“Good girl,” Tania breathes, her weight in my arms a little less than before.
“The purple vial, with the sage leaf, and the one I gave Atlas,” she murmurs to the yowling beast. Faster than I can blink, Elara has darted out into the rain through the cracked garage door.
“You really expect me to believe that cat can actually bring you the right potions?” I ask, kicking the kitchen door open and navigating over to the living room.
“No,” she responds. “But I trust her to know the right potions when I can't get them myself.”
“Fair enough,” I mutter, easing her down onto the couch cushions and flipping on the light. Now that we're in proper lighting, I can see her skin isn't just cut, it's inflamed, and the bottom half of her shirt is in tatters. Her abdomen is visibly bruised and covered in small lacerations.
Kneeling down beside her, I take her hand in both of mine, flinching at its clamminess. “I'm going to get you cleaned up and have a friend come help you. Potions are great, but you need some physical care as well. Just try to stay awake, okay?”
Her hooded eyelids fall slightly, and she forces them back up at my request. “Yeah, don't worry about me, just hide the map before anyone comes over.”
Nodding my assent, I rush out of the room, praying she can keep conscious.
“Please, Stone. Pick up,” I mutter into my phone as I shove towels aside to grab my first aid kit out of the cabinet.
“Hey Atlas, why didn't you text me back last night?” The phone isn't even done with its first ring when his familiar, lazy voice floats through, and I nearly drop the phone in surprise.
“Jason! Oh, thank God! Emergency! I need you over at my place now!”
“Why, what's going on? Who is it?” His tone automatically changes, and I can imagine him hurrying out the door, not a trace of leisure left.
“A friend of mine fell through a floor and was almost crushed by something. Bring whatever you can that can help a witch, and whatever you do, don't tell a soul where you're going or who's here. Please Jason? I'm really scared right now, she's so pale.”
There's a slight pause of movement on his side of the line, and I can only assume that I've shocked him into stillness momentarily.
“I'll be there soon,” he replies, as I drop onto my knees by the couch. “Put pressure on any wounds you can see and clean them up. I'll take care of it from there.”
“What about potions? Can she take any?”
A witch healing herself is one thing, a mage healing himself is another. But a mage healing a witch? I really don't know what to expect from that.
Though Tania is barely awake, she manages to shake her head weakly at my question. “I don't care what they say, I'm taking my -”
Holding up my hand, I shush her and rummage through the box for some gauze and tape.
“Something for strength is fine. Quite frankly, I've never worked on a witch, if she has her own remedies it's best to start there.”
I nudge my phone up higher onto my shoulder and eye her wounds critically. The dark splotches on her waist scare me, but her right leg has a gash that's steadily bleeding. I need to stop that before I can worry about anything else. These wounds didn't just come from her falling through an old floor, and I'm betting we'll need the detox potion to fix anything else.
Positioning her leg upwards with a faded pillow, I fashion a quick tourniquet above her knee so I can stop the blood flow.
“Hold still,” I mutter to her, still listening for words of encouragement from Jason's end of the line.
“Have her take whatever she has. I'm already in the car. See you soon.”
As the phone clicks off, I let it drop where it is, and apply as much pressure as I dare onto the cut. Tania breath catches in a horrible rasping noise, and I clench my jaw, trying to ignore it.
“Sorry, I'm sorry, I have to.”
As the blood starts to lessen, I wrap the wound tightly, and dry my hands on my jeans. Tania's eyes are hardly open, and she's bitten through her lip, but to my surprise, she opens her mouth to argue with me once more.
“I am taking my potions, whatever you say,” she insists, her stubbornness evident despite her condition.
As if Elara were waiting for those words, small paws appear silently next to me. Her deep black fur is standing straight up despite the rain that's covered her entire coat. Even more astounding is that in her mouth is a small, drawstring pouch, filled with potions.
“Well I'll be damned. Okay, give them here.” I reach my hand out to her, glad to welcome a sense of relief.
