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be.
    “Markus.” Tia’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “The curse
is gone. Shift Alonso to his jackal form to heal.”
    A healthy glow limned the young jackal’s features, his
breathing deep and even. As before, Markus splayed his hand across Alonso’s
chest and spoke the ancient command Sekhanu had taught him to send subordinate
jackals into their animal forms. His shift took longer than Rashon’s, but soon
enough, a sable-colored jackal lay on the cot.
    Markus sat back on his haunches, hope, exhaustion and euphoria
spinning in his gut. “It’s gone, right? I don’t sense any traces of the curse
nearby.”
    She tilted her head, the swirls of power in her eyes fading.
“It should be completely gone. If you and your clan anoint yourself with the
potions we used yesterday—was it yesterday?—before your fights with the Lost
Ones, and use the ritual cleansing afterward, you should have no more
troubles.”
    Using his shoulder for leverage, she pushed herself to her
feet. “I can write down everything you need, but since you’ll need blessings
from a Daughter of Isis, it’ll just be easier for me to make batches of it at my
house.”
    Her words punched a hole in his euphoria. Right. She’d healed
the jackals as she’d promised, and now it was time for him to live up to his end
of the bargain.
    “Of course.” He rose to his feet, irked when she grabbed his
elbow to help him. He pulled away. “I’m fine.”
    “You expended a lot of energy,” she reminded him. “You probably
should shift to recuperate, too.”
    He brushed her concern aside. “As alpha, I’ve got larger
reserves than that. I suppose you need to recuperate the usual way?”
    The glow left her eyes. “No. I don’t have any large magical
works on my plate after this. A few days’ rest and I should be fine....”
    She swayed, and he scooped her up in his arms, holding her high
against his chest. If the limpness of her body was any indication, breaking the
curse for Rashon and Alonso had taken more power than she’d let on. Brave,
foolish witch.
    “How’s Alonso?” Markus asked Hector.
    Hector ran his hand over his brother’s fur. “Sleeping
peacefully for the first time in days, thank the gods.”
    “Good. Get him out of here and into a real bed, okay? The last
thing he should see when he wakes up are these damned bars.”
    “You bet.” Hector looked up, eyes shining. “How’s our
healer?”
    Markus dropped his gaze to Tia, barely refraining from lowering
his head to brush his lips across her temples. “She’s not our healer,” he
retorted, his voice harsher than called for. “In fact, I’m going to honor our
agreement and take her back home today.”
    “Take her back?” Hector repeated. “Why?”
    Markus didn’t feel like explaining something that wouldn’t
sound rational, so he ignored Hector’s question. “Any activity around her
house?”
    Hector bared his teeth. “The men report that no one’s been
there in the two days that she’s been with us. If that’s the concern the
Daughters of Isis show to one of their own, one who happens to be the
granddaughter of their high priestess, then Tia would be better off with
us!”
    Markus gritted his teeth to keep from agreeing with his second.
“She’s not staying here.”
    “Why not? We need her more than they do.”
    Just like Markus needed her more than his fellow jackals did.
He didn’t share that with Hector, however. “I made a deal with her, and I’m
going to keep it. I swore on the gods that she’d go home after she healed our
people. She’s done that, and now it’s time to send her back to her life. We are
the Sons of Anubis. We hold to our duty and our honor when all else falls to
dust.”
    Honor and duty were all that had kept him alive—kept them all
alive—through the centuries. It wouldn’t fill the emptiness in his bed or his
soul, but it was all that he had. He would hold on to it with all his might.

Chapter Seven
    Sensing that Tia