by A. J. Colby
I didn’t think the big furry caterpillars masquerading as Dermot’s eyebrows could rise any higher up his broad forehead, but I was proven wrong when they leapt almost all the way up to his hairline.
“How did you get on the wrong side of a bloodsucker?”
“Cordova’s got me looking into the vamp murders.”
Eyes widening at the mention of Cordova’s name, he asked “Doing favors for the Shepherd are ye?”
“Just trying to keep the lights on,” I answered while shaking my head. For some reason I felt compelled to make sure the craggy-faced fae knew I wasn’t happily consorting with the undead.
Dermot nodded at my answer, but continued to cast skeptical looks in my direction as Alyssa went about cleaning his wounded hand and applying a generous smear of a thick, pale green ointment that smelled of lavender and peppermint.
Sensing something in Dermot’s guarded expression and the stiff set of his shoulders, I asked, “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the attacks would you?”
“Och no, and very glad of it too. I’ve no interest in the workings of vampires and wolves. And I’d advise ye to do the same.”
“That’s unavoidable, I’m afraid.”
“Aye?”
“Aye,” I replied, forcing a smile.
“Vamps are nothing but trouble, lassie,” he said, lifting his gaze from where Alyssa was wrapping a clean bandage around his hand to pin me with an intent look. “You’d do well to stay away.”
“That’s probably true, but I’ve got to eat. Besides, it’s not just the vamps that are involved; the weres are caught up in all this too. They’ve lost people on both sides now.”
“And you feel ye owe it to them to figure out the culprits?”
“I guess so, though I’ll be damned if I know why. I’ve as little to do with Hank and his pack as Cordova and his cronies,” I said, feeling my brows knit together as I pulled at a stray thread on the hem of my shirt. “But someone is out there hurting people, killing people. It shouldn’t matter if the victim’s a vamp or a were, should it?”
When Dermot didn’t answer at first, I glanced back up at him and was surprised to see both him and Alyssa regarding me with matching expressions of bewilderment. As welcoming as they had both been to me, I got the impression that the fae weren’t always so accepting of other supes.
“I suppose you’re right, lassie.”
“I mean, what if it was one of the fae that had been attacked? Wouldn’t you want someone to find out who did it and bring them to justice?”
“Oh aye, I would. But the fae wouldna need help for that,” Dermot replied, the hard edge to his voice as surprising as the sour tilt of his lips.
“What do you mean?” I asked, abandoning the loose thread.
“Never you mind,” he said and then turned to Alyssa. “Am I clear, Doc?”
Pushing a lock of hair back behind her ear, she nodded and scooted her stool back out of the way as the stocky leprechaun hopped down from the exam table. Experimentally flexing the fingers of his bandaged hand, Dermot nodded and retrieved his baseball cap from where it sat on the table. Wrestling it down over his thick hair, he made sure his cap was straight, and then approached me, his expression once again serious.
“Be careful, lassie. Vamps and weres have a way of tangling others up in their troubles. Mind you dinne get caught.” Giving my shoulder a squeeze on the way by, he strode out, his work boots stomping heavily down the stairs.
When his steps had faded away I turned back to Alyssa and asked, “What was that about?”
“Some very sound advice.”
I was surprised by her reply, and it took me a moment to find my tongue. “You agree with him?”
For a long while she remained silent as she cleared up the used swabs and gauze from treating Dermot’s hand. Finally she paused in front of me as she screwed the lid back on the lavender and peppermint scented salve. “It’s different for fae. We rarely trust outsiders.”
“You trust me,” I countered with a smile.
“That’s... different,” she replied, turning away to gather the last of the trash.
I had a good idea of what made me an exception to the rule, but as glad as I was of the fact she’d befriended me because of my connection with Darius, I still felt a reflexive flicker of offense.
“So, what, you just ignore vamps and weres killing each other as long as a fae doesn’t get hurt?”
“Essentially, yes,” she replied with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. “It’s not our concern.”