The tarry potion is the first one to fall out, and I use a spare medicine cup to measure out a tablespoon, the same as she gave me last night. Elara worms herself beneath the couch and goes around to the back to push the wastebasket forward against my knee.
“Okay, here we go,” I tell Tania, helping her into a straighter sitting position and guiding the cup to her lips.
It's horrible to see her get sick after everything else. Her hair seems like it's knotting itself and swings forward in soggy clumps while her shoulders shake, her body desperately ridding itself of whatever cursed contaminant she'd touched.
Elara lightly pounces up next to her and nestles herself into Tania's lap. The transformation that's washing over Tania's face is incredible. Before, I was certain she was going to go into shock before Jason even made it over, but now color is rushing back into her cheeks. Her eyes are no longer glazed, and her shoulders straighten into a semblance of her regular, snapping posture. The potion appears to do the last of its work, so I set the container back onto the ground and turn to the next little bottle.
“Okay Tania, how much of this one,” I ask, relieved to see the slight flush in her cheeks and recognition in her eyes. Her hands find their way to Elara and wrap around her familiar in appreciation.
“Two drops.”
Drops? Unscrewing the slight, black top, I find that there is in fact a dropper within it. Nodding my head, I fill up the dropper and motion to her to lean her head backward onto the cushions.
"Alright, be still for just a moment,” I breathe, carefully letting two drops fall onto her tongue. “Better?”
I can see even before she answers, it is. Her eyes are deep and reflective, bright with her usual determination.
“Yes, I think so. That one is specifically for healing, I usually use it when I've got a fever or something, but I'm about ninety percent positive it can handle internal bleeding.”
She pauses and rubs one of her bruises. “I hope,” she mutters. "Hey, the bleeding over here has slowed down, do you think we can get rid of the tourniquet? It actually really hurts.”
She gestures down to her legs and I seal both liquids before going back to wiping down the rest of her wounds. Thankfully, most of them are superficial, and I'm able to release the tourniquet confidently. Her foot twitches with the movement, and a flinch of pain causes her to reach out and grab ahold of my shoulder in response.
“I'm sorry,” she gasps, loosening her grip as she grits her teeth.
“Hey, it's okay,” I tell her gently, turning around and taking her hand easily. Her chilled hands fit perfectly in my palms, and the weight of them feels just right. At least, they do until she glances down at them and a pale blush travels over her cheeks.
“Right, uhm,” I clear my throat and stand. “I'm going to get you some water and a real blanket and take care of this." I shrug a shoulder towards the trash can and go to clean up.
Elara meows after me and settles in comfortably on Tania's lap. I've stopped all the bleeding I can see, but those splinters still need to come out of her hands.
My stomach turns at the thought of anyone knowing about her, and I still need to ask her why she was at the godforsaken place to begin with. Which reminds me, I should probably hide the map before he gets here. The less people involved, the better.
I finish disinfecting the trash can and stand at the sink for a long while, watching the blood run down my forearms
and mix into the sink with the cascading white of soapsuds. Small splinters join the reddish tint and the smell of mildew and copper slowly washes away beneath the scent of the soap.
A persistent knock at the front door alerts me to Jason's arrival. I run back out to the living room, shove the tablecloth into the closet behind the door, and let him in.
The rain is still coming down in sheets, and the broad man before me shakes his head like a dog before stepping in. His long hair is tied back behind his shoulders, and the jeans and leather jacket he's wearing tell me I've caught him on a day off. Nodding a greeting at me, he heads straight to Tania and opens up the leather doctor's bag in his hand.
“Hi, I'm Dr. Stone. Atlas here says you're a friend of his, so I hope you don't mind if I look you over?”
Tania shoots me an uncertain glance over his shoulder. Her red lipstick is smeared across her cheek, leaving her thin lips uncharacteristically colorless, besides the line of blood where she'd bitten through. Nodding at her, I head towards the kitchen to get her the promised water and a blanket from the hall closet.
