Courts and Cabals 2 G.S. D'Moore (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖

important people always had the penthouse. I was in ratty jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt; not exactly what you want to meet the Secretary General in.

The door dinged and opened to an expansive entry way. Light streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows, plush carpets covered everything, and beautiful, well-dressed people went about their morning business. The whole area screamed power, wealth, and privilege; which might be why several people were giving me the stink eye.

“Follow me,” Vernon pointed to a nearby hallway.

I took a step off the elevator and grunted. “Ow,” I massaged the stitch in my side that sprang up out of nowhere.

“Are you okay?” Becky mocked as she shouldered me aside. “Did we have one too many pancakes this morning?”

“Kill her with kindness,” I reminded myself, but her baby-talk act was fucking annoying.

“I’m good. Just a little tired from fucking your mom last night,” I grinned. You couldn’t go wrong with a good mom joke.

Becky growled, but didn’t slug me. There were too many people watching. I followed Vernon to the offshoot hallway. Despite the twenty-foot walk, my breathing grew heavy, and when we reached the door, my stomach did a somersault.

“Ugh,” a wet burp worked its way up my throat.

“Maybe the bacon was bad,” I wondered as my stomach rebelled. I like it extra crispy. It looked extra crispy, but you can never be sure.

“Stop fucking around, Dupree,” Becky was bringing up the rear, and she pushed me roughly through the door into the hallway.

“I’m not,” I snapped back, and this time, I tasted the puke in the back of my throat. “I need a bathroom!”

I rushed toward the plaque on the wall that said shitter in twenty different languages. Everything was coming back up, but I had the dignity to hold it in my mouth until I was over the porcelain throne. Then, my whole body heaved in rebellion as I spewed up everything I’d ever eaten.

“Damn, that’s rank,” Vernon and Becky rushed in after me, but quickly backed out as the stench wafted around the small space.

“Are you okay?” there was a touch of concern in the werewolf’s tone.

“Did you guys fucking poison me?” my yell echoed around the bowl I still had my face in. “I’m cooperating with you. There’s no need to pull a Kremlin on me,” I managed before round two came spewing out of me. “Oh no,” my stomach gurgled dangerously. I gasped for air, ripped off my jeans, and got my ass into position before I erupted from the other end.

I felt like my pathetic groan echoed through the whole floor. Everyone could hear me puking and shitting my guts out. Vernon stuck his head in with his nose firmly pinched together. If it was horrible for me, I couldn’t imagine what a shifter smelled.

“Let me call the docs to get you something,” he suggested.

I appreciated the offer, but the last bout seemed to clear everything out. “No, I’m good,” I sagged against the wall, as my stomach started to settle. “Let’s get this over with so I can get the hell out of here.”

The miracle in all of this was that I hadn’t shit or puked all over myself. I washed up, and rejoined the two shifters in the hallway. Becky gave me an apprehensive look, but I ignored her.

“Last door on the left,” Vernon stated, and led the way.

I made it about three steps before a spasm shook my whole body. This time, it wasn’t my stomach. It was like someone hit my bones with a tuning fork. Pain exploded everywhere, stars burst in my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor.

“What the fuck, Dupree?” Becky wasn’t buying it, but Vernon looked genuinely concerned.

“I . . .” I couldn’t get anything else out. My throat closed up like I was having an allergic reaction; except, I wasn’t allergic to anything.

“Fuck it, I’m calling the . . .” Vernon was cut off as the door behind us burst open and a team of EMT’s rushed in with a stretcher. “Thank the gods, I . . .”

“We’ll check on him later, we’ve got . . .” the team leader was already running past them and down to the last door on the left.

“What the hell?” Vernon watched the EMT’s head for their destination. “Somethings wrong.”

“No shit, sherlock,” I coughed. Dark red splashed across the rug. “What the hell is going on?” I groaned, as more pain lanced through me. You could have offered me a billion dollars to move an inch, and I couldn’t have done it. That’s how much this fucking hurt. That was saying a lot since I’d literally been impaled on the end of a troll’s sword.

“Come on,” Vernon scooped me up in his arms like I was some helpless baby.

It hurt like a motherfucker, and I’ll admit I started to cry. My entire body was rebelling for no reason.

“He’s fucking with you, Vernon,” Becky still looked skeptical.

“He’s coughing up blood,” the werewolf shot back. “Somethings up. I can feel a disturbance . . .” he trailed off, because the EMT’s came bursting out of the room with a body on the stretcher.

Whoever they were, they looked like battered shit. My guess would be some woman who’d just been curb stomped by an angry mob of sexists. It was that fucking bad. Her face was black and blue, lips split and bleeding. Blood streamed from her nose, mouth, eyes, and fresh puke was all over her front. As they wheeled her toward us, her body went into convulsions.

I could relate to that. As the EMTs got closer, the more pain racked my body. It felt like an angry god was hammer-fisting me for shits and giggles while I lay there helpless. Even Vernon struggled to hold on