“How can you say that?” I asked as the warmth of anger spread through my chest. “You’re a doctor!”
I watched her move across the room to put the jar of ointment back in one of the cabinets, setting it down beside a dozen other glass jars containing mysterious concoctions and salves. Turning to face me, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the edge of the counter. “Vampires and weres have been killing each other, and themselves, for centuries. We’ve tried to intervene in the past, always with a great cost of life on all sides. It is our belief that their disagreements are their own. All I can do is patch them up when they cross my threshold and hope they won’t come back in a body bag.”
“This isn’t just a disagreement. Someone is killing people, and as far as I can tell, with no reason.”
“There’s always a reason,” she said, maintaining eye contact with me for several heartbeats. “Now, let me take a look at that shoulder.”
Frowning at the cryptic nature of fae, I slipped out of my jacket and peeled off my t-shirt before taking Dermot’s vacated seat on the exam table. Still, I couldn’t shake off the traces of anger that forced me to sit ramrod straight and clench my hands where they lay atop my thighs.
My tense posture didn’t go unnoticed, and after a moment, Alyssa asked, “What’s wrong, Riley? You didn’t seem this bothered the last time I saw you.”
“I don’t know, it feels different now. I guess I’ve had time to think about it all since then.”
“And?” she prompted, using a gentle touch to peel away the tape holding the bulky gauze pad in place.
“One of the victims, he was married to his Day Servant. They loved each other.”
The subtle arch of her brows told me she was as surprised by the revelation as I’d been.
“I had heard that was becoming more common, and I suppose it makes sense; the bond between a vampire and their Day Servant is very strong.”
“It was more than that,” I said, willing her to understand the emotions I didn’t quite comprehend myself. “She was so heartbroken. It was like whoever murdered him killed a part of her too.”
Pausing in her actions, she looked at me with soft violet eyes. “Surely, you’ve felt that way when you’ve lost a loved one.” Alyssa knew some of my history, though not all the depressing and bloody details, but enough for her to know that she was hitting close to home.
A lump of emotion rose in my throat at her words, and it took a great deal of effort to push it back down as I recalled the cold emptiness I had felt each time I’d lost someone. My mom had been the first, disappearing like a thief in the night on Christmas Eve when I was six. My dad came next, dying in combat while deployed in Bosnia when I was eleven. I’d hoped that would be the end of my loss, for a while at least, but fate was a cruel bitch and seemed to be gunning for me. Five years later I experienced loss again when my grandfather died in a car accident after suffering a heart attack. The death of my grandmother had been the final straw, and as I’d said goodbye to her cancer stricken body I’d sworn that I’d never let anyone get that close again. I didn’t think I could survive having another piece of my heart torn away.
But people are like a disease, they always find a way in.
“I have,” I replied, my words coming out as brittle as fractured glass.
“And yet it surprises you?”
“What does?” I asked, growing tired of playing twenty questions. It hadn’t
taken long after meeting Alyssa to learn that the fae rarely said anything in three words if they could use fifty. It made conversations with the succubus tiring at times.
“That vampires could love.”
“I guess not,” I admitted. “I thought they were all just a bunch of power hungry douches who liked to prey on the weak.”
The loudness of Alyssa’s laughter startled me and brought an embarrassed flush to my cheeks. “Not all vampires are monsters. It’s the same with weres, as you know.”
“Some of them are though. I mean come on, do you really think Cordova gave Chrismer flowers and chocolates for Valentine’s Day?”
“Monsters hide everywhere, Riley.”
I was still mulling over her words when she let out a grunt of consternation as she palpated the skin around the vamp bite on my shoulder. Never a comforting sound coming from mechanics, lawyers, or medical professionals, I turned an inquisitive eye towards her.
“Everything okay?”
“It’s the strangest thing,” she mused more to herself than me. “You should be completely healed by now. The attack was, what, 30 hours ago? But you’ve barely healed at all.”
“I figured it was just some weird vamp thing, like my reaction to the venom.”
Making another small noise in the back of her throat she pulled a penlight from the pocket of her lab coat to shine a beam of light on the wound.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
POKING AND PRODDING me until I felt like a high school lab experiment, Alyssa declared the slowed healing of the vamp bite a mystery.
“I don’t know why it’s not healing like it should,” she said with an irritated sigh as she tucked the penlight back into her pocket and reached for a stack of fresh gauze pads. “All I can tell you is to keep an eye on it, and if it starts to look weird in any way come back and see right away.”
“Aye, aye Cap’n,” I said, earning a derisive snort.
“Who am I kidding?” she asked. “You wouldn’t know how to do what you’re told if your life depended on it.”
“Hey! I resemble that remark.”
“That’s the problem,” Alyssa muttered, though she tempered her words with an affectionate smile. “Why don’t you make yourself useful while I clean up and go grab us some dinner from downstairs? I keep the cash box stashed behind the paper towels on the rack over there.”
“No worries, dinner’s on Cordova,” I said, digging a crumpled wad of cash out of my jacket pocket.
* * *
I was licking an errant drop of hot mustard from my thumb when the sound of screeching tires brought my head up from the take-out container balanced on my knees.
“What the hell?” I asked, glancing towards Alyssa who wore a look of dread.
My expression shifted to match hers at the panicked voices drifting up the stairs, accompanied by the coppery scent of blood under laid by the smell of freshly cut grass I’d come to associate with Dermot. A moment later the owner of the louder voice staggered through the doorway in a blood stained dark green jumpsuit, and I was prompted to do a double-take. He could have been Dermot’s older brother, so strong was the resemblance between them. A thickly muscled arm was wrapped around a battered mess I was pretty sure was Dermot beneath all the blood and bruises, but from the sheer amount of blood covering the front of the leprechaun’s overalls I wondered if he was even still alive.
“Quick, put him over here,” Alyssa directed, pointing to the exam table as she dumped the rest of her dinner in a nearby trashcan.
“What happened?” I asked, dancing back as Dermot’s limp body was hoisted onto the table.
“What does it look like, you ruddy fool?” Dermot’s doppelganger asked, his voice deeper and rougher than the unconscious leprechaun’s. “He was attacked.”
Chastised, I shrank back against the wall of cabinets to stay out of the way as Alyssa went to work. The succubus it seemed, had other ideas.
“Riley, grab some gloves and give me a hand.”
“W-what can I do?” I asked, moving forward in jerking steps. I was desperate to help, but reluctant to get in the way.
“Apply pressure here,” she said, pointing to a spot buried beneath the almost black fabric of Dermot’s overalls as she thrust a wad of gauze at me.
Not waiting for me to approach, she tore away the sodden fabric, leaving it to hang in bloody ribbons over the edge of the table. I almost gagged on the bile that rose in the back of my throat and felt my eyes burn with unshed tears as I gazed at the exposed wounds. The attack that had infected me with the lycanthropy virus had granted me the rare opportunity to know what it looks like when your insides are on the outside, but even the wounds I had suffered seemed insignificant compared to the brutality that had been dealt to Dermot.
I wasn’t sure I would’ve recognized him if not for the thick thatch of bright red hair, looking all the brighter against the pale skin of his face. One bright blue eye fluttered intermittently while the other was swollen entirely shut. Where his skin wasn’t deathly pale, it was marked by black and purple bruises and dark smears of blood, some of it dried and some of it still oozing from numerous cuts and scrapes.
“Dermot?”
He didn’t stir at the sound of my voice, and I was almost glad he wasn’t conscious enough to answer me because it also meant he wasn’t aware of the agony his body must have been in. In some way I was grateful that my lack of medical knowledge made it impossible to know what I was looking at. I didn’t want to know what the glimpses of grey and white beneath the sea of red were.
“How... how is he still alive?” I heard someone ask in a hoarse whisper only to realize a second later that it was me.
“Through a wish and a prayer,” Alyssa replied, her voice suspiciously thick too. “Now, quick, press here,” she instructed, grabbing my hand and directing it to an oozing wound.
Choking back my desire to scream, I obeyed, grimacing at the sickening feel of things sliding wet and viscous beneath my fingers. It was a feeling I recalled all too well, and it took every ounce of my self-control to keep the sudden flare of panic at bay.
Not now, I told myself. You can fall apart later, but right now Dermot needs you to keep it together.
Smothering my panic, I grit my teeth to keep my sobs at bay, and narrowed my focus down to obeying Alyssa’s terse commands.
* * *
“Damn you to hell, you stubborn bastard!” Alyssa snarled as she tossed another handful of sodden gauze at her feet where it landed with a sickening splat. Almost as pale as her patient, she was in a state of dishevelment I’d never seen before. Frizzy wisps of fiery red hair were sticking up in a dozen different directions making her look as though she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Her lips were compressed into a pale, thin line and trembled as though she were on the edge of tears.
I felt the impact of blood splattering my jeans as little more than afterthought as I swiped at the trickle of sweat sliding down from my temple with my arm. In just a few minutes, Alyssa’s typically quiet and orderly clinic looked as though it had been transformed into the triage unit in a war zone. At its epicenter stood the pale-faced succubus and I, hunched over Dermot’s prone body as we worked hurriedly to staunch the flow of blood. The problem was that there didn’t seem to be a way to stop the bleeding, his entire abdomen was a ruin of torn flesh and exposed innards. Despite my lack of medical knowledge, I was fairly certain that if the blood loss didn’t kill him, infection likely would. Still, I applied pressure where I was directed, refusing to acknowledge the resigned voice in the back of my mind that told me it was a futile effort. I wouldn’t give up until Alyssa did, and from the crazed look in her violet eyes, she wasn’t done fighting yet.
“Alastair, go downstairs to the kitchen and fetch me a large pot of boiling water,” Alyssa commanded without looking up from where her hands worked to clamp off a severed blood vessel steadily oozing.
For a second the older man looked like he wouldn’t move from where he stoo
d near the doorway, his face made all the more pale by the bright red hair spilling over his forehead from beneath his baseball cap.
“Now!” Alyssa snapped, and with a jolt he lurched into motion. Giving a short, sharp nod, he spun and bolted out of the door.
“What’s the water for?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she replied, meeting my gaze across Dermot’s wide barrel chest. “I just need him out of the room; he won’t want to see this.”
I didn’t get the chance to ask what before she pushed her small, delicately boned hands into the open cavity of Dermot’s abdomen, the wet sound of her fingers moving through things unseen making the room wobble.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Riley. I need you to hold him down. He’s not going to like this.”
I wanted to snap that I doubted anyone would like the feel of her hands immersed in their guts, but kept my mouth shut and instead swallowed my bile and nodded numbly. My hands shook when I settled them on his shoulders, his skin cool and clammy beneath my fingers, but no one else cared.
Removing her hands, now appearing to be wearing a pair of crimson gloves, she spread her fingers over Dermot’s chest, hovering just beyond touching the curls of his chest hair, made all the redder by the blood that had stiffened it into a thick pelt, and muttered something under her breath. I didn’t catch the words she whispered, but I felt the power of them when the air thickened, pressing against me until I was forced to wiggle my jaw to pop my ears.
“Alright, hold him down, and no matter what happens don’t let go until I say.”
Nothing happened at first, but then I didn’t know what was supposed to be happening. I waited, anxiously listening for each strained breath of the unconscious leprechaun. Gradually I became aware of a building energy in the air; at first it was little more than a faint crackle of static electricity that buzzed in the frizzy curls resting on my shoulders, but slowly it grew until every inch of my skin tingled and itched as if I was standing beneath a power line.