Chapter 8

Kit Baxter opened her eyes and stared for a moment at the dingy, unfamiliar tiles on the ceiling above her.

She felt the hard, lumpy cot beneath her digging into her back, and suddenly remembered where she was.

She settled back into the cot with a contented sigh that few could have matched in her surroundings.

She was in a small room in a windowless basement, a hidden apartment with sparse furnishings,

but ample emergency medical equipment, one of their many safe houses.

The Red Panda had established most of them before taking her on as a partner, and they

were all utilitarian to a fault. This one, on the border of

the Warehouse District, south of the Parkdale neighborhood, was only a few blocks away from the

site of the explosion the other night. Kit frowned at the thought. She knew she had taken a knock

to the head as they had escaped through the window, seconds ahead of a wall of fire. But just how long ago

that was, she couldn't even begin to say. She had been in and out of consciousness four or five

times since then, never for very long. She turned her head to meet the movement she heard

coming from down the hall. She smiled as the red panda peeked around the corner hesitantly,

as if careful not to disturb

her.

"'I thought I heard something,' he grinned.

She blinked up at him.

"'Why is it the only time we get to play house is when one of us is out cold?'

He frowned a little.

"'I don't think I understand the question,' he admitted.

She sighed, just a little.

...