His work voice takes over, brisk and reassuring, and I find it strange to hear in my house. I'm used to the laid-back drawl he uses among friends, the gentle laughing that means all is well. Everything about my home is vaguely disconnected, and there's a slight nagging voice in my head that's guiding me through normal movements.
The carpet beneath my feet is a cool grey, but have the fibers always looked that way? Has the linen closet always been so narrow? My feet carry me from one room to the next. A thick blue throw blanket seems like a good choice; warm enough to be comforting, dark enough to not be stained. The cool cup of water in my hand is heavier than it should be, and walking back into the living room, I just stop and stare at the tops of their heads.
Jason's form is usually recognizable at any restaurant or pool table. Here it just seems strange. Tania's hair is even more foreign, no lifting or changing, no bright gloss in its inky black hue. Nothing but a matted, dull mess. I can tell they're talking and even though I can hear her soft voice responding to him, her frame remains as still as a statue. Jason nods at my approach.
“You did a good job with her,” he tells me as I walk around the couch. “There's one cut here that will need a couple of stitches, and I'll need to keep an eye on her for a few days for infection or internal bleeding, but so far, so good.”
His eyes remained trained on Tania, examining bruises that appear to be lightening as the minutes go on. I guess those potions really do work.
I smile wryly back at him, not really amused but trying to exhibit the right response. “You know me and El; between the two of us someone was always getting hurt. My mom got tired of it eventually and told us to start cleaning each other up. I guess it became second nature.”
“I really wish all my friends had that instinct; it would save me a hell of a lot of time. Now let me take a look at you,” he says, rolling up his sleeves even more and nearly pushing me into the armchair.
For the first time, I become aware of the rusted color that covers my previously green shirt, and the ache that runs down my shoulders and backside. Tania closes her eyes behind Jason, laying her head back down and shifting against the blanket I'd dropped on top of her. Elara's glowing eyes are just visible beneath the folds in the fabric, watching me silently.
Scanning me for a second, Jason hands me a large antiseptic wipe and nods his head, “Wipe off and stay there. You can wait a minute.”
He turns his attention back to Tania and pulls out a numbing agent from his bag. “Let me get that one stitched up really quick and then you can rest a bit.”
His voice sounds far away, and I hate how bothered Tania is, with her eyes once again open and her hands shaking in anticipation of pain. Before I can stop myself, I disregard Jason's instructions and cross the room towards her. He's pushing the blanket up away from her leg and pulling out supplies, wisely ignoring Elara who is growling nervously at him.
“I hate needles,” Tania whispers at me, looking smaller than I'd seen her yet.
“I think everybody does.”
“No, I mean I really hate needles. As in I tend to pass out, I hate them.”
“Not that it's any consolation,” Jason's voice drawls from the other end of the couch, relaxing as the situation calms down. “But you are already laying on a couch, so if you do faint, at least you won't hit your head.”
“Oh yes, wonderful. That's exactly what I want to hear.” Her voice has a sharp edge to it and I'm happy to hear that hint of glass. It may not be the music I was hoping for, but any sort of energy is wonderful compared to a few minutes before.
“Hey, watch me, not him, and give me your hands. I got you out of that floor, and I'm going to get you through the stitches too. This is a good thing, remember? No more bleeding all over my couch?”
I tilt my head to meet her eyes, as I squat down beside her, trying my best to alleviate her distress. Slipping her cool hands into mine, she trains her eyes on mine and takes careful, measured breaths. I can tell she's doing her best to keep nausea at bay and her focus on me, instead of her leg that Jason is cleaning off and getting ready to numb.
“Right. Sorry. No bleeding. No looking at the thing, no passing out in your living room. Fair enough. Although you were the one who passed out last night.”
“Okay, but we don't have to make it a daily thing. I'd like to actually make it to dinner one of these days.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jason glance at me curiously before starting to stitch. Tania's fingers tighten around my palms and her eyes twitch in an effort to keep her gaze on me.
