Elf [Book One of The Elf Chronicles]

Go to hell, Mac.
 It'll help -
 Better still, Quist interrupted. You eat it. That oughta gag you.
 Do you know what trouble I had to go to?! Mac asked him angrily. I'm not exactly mobile!
 So go be immobile somewhere else -
 They were falling into the same patterns as always. His father had wanted him to go with his instincts. Garlic was usually abhorrent to him, but now that he was sick, he was craving it. He couldn't get enough. It might just be the placebo value, but Mac could swear he was already feeling better.
 Quist opened his mouth to argue some more. He felt sick as a dog, and as grouchy as hell. For the first time he was really beginning to wonder whether he and Zander could beat this infection. The doctors were all optimistic, but he could read them. They were stumped.  You have a room, don't y-
 Mac shoved the garlic clove in his mouth.
 Quist nearly choked, accidentally chewed, then started to spit it out. You bastard - he began, then stopped. Damn, that's good, he whispered. Got any more?
 Mac grinned, and shoved a dozen cloves into Quist's hand. Quist popped two in like candy. I can't (chew) believe (chew) this! The last time he'd eaten garlic, he'd thought he was going to die. We need to get some of this to Zander, he said seriously.
 No kidding. Any ideas? Zander was in ICU.
 A few, Quist replied. He gave a shiver and broke out in a sweat. End of fever, he said, surprised. He looked at the garlic clove and smiled. I'll stick some in his IV if I have to.
 Mac just grinned.

***

 Four days later and it was just like old times, when they were the only ones in the world up and about. It had been that way for as long as Mac could remember.
 Zander worked two jobs and jogged home nights to wear off his excess energy. Quist was a musician by trade, and a security guard four nights a week. Mac? Teacher during the day, and painting fool at night.
 Crazy metabolisms. Another thing that made them different.
 Mac decided not to think about it. He was just glad Quist and Zander were back up to night-time wanderings.
 Lowry's sick, Zander whispered. Hate to suggest this, but I overheard something in the ICU. Seems he may have picked up something nasty from yours truly. He looked both guilty and concerned.
 You bastard, Quist said calmly. Or, considering the original source of the infection - you dirty dog.
 Mac rolled his eyes. Garlic in his IV? he asked. It had worked for Zander.
 Zander shook his head. Nope. I've smelled garlic on his breath.
 Quist grimaced. How distasteful.
 If it was going to help him, he probably has enough residual in his system to last him for years, Zander added, with a trace of amusement. He'd noticed that for him - and, apparently, for Quist - the scent of garlic was losing its appeal. Must be a sign of returning health.  You still on the garlic, Mac? he asked casually.
 Yeah. What about it? Mac frowned.
 Nothing. Stay on it.
 And stay in bed for a while, Quist ordered. I'll be your dealer - strictly garlic, that is. He saw the stubborn look on Mac's face and added, Don't worry - I won't let Zander fall out any more windows.
 Zander looked uncomfortable. He pulled himself up on the crutches a little jerkily.