by AE Jones
“We’re square, Doyle. Thanks for the info.”
He stared at me for a moment, as if struggling to decide what to do next. “You need to be careful, McKinley. This information came to me too easily. I don’t know if they assumed I would give it to you or not, but you need to watch your step. Take my advice and back off. I’m going on an extended holiday myself.”
He scurried deeper into the alley, and then out of sight. I was sure he had a rabbit hole to slink into somewhere.
Dalton and I walked back the way we came. Misha waited at the end of the alley as we approached.
After a few steps, tires squealed behind us. Fully expecting it to be Jean Luc, I was surprised when Misha screamed, “Run!”
I looked back, wasting precious seconds, as a blue pickup truck barreled toward us. My stomach bottomed out. Dalton reacted first, grabbing my hand and dragging me away at full speed. We were still midway down the alley with nowhere to go. Misha ran toward us. What the hell was he doing? Before I could scream for him to turn around, Dalton shoved me hard into an alcove, slamming me against the bricks. He kept running. After a few seconds, the truck sped past me.
There was no way Dalton could outrun it.
Chapter 15
Tires squealed and I flinched, expecting to hear a thud when the truck smashed into Dalton, but there was nothing. Racing from the alcove, I tripped, goggling at the scene in front of me.
Dalton dangled in midair like a marionette. What?! Further down the alley, Misha stood with his arm raised like a puppet master. Somehow, he was holding Dalton up in the air using telekinesis.
Then the truck changed trajectory and barreled toward Misha. I screamed a warning just as the driver pointed a gun out his window. Misha made a careless, swatting motion with his other hand and the truck lurched sideways, missing him. Unfortunately, the man still managed to get off a shot before the truck careened around the corner and out of the alley.
I stumbled toward Dalton while Misha slowly lowered him to the ground. When Dalton’s feet touched the pavement, I reached for him, desperate to reassure myself he was real, that what had just happened wasn’t a nightmare. Only after my hand actually touched his face did the tightness in my chest ease a bit. He grabbed my shoulders and held me out in front of him, running his eyes over me quickly before yanking me hard against his chest.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he demanded.
“Yes,” I squeaked. “You?”
“Yes.” He let me go, and pulled out his gun, giving it a fast check before we joined Misha.
Smartass comments fired off in my head about Misha and his newly revealed superpowers, but my steps faltered when he hunched forward, hands on his knees.
“Mish?” I took off running, my heart thudding so hard in my throat I had trouble breathing. “Misha, what’s wrong?” He stood and blood ran down his arm. “Jesus, you’ve been shot!”
“I’ll be fine, little one. It’s just a scratch.”
Dalton examined Misha’s shoulder and then his back. “It’s more than a scratch. You took one in the shoulder, and I don’t see an exit wound.”
Misha pressed his hand against his shoulder, staunching the blood. “A bullet wound like this isn’t serious for a demon. Doc Miller will fix me up in no time.”
Tires squealed and we all tensed again.
Dalton pointed his gun down the alley, until we realized it was Jean Luc who barreled toward us. He pulled the van to a halt, barely putting it in park before he jumped out.
“What happened?”
“A truck just tried to mow us down and Misha saved our asses.” I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking.
Dalton spoke up. “You guys get out of here. We don’t need any more publicity. I’ll stay and run interference with the cops.”
I shook my head. “You can’t stay here alone. It’s not safe.”
“I’ll be fine. The guy is long gone.”
Before I was able to protest, sirens wailed in the distance. “Okay, we’ll take Misha to get sewed up, and then let’s meet to discuss our next moves.”
Misha and I climbed into the van and Jean Luc drove toward the storage facility. I pulled on a pair of gloves and opened our first aid kit, looking for something to keep Misha from bleeding all over the upholstery.
“Misha, quit squirming and let me take care of you.”
“I’ll be fine. It should have stopped bleeding by now. If Doc isn’t available to take the bullet out, it will heal on its own.”
I smiled at him. “We can’t have that. You’ll set off metal detectors at the airport. Jean Luc, did you get a hold of Doc?”
“Yes, fortunately she was home. She is on her way to the facility now, and will probably arrive before we do.”
I sighed. I wanted Doc now, not later, so she could tell me Mish was going to be all right. I pressed more gauze on his wound. Blood was still flowing freely, though, and it didn’t make sense. Usually Misha was an amazingly fast healer. But now he had even broken into a sweat.
“Misha, tell me how you’re doing.”
“Just a little tired. I’ll be fine.”
I caught Jean Luc’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He sped up.
“I think you should probably stay awake. Doc is going to want to give you grief about getting yourself shot.”
“Of course. I can’t disappoint Doc.” Misha tried to smile, but his lips didn’t appear to cooperate. “I don’t feel very good, Kyle.”
I blinked hard a few times, suppressing the tears. “We’ll be there soon. Hang in there for me.”
Misha nodded.
Jean Luc made a call on his cell and spoke in rapid-fire French.
The next few minutes were a blur. I pressed gauze against Misha’s shoulder and talked to keep him awake while Jean Luc raced to the facility like a bat out of hell. I almost sobbed with relief when we pulled through the back bay door and I saw Doc’s car parked inside. She ran toward us, pushing a gurney.
Jean Luc flashed out of the driver’s seat and had the van door open before I even registered what was happening. He picked Misha up and put him on the gurney, and I knew Misha was in as bad shape as I’d feared when he didn’t protest about Jean Luc carrying him.
We ran toward the morgue. I wanted to scream “no” when I saw where we were going, but Doc led us past the main area into a makeshift operating room.
