his brows. "It was the only setup your magic didn't foul up. You needed total parenteral nutrition and saline."

I tried to sit up. It must have looked as pathetic as it felt, because Thomas crossed the room in three long strides, bracing my back so I wouldn't collapse boneless into the mattress.

"TPN? Doesn't that seem a little excessive? I was out for a day or so, right? You'd have to hang a banana bag, tops."

Thomas didn't say anything, just stared at me with an alarming intensity. But it was the hand that slid into mine that made my stomach clench. Thomas and I weren't the platonic touching types. This was bad.

"How long was I out?" I whispered.

"A week," he said. "I wouldn't have been surprised if it had stretched to two. You barely survived the deprogramming. Lara's not accustomed to feeding like a Skavis or Malvora. It was imprecise. Too much, on top of everything else you've suffered. Your heart couldn't take it. The House physician had to shock you two or three times before you stabilized. Even then, only this stone-age setup would keep you from dying of dehydration. I had the doctor start TPN around day three."

"A week?" I tried to shout, but it came out as breathless desperation instead. "Why are you still waiting for me? Daniel could be anywhere! He could be dead or worse!"

"Because I need you," he said, pushing me flat again. "It's your name that holds weight in these parts, not mine. Your fake name, anyway. Catherine Lenhardt has serious clout. We arrived in Valladolid early in the week, and one of the Fellowship safehouses has been hiding us ever since."

That was a little bittersweet. I'd lost count of the times Hannah and I had to shut ourselves into a hidden compartment in someone's home, praying the Reds would pass us by. Good people had been hurt and killed while trying to shelter members of the Fellowship. We'd tried to reward them for the risk in whatever way we could. Money, spells, you name it. If it was within our power, we did it.

"You should still be out looking."

Thomas pressed on my shoulder, keeping me down with disgusting ease. The last time I'd been this weak, I'd been recovering from getting a peek at Lasciel's true form.

"I will, just as soon as we meet with the Valladolid cell. Their leader wants to talk to you whenever you're healthy enough to travel. She says her name is Hannah Ascher and that she has an idea of where the Fomor might be keeping Daniel. She's been coordinating for the last few years, trafficking information, instead of fighting."

Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes. Had I heard that right? Hannah was alive, even if she wasn't fighting on the front lines. That had probably driven her up the wall in the beginning. She was like a rangy cat, always on the move, constantly on the lookout for her next adventure. She was still breathing, which was more than I'd dared hope for. More than that, she wanted to see me. Maybe it was to spit in my face for abandoning her, but I'd take it.

I had to clear my throat to speak. "Fomor?"

Thomas sat on the bed, scooting my legs to the side to make room. The towel slipped dangerously, and it was impossible not to look. Sad to say, I was hoping gravity and bad timing would win the battle against a scrap of cloth. It'd been a while since I'd seen him in all his nude glory.

"The timing is ideal, actually. If we'd set off when we'd planned, we'd have walked into it blind. In the days right after the Red Court's fall, the Fomor struck. They've been scooping up practitioners from every corner of the globe, but it's especially bad in the areas the Reds controlled. When they were gone, chaos reigned for a while, so it was difficult to tell when people went missing. Murphy and the Alphas helped rescue the victims they snatched from Chicago."

"That's not particularly illuminating. That explains the why. Who or...what are these Fomor people?"

Thomas chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I only know what I've been told. They're a loose collection of fallen gods who disappeared into the ocean a long time ago. When the Red Court fell, there was a power vacuum and they stepped in to fill it. No one knows exactly what they want with the practitioners they're snatching, but it's safe to assume the end result will be nasty."

I tried to push up onto my elbows again. Thomas pushed me back down. Damn it.

"We need to find Hannah. She'll get us to Daniel. The sooner we go, the sooner we can save him."

"You won't do him any good if you can't stand," Thomas said, voice stern. "You haven't eaten solid food in days. I doubt you can hold a weapon, let alone do magic. You need a shower, some food and water, and more rest. If you can hold your sword tomorrow, we'll talk about meeting with your friend. When we have the information I will be going after Daniel. You look like hell and probably don't feel much better."

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"You're not. But don't take my word for it. Look in the mirror."

Thomas reached past me, plucking something from my bedside table. It was a small, sparkly hand mirror that probably belonged to the daughter of our host. He turned it toward my face with a flourish and smiled grimly at my intake of breath.

My face was thin and gaunt. Purple-black circles shaded the bags beneath my eyes and stretched all the way down to my sharply protruding cheekbones. Sunken blue eyes stared dully back at me. With a little sleep, they might look less dire, but I suspected I'd have a perpetually tired look from this point on. My hair had faded from natural burnished gold to parchment yellow.

"Holy shit," I said, raising a hand to touch the stuff. It felt like my hair. Greasy, but still mine. But it didn't look like it belonged there. "What happened to my hair?"

Thomas paled. "Lara happened. The feeding was deep and her demon was indelicate. Fear and despair don't appeal to us, so it misjudged what was safe to take. It was the cost of freeing you. I imagine she shaved a decade or two off your life. As a wizard, you'll make up the difference more quickly than the average doe."

"Permanent dye job," I mused. "Could be worse."

"Hard to imagine how," he muttered. "You kept trying to die on me. Do you know how shitty it would be to tell Michael I lost his daughter hours after I took her out?"

"Sorry for the inconvenience," I said, and couldn't help a small, mocking smile. "I'll try to be more accommodating of your schedule the next time I drop dead."

Thomas flicked me lightly between the eyes. "Sleep. I'll have Penelope make something bland for breakfast. If you can stand and hold a weapon this evening we'll take off tomorrow."

I wanted to be gone now. Hannah was out there waiting for me, and she could help me find Daniel. Thomas was right. I wasn't going to do anyone favors by collapsing in the middle of a battle.

"Oatmeal," I said, snuggling into the mattress. "And orange juice if they have it."

"Got it. Sweet dreams, Molly."

Thomas walked out the way he came. The towel slipped just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his bare ass.

Sweet dreams indeed.