Slow Shift Nazarea Andrews (most difficult books to read .TXT) 📖

“Keep him on his side,” John says, crouching near Lucas. “I called the paramedics. No, don’t put anything in his mouth, just hold him still.” His voice is calm, soothing, and Tyler is vaguely aware that Chase’s pounding heartbeat slows as he speaks, steadies into something approaching normal for the boy.

He falls to his knees next to his brother and helps Chase keep him still as Lucas shakes and shudders.

~*~

“If you’re calling, you know what to do.”

His grip tightens on the phone. It’s the first time in over a year he’s heard his sister’s voice, the first time he’s called her. And it’s a fucking voicemail.

“Chelsea. It’s Tyler. I—I need you to call me back.” He licks his lips, clears his throat, and stares at the bed where Lucas is lying, hooked up to machines he doesn’t understand. “It’s Lucas. He... I need you to call me back, Chelsea.”

He hangs up before he can start begging. He’s done that far too much already.

Chase is pressed against the bed, slumped over, his head pillowed on Lucas's hand, sleeping. They’ve been here for hours already, and every time John made noises about leaving, Chase dug his heels in. So far John hasn’t made an issue of it, but Tyler isn’t stupid enough to think he won’t eventually.

But having Chase close is helping. He knows it is. Even if it doesn’t help Lucas, it’s helping Tyler.

“What happened?” he hears John asking the nurse, a pretty dark-haired woman Chase greeted by name with a familiar smile. Ben’s mother, if the name was any indication. It always rubs him strange when Tyler’s face to face with evidence that Chase has a life that doesn’t include him.

“I don’t know—his tests—John, he’s fine. He’s stable. There’s no reason for him to be like this.”

“For the seizures?” John clarifies.

“No,” Marie says gently, “to be catatonic.”

~*~

He waits until morning. When Chase stumbles into the room with coffee and donuts, trailed by his father, looking cautious and a little exasperated—Tyler knows he’s put it off as long as he can.

“I don’t have—I can take him with me,” John says, looking at Tyler, and Chase yelps a protest.

“He’s fine,” Tyler says hoarsely, “Lucas likes having him around.”

John gives him a doubtful look but he nods firmly. Chase squirms into the chair he’d claimed the night before, settling in and clearly not planning on moving, so John sighs in concession. “Give me a call if you need anything, Chase. Tyler, same goes for you.”

Tyler startles but Chase nods, waves his dad away. “We’re fine. Go catch some bad guys, Dad.”

John rolls his eyes and leaves them there.

Chase is quiet for a long time, long enough for Tyler to eat his breakfast and finish most of his coffee, before he looks away from Lucas and stares at Tyler. “Why did you two react to Brielle like that?”

~*~

Chase is smart. More than that, Chase is Pack. As dangerous as the Drakes are—maybe because the Drakes are dangerous—Tyler takes a deep breath and speaks the truth.

~*~

“I’m a werewolf.”

Chase blinks at him, still and patient as Tyler fidgets. The last person he told that secret to tried to kill him, had succeeded in killing most of his family.

“That doesn’t tell me why the hell Brielle freaked you and Lucas out.”

Tyler stares at him dumbly, taken aback by Chase’s lack of reaction. He flounders for a moment before saying, “Um.... She’s a Drake. They’re a coven of witches—witches who like to police our world of shifters and fae and other supernaturals—and our family has a history with the Drakes.”

Chase hums thoughtfully. “That makes sense. She said some of her cousins lived here a few years ago.”

Something tight and twisted in his gut squirms uncomfortably. “Is that really what you’re focused on right now?”

“I’m focused on anything that upsets you like that and causes Lucas to have fucking seizures, yeah.”

“Language,” Tyler chides automatically, and Chase gives him a dirty glare. “I’m—you heard what I said, right?”

“The grr thing?” Chase says, making a clawing gesture with his hand. “Yeah. We can talk about that when we aren’t surrounded by strangers. But you’ve never lied to me. I can’t imagine you’d start now. There’s easier ways to ditch the weird kid who won’t leave you alone.”

Tyler snarls at that and Chase gives him an unimpressed raised eyebrow.

“So what are we doing about Lucas?”

~*~

Tyler, Chase figures out quickly, has no clue how to deal with hospitals—or sick people, which given the werewolf reveal, makes a lot of sense.

Chase has too much experience with hospitals. He has Marie Lodge pulling every string in her pretty arsenal to get him answers about Lucas and get him discharged. The problem is no one knows what the hell is wrong with him. They don't know why he had a seizure or why he’s nonresponsive, and Tyler can't give them anything to work with because he's worse than useless when it comes to frail human things.

Chase bullies Tyler into going home for a shower and change of clothes by complaining that he's hungry until he folds, nodding and retreating while giving Lucas and Chase anxious eyes.

“Silly wolf,” Chase huffs under his breath, and he feels his phone vibrate a moment later.

>>I can hear you.

Chase flushes but shrugs. “Then remember to get curly fries.”

The room falls quiet. He stares at Lucas for a long time, then says softly, “Those dreams make a lot more sense now. Kinda creepy though.”

He shifts, wraping a hand around Lucas's wrist. Immediately he feels better, some of the itchy anxiety settling a little. “I know you don't like Brielle, but I think she's safe. And if she isn’t, I won't let her hurt you. I won't let her hurt either of you.”

~*~

“Dad?”

John looks up, startled to see Chase standing in the doorway of his office. Chase barely leaves the hospital unless John drags him away. It’s been four days since Lucas Reid collapsed in his police station and no one knows why, but there’s been something quietly