Doc pulled the gauze away and cut off Misha’s shirt, examining the wound.
I gaped at it. The hole was swollen and red…and the bleeding had increased. “It looks infected. Should it look like that already?”
“What type of gun was it, Kyle?” Doc asked.
“Just a regular automatic, maybe a .45. I’m not sure. Why isn’t it healing?”
“I don’t know. The bullet may be toxic. We need to get it out. Both of you wash up, I’m going to need your help.”
Jean Luc flashed away. I stood for a second staring at Misha. He couldn’t die.
“Kyle, go!”
I ran out of the room to the sink in the morgue. Jean Luc was just finishing up. He nodded at me slightly and then left the room. I yanked off the bloody gloves with a loud snap and scrubbed my hands quickly before running back to help.
Doc had stripped Misha and covered him with a sheet. Jean Luc set up an instrument tray and then started an IV. Doc reached for a bottle of betadine and poured it over the wound. Misha moaned.
“Sorry, big guy. I’m going to get this bullet out of you as fast as I can.” She held out her hand to Jean Luc. “Forceps.” She used them to dig around in the wound.
“Shouldn’t we knock him out or something?” I blurted.
“No, I need him to stay awake.” She pulled the forceps out. “The bullet must be further down in his shoulder. Scalpel.”
Jean Luc handed her the blade and I swallowed hard as she cut open his shoulder. Misha gritted his teeth and I squeezed his other arm.
“Look at me, Mish,” I said. “You’re going to be fine. When we’re
done, you’ll have a really cool scar you can show off to the ladies.”
His blue eyes brimmed with pain and I smiled at him. He was going to be fine. He had to be. After a second, Doc gasped. She stumbled back a few steps and bumped into the tray, sending several instruments clattering to the floor.
Jean Luc steadied her before she hit the ground.
“Doc!” I stepped toward her, but she held up her hand.
“Stay back, Kyle.” She peeled off her gloves and Jean Luc rushed her to the sink.
I stayed with Misha, who was now turning gray. After a minute, Doc and Jean Luc came back to the table.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, keeping my voice as even as I could.
“The bullet broke open and has released some kind of poison that must be toxic to demons,” Doc said. “We need to get it out of there and then clean the area.”
“Are you okay?”
“I will be. I can’t work on him anymore, though.”
“Let me do it.” Jean Luc volunteered.
Doc shook her head. “I suspect this might affect you, too, Jean Luc. Kyle, you’ll have to do it.”
The room closed in on me and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the spinning. No way could I do this.
“Kyle. Did you hear me?”
I opened my eyes. Misha’s pale face took center stage. “Yes. Tell me what to do.”
“I need you to feel around for the bullet fragments in his shoulder. Using your fingers.”
Jean Luc helped me slip my hands into a pair of gloves. As I walked around to the other side, Misha’s eyes followed me the whole way. I took a deep breath and stuck my finger into his shoulder. Dear God, I actually had my hand inside someone else’s body. I felt around slowly, hoping to find evidence of the bullet. After a couple of seconds, I bumped a hard edge.
“I found a piece.”
Jean Luc handed me the forceps, and I gripped the cold metal for a second, steadying my breathing. Then I eased the forceps in and pulled out the bullet slowly. I held up the piece for Doc to see from across the room.
“It’s the bottom half. You need to find the top piece, too.”
Jean Luc had put a metal basin on the instrument tray next to me, and I dropped in the bullet, hearing a satisfying clink as it hit. I took a deep breath.
I spread Misha’s wound with my fingers again and could feel him tense, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a moan. Pulling my hand back, I watched his face. He nodded for me to continue. After digging around for a few more seconds, this time using the forceps, I scraped against another piece of the bullet.
“Got it!” I pulled it out.
I held up the second piece for Doc to see.
“That’s the other half,” she said. “I think we got it all, but just to make sure, do another sweep with your fingers.”
I stuck my fingers in and felt around. “I think we’re good.”
Doc stood next to me and smiled. “Next step. I need you to take the suction tube and remove as much of the blood from the wound as possible. There’s no way to be sure how much of it has been poisoned or infected.”
I did manage to keep it together while I put the suction tube in his shoulder, but flinched at the whirring sound. The blood spattered up through the clear tubing, spotting the sides. Closing my eyes for a second, I swallowed back a wave of nausea.
“You’re doing great, Kyle, just hang in there.”
I opened my eyes.
“Okay, that should be enough,” Doc said.
I pulled the tube out of Misha’s shoulder and waited for further instructions. Instead, she motioned to Jean Luc. “Hang the other bag of antibiotics on his IV. Misha, you need to change.”
Misha glanced at me and shook his head.
“What’s the problem?” I asked.
“Normally, Misha would be able to heal himself, even in his human form. But he’s too weak right now. He needs to change to his demon form so he can heal. I don’t want to sew him up. I need to make sure he actually can heal so I’ll know the poison is completely out of his system.”
“So…why doesn’t he?”
No one answered me. And as I peered from face to face, I knew. He didn’t want to change in front of me. And I saw red. The fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins from watching one of my best friends almost die hardened into hurt and anger, and it was ugly.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Misha! I just saved your freakin’ life, and I’m still not worthy to see your demon form? Fine! I’ll wait out in the hallway.”
I slammed through the doors, peeling off my gloves and chucking them in the biohazard bin. I rushed to the sink, and turned on the water, but as I reached for the soap, my hand trembled so hard I had to grip the sink to