“Are you even trying to help me find my sister? Or are you planning on continuing to have chaos ensue until the new moon?”
Although her voice is shaking, the challenging words are like a balm after seeing her so weak. Raising my eyebrow at her, I put my hand up to her face, blocking her view of Jason.
“Hey now, I was at work remember? You were the one that caused the chaos today,” I respond, intentionally keeping my voice gentle and pushing energy through my hands to calm her. Actual spell work is out, but she'd mentioned on the drive over last night that energy itself was safe enough.
“I did not cause the chaos. It found me; trust me it wasn't my idea to end up in this predicament." Her eyes keep shifting over to my hand at her cheek, and I have to guide her face back to mine.
“Hey, I promised you were going to get through this, right? I didn't carry you all over the place today for nothing.”
“Alright you two,” Jason interjects, tying off his work and dropping his supplies into a sharps container to be sanitized later. “You can quit the flirting. All the needles are put away again. Miss, I'm just going to need you stay still for one more minute so I can cover it with a light bandage.”
I sputter in protest, stopping at the sight of Tania's gaping expression as she struggles to explain our situation.
“It's not like that,” I finally say, wondering why it takes so long to let the words drop from my tongue.
Tania eases away my hands, and I move away awkwardly, settling back into my chair. He finishes tending to her cuts and pulls out the rest of the splinters before giving her some pain meds and an antibiotic.
Watching him do this I can't help but question the rest of the contents in his case. “Do you just carry an entire pharmacy in there?”
His easy smile spreads across his face, and a low chuckle accompanies it. “Normally, no. We had a pharmacy rep come through today though. I had all the samples laying out since I was reviewing them. When you said there was an emergency, well I figured a few drugs might be needed.”
“Well thank goodness for that,” Tania sighs. “I think I can finally take a nap now.”
With that statement she really does close her eyes and settle back under the blanket with apparent ease. Jason raises his eyebrows and shrugs appreciably, “Huh, would you look at that. Fast acting. I'll have to start prescr
ibing that one more often.”
I scowl at him and try sitting up, thwarted by a pain in my arm, as I jar one of the pieces of wood that are still lodged in my arm. The action doesn't go unnoticed, and Jason pulls his case over to me, ready to get to work.
“You know, you may want to redefine emergency though. From the panic in your voice, I would have thought somebody was dying,” he comments, one eyebrow raised at me.
“The potions did a hell of a job before you got here. But I wasn't worried about the physical injuries I guess... just what they came from.”
It's dangerous for me to admit much more, but my head is getting light-headed just thinking about the terrible presence at the house. The entire drive over here I felt like I was fleeing a monster that could reach out and drag us back underneath those floorboards.
Lowering his voice, he takes advantage of our close proximity in order to question me. “So, are you going to tell me what's going on, and who exactly she is?”
After so many minutes of feeling like I was operating on autopilot, I drop back into my own body, acutely aware of an uncomfortable feeling crawling over me.
“You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.”
Jason scoffs at me and begins wrenching splinters out of my wrist, ignoring the sharp pain that elicits a loud hiss from my teeth. “Try me. You owe me that much. Whatever is going on seems to be pretty important judging by how you begged me not to tell anyone what I was doing.”
Groaning in defeat, I have to admit to myself that I could use a friend in all of this. Especially one I know has spoken up in favor of witches in the past.
“Her name is Tania. I met her yesterday at the music festival, and she told me she was looking for another witch some scrying spell had told her would be in town." I shrug tiredly.
“I told her I would help if she'd move on after she found them, and I ended up at her place last night talking.” His eyebrows couldn't get much higher, and I find myself emphasizing my actions almost as justifications for spending time with Tania.
“While I was over there a demonic animal showed up and I had to run it off, then today Thomas Ursa came in to get his mailbox fixed because something tore it up really bad.” I pause and clench my jaw to keep from crying out, one particular piece of wood is thicker than the rest and Jason is having trouble getting it out of my arm.
Shattered (Tempest Coven Novels) Page 10