Surviving Doctor Vincent: The Good Doctor Trilogy Book 2

by Renea Mason

  I exited the car before he had time to round the front to open my door. I laughed to myself because the old weathered, wooden structure, with its rusted metal screen door, hardly looked like a place of wonders, but when he placed his hand on the small of my back, my mind drifted back to the activities in the gazebo.

  He opened the door, the hinges creaked, and flakes of red paint fell to the ground when the spring attached to the top snapped it closed with a bang after we entered. An old man behind a counter folded his newspaper and sat up. “Good day.”

  I smiled and inclined my head to the wrinkled, gray haired man with deep lines etched in his face. His eyes twinkled at the prospect of having a customer. Sebastian’s car was the only one in the parking lot.

  Sebastian laced his fingers between mine and picked up a basket from the stack on the floor. “Anything you want, just toss it in here.”

  So normal. Yet so strange.

  He retrieved butter, eggs, and milk from the refrigerated units, produce from wooden racks, and a loaf of bread from a shelf at the front of the store.

  I held the cold milk in one hand while Sebastian held my other. The old man wiped the glass meat counter. “Is there something I can get you?”

  Sebastian leaned down eyeing the selection of poultry. “Yes, the chick...” He dropped the basket, scattering items across the floor—broken eggs everywhere. He released my hand. In the next moment, he bent down, fumbled with his pants, and when he stood again, a gun was in his hand. He trained the weapon on the man in the doorway.

  The witness. Where did Sebastian get a gun?

  “Don’t move.” Sebastian held his arms extended, with the weapon pointing at the man’s head.

  The tall man with a goatee held his hands in the air. “Put the gun down, and let’s talk,” he said with an eerie smile on his face.

  Sebastian stepped over the groceries on the floor, and eased toward the man. “I’m all for talking. Why don’t you start? Who are you?”

  The man’s unshakable eye contact, and the smirk that pulled at the sides of his mouth, were more frightening than Sebastian’s reaction. I glanced back to see the storeowner through the glass of the meat case, watching the scene unfold, with wide, terrified eyes.

  Our stalker turned his head toward me. “Better yet. Why don’t we talk about who she is? What is your name, beautiful one?”

  The man put up no fight when Sebastian slammed him against the checkout counter and placed the gun to his head. “Why are you following us? Who are you?”

  A defiant rumble of laughter left erupted from the stranger. “Kill me, and you’ll never know. But I’ll make you a deal... Tell me why she bears the mark of Charles Lemiux, and I’ll give you my name.”

  “What?” I all but squealed the words. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Stay back, Elaine. Don’t come closer.”

  “No. It’s not ridiculous. Your wrist is how Charles marked his subjects, but I was told they were all dead. You are very much alive. There can only be one explanation.”

  I took a step toward them, and my shoe slid in the slippery egg remnants littering the floor.

  “Elaine,” Sebastian warned in a low growl.

  The man sighed. “Elaine. That is a beautiful name.”

  Sebastian struck the man’s head with the butt of his pistol.

  The man’s head thudded against the wooden counter, and he groaned.

  “It’s impossible. I was in a car accident.”

  The man’s voice lacked the gusto his words once held. “That is Charles’s mark. I have no doubts.”

  “It was caused by shattering glass and part of the fence I crashed into.”

  “You can believe what you want. When Charles chose a subject, he let fate decide if they were worthy. It was part of his ritual, and if they were strong enough to survive, they became his chosen. If not, he left them to die.”

  I took another step, and my right foot slipped, causing me to brace myself on a shelf containing peanuts and potato chips. “This is so much bullshit. You’re just doing this to hurt Xavier.”

  Sebastian chided, “Shut up, Elaine. Don’t say another word,” as he tightened his hold on the man’s throat.

  On a breathy whisper the man chuckled. “Funny how she didn’t ask, Charles who? Or what a subject is? You don’t know what this means. She has to come with me.”

  “What? You are out of your mind.”

  Sebastian jerked and let out an agonizing scream. He released the man just long enough for him to slam his head into the counter. “Get in the car,” he shouted over his shoulder at me.

  Hurrying, my shoes slipped again on the slick floor, sending me crashing to my knees. I caught sight of the knife sticking out of Sebastian’s side and crawled toward him instead of following his command to leave.

  The witness wiggled out from Sebastian’s hold, fell to the ground, and reached into his brown tweed jacket, searching.

  A loud pop sounded through the store, just before the witness jerked, letting out an agonizing scream and clutched his leg.

  Sebastian held the gun steady, but trained it on the man’s other leg. “You’ll never take her, you son of a bitch.”

  The man growled, “You don’t know what you’ve done. She needs me.”

  Sebastian shot him in the other leg and then trained the gun on his head. He commanded, “Elaine...knife.”

  I scooted to his side, across the slippery floor. With both hands, I pulled out the blade lodged deep in his abdomen. Blood flowed from the wound, coating my hands.

  He groaned, trying to stop the bleeding with one hand. “Now get to the car.”

  The witness cried out between gasps of pain. “Elaine, I have a...” Gasp. “...secret...” Cry. “Aren’t you...” Grunt. “curious?”

  Sebastian looked at the dumbfounded market owner. “Call him an ambulance. I want to make sure he lives to tell them that touching her is a death sentence.” He clutched his bleeding side. “Car. Now, Elaine!”

  I wanted to ask the man what he meant, but Sebastian was first priority. I followed his hobbling form to the car. He slid into the driver’s seat.

  “Let me drive,” I demanded.

  He grimaced. “No. Let’s get away from here, and then you can take over. They might be tracking us. We need to find other transportation, and a new place to stay.”

  Not wanting to delay our getaway, I complied. From the passenger seat, Sebastian’s sharp inhalations and muffled groans filled the car. I winced with each audible reminder of the pain he felt.

  Air whistled through his gritted teeth as he slammed both palms against the steering wheel. “Fucking Society.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Stitches

  “Would you hold still?” I reached for Sebastian’s side, wanting to get a better look at the wound.

  He hissed with even my slightest touch. He sat in the driver’s seat with his long legs extended out of the open door of the parked car.

  “I really wish you would go to the hospital. Why do you have to be so stubborn? You should have stopped when I first told you to.”

  His breathing halted with each word. “Which one of us is a doctor?”

  I stared at him for a moment. “The one that’s completely vulnerable.” Wanting to save the T-shirt that adhered to the wound for last, I reached for the button on his pants, intending to lower the waistline.

  He cocked a smile behind his grimace. “Elaine, if you want in my pants, just ask.”

  I shot him an incredulous glare. “If you bleed out, you’re not going to be much use to me, now are you?”

  He started to laugh, but instead groaned from pain. “He didn’t hit anything vital, or I’d already be gone. The blood loss is a concern, however.” He placed two fingers on the inside of his wrist. “My pulse is still strong, but I am feeling light-headed. Could be the pain. It hurts like hell when I talk, or breathe.”

  “Look Mr. Bond... I pulled the knife out of your gut. The blade almost came out th
e other side. Stop being a hero. And shut up if it hurts.”

  I urged him to lean back so I could get a better look.

  “Bond is English. Do you loathe me so much that you’d wish me English?”

  “OK. Inspector Clouseau, this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

  “Hey...that’s not...fuck!” He yelled.

  I yanked the fabric from the wound. The clotted blood caused the raw edges of the injury to stick to the fibers of his shirt. Fresh blood seeped from a gaping hole.

  “You need to go to a hospital. You need stitches.”

  “Nonsense.” He swatted my hand away. “I’m not going to a hospital. Those people from the Society are crazy and unpredictable. And yes, I need stitches. Just listen to me.”

  He shifted and knocked over the bag of supplies he’d ordered me to get from the small mountain apothecary, whose parking lot doubled as our triage center. I lifted the shopping bag to my other hand and pondered the contents.

  “Wait...you’re not thinking of stitching yourself. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “I am a doctor, Elaine. That is what I had originally intended, but no, you’re right, I’m not stitching myself.” Another groan pushed past his gritted teeth as he arched his back. “You’re going to do it.” He grimaced.

  I shook my head. There was no way I could help him. “I can’t.”

  “Yes. You can. Just don’t think about what you’re doing. If we don’t get the bleeding stopped soon, I’m going to go into shock.”

  “Shock? Sebastian, I’ve never...”

  He grabbed my wrist, yanking me to him, and held my face between his bloodstained hands. “Consider this a test, Elaine. We’re going to be spending a considerable amount of time together. You’re as much mine as you are Xavier’s.” He sucked in a deep, shaky breath. “Answer me this...”

  “What?”

  “Do you care about me?” His eyes focused on my lips, awaiting my response.

  I didn’t mean to pause, but his penetrating gaze stifled me. “Of course I do.”

  “What’s more important, your fear, or possibly saving my life?”

  My mouth gaped open. I mouthed words that didn’t come. “That isn’t fair.”

  “I don’t have time for fair, Elaine. I’m feeling the dizziness of blood loss.”

  I tried not to hyperventilate. One look in his glassy eyes and I had no choice. “Just tell me what to do.” I opened the bag and arranged the contents on top of the plastic sack on the ground. Dental floss—non-mint; now the request made sense. Surely, mint flavoring would hurt like a bitch. The other contents—Iodine, a curved sewing needle, tweezers, gauze.

  “Clean your hands in the iodine and then squirt a sizable amount onto the wound.” He gripped the back of the seat to steady himself. Air whistled as he trapped a scream behind his clenched teeth. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, winced, and then refocused on me. “Listen carefully, the dizziness is getting worse. Sterilize the wound with the iodine. Coat the needle in it too and thread the dental floss through the eye. There needs to be at least six stitches spaced evenly. Start at one end, lift the skin slightly and push the needle through. The flesh will be tough, like a banana peel. Press the needle through both sides of the wound. Don’t pull too tight, the skin should touch, but not pucker, and then knot the floss three times. But make sure...”

  His head slumped against the seat. Shit. At least I wouldn’t have to hear him scream.

  My fingers trembled as I followed his instructions. I sprayed the rust-colored liquid over my hands and the wound. Piercing the skin and tying the knots was trickier than I expected.

  I focused on his chest, checking to see if he was still breathing. Was his heart beating? I couldn’t lose him. With every subtle movement he made, anxiety built within me, causing sweat to pepper my skin. What if he regained consciousness? Several times his body threatened to wake him, but he promptly succumbed again.

  The pharmacist from the store, an older man who looked more like Grizzly Adams than someone with a dispensing license, rounded the car. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just about done, and we’ll be out of your way.”

  He crossed his arms. “Shit. That looks bad.”

  He grabbed Sebastian’s wrist to feel for a pulse.

  “What did he do?”

  “Ahhhh...” I finished the last knot, and realized that even though I normally avoided lying, prevarication was in our best interest. “He tripped and fell onto his hunting knife. The stubborn man refuses to go to a hospital.”

  “He could have internal injuries.”

  “He’s a doctor. He said that he’d know.”

  “Wow, he is stubborn.”

  I laid the gauze patch over the wound. “You aren’t kidding.”

  “I’ll be right back, let me get you something to help.” He disappeared again.

  Sebastian stirred. When he sat up, he groaned.

  I touched his cheek and stroked his chin with my thumb. “Hey, sleeping beauty. You missed all the action.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and then opened them slowly, focusing on my face. “What?”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Fuzzy.”

  The pharmacist rounded the corner. “Here I have these for...”

  Sebastian immediately grabbed the gun from the dashboard and held the pistol over my shoulder.

  I grabbed his arm. “Put the gun down. He’s the pharmacist from the store, he’s helping me.”

  Sebastian allowed me to lower his arm, and he placed the gun back on the dash with a sigh.

  I turned to smile at the man and noticed the bag in his hand. “Sorry about that. I think the pain has him a little jumpy.”

  He smiled, but his laugh was strained. “Hunting knife... Right... Well...at least he’s awake. Let me help you get him into the backseat, and then you can give him this goodie bag—some water, juice and enough Vicodin to get him through a few days.”

  Before I could think better of embracing him, I stood up and hugged the man.

  He patted my back and whispered in my ear. “You might want to consider driving past an ER while he’s too out of his mind to object.”

  I leaned back and smiled. “I like how you think...”

  “Bob. The name is Bob.”

  I withdrew from his embrace, sifted through my purse, and found my wallet.

  “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. The drugs came from my personal stash. Had a bad tooth last week and didn’t finish them all. The other stuff...don’t worry about it.”

  I smiled at him, remembering from a summer camp excursion how friendly the people in small mountain towns could be. Helping each other was a way of life. No fear of him being part of the Society. “Thank you so much.”

  Bob pointed to the rear door of the car. “Let’s get him in the back. You need to get on your way so he can get somewhere he can rest, and I need to get back to the counter, in case someone calls with an order.”

  * * *

  I drove through the mountains listening to various radio stations as the reception faded between towns. Sebastian drifted in and out of consciousness in the backseat.

  His rule was that I didn’t stop the car until he woke up.

  We entered a small town called Millerston, and I called Xavier.

  “Elaine. What’s wrong?”

  I wanted to say nothing, not worry him. But my feeling was undeniable. “Xavier, I need you.”

  He groaned sexy and seductive—a mix between a growl and hum. “I need you too, my queen.”

  “No. Not like that. I mean, I do, but...Xavier, I really need to talk with you in person. But somewhere no one will know you’re there.”

  He lowered his voice. “What is going on, Elaine?”

  “Is there a hotel or somewhere I can meet you?”

  “Where’s Sebastian?”

  “He’s here in the car with me.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

 
; “Not exactly.”

  “Elaine.”

  “Where, Xavier?”

  “I’ll text you an address. Be safe. I’ll meet you there. I’m leaving now.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Words

  Xavier opened the hotel door and immediately pulled me inside.

  “Oh my God. What happened to you? Where are you hurt?”

  His hands began pulling at my clothes.

  “Xavier stop. It’s not my blood...” I grabbed his hands in both of mine. “It’s his.” I pointed to Sebastian.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Sebastian started to laugh, but grabbed his side. “Why don’t you ask her? She has a little secret.”

  “Elaine, what’s going on?”

  “Where do you want me to begin? Let’s start with Sebastian’s stab wound.”

  “What?”

  “Could you take a look at the stitches? He claims the knife missed his internal organs but...”

  “He can’t possibly know that.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I shot Sebastian an incredulous look, but it meant little since his eyes were closed from the pain.

  “Let me see the wound.” Xavier walked to the side of the bed.

  Sebastian raised the T-shirt over his head, wincing as he stretched. The black color hid the blood, but the large slice was still noticeable.

  He took one look at the wound and gasped. “Who on Earth sutured this? This is horrid. That’s going to leave a terrible scar.”

  I felt terrible for not having better technique, but I didn’t have much choice.

  Sebastian stifled another laugh. “I thought she did pretty good with the thirty seconds of instructions I gave her in the parking lot before I passed out.”

  “Elaine, you did this?”

  Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, not too bad considering she’s never performed surgery before and didn’t exactly have the proper tools.”

  “True. But Sebastian, you could have nicked something, perforated your bowel even. Why didn’t you get checked out?”

  “She’ll tell you why. I’m going to get some sleep. We’ll watch for the signs, but several hours have passed. I’m not feeling cold, muggy or fevered. No palpitations, Pulse is strong. That druggist gave me some Vicodin. I’m going to make good use of it. Besides, rest will help me heal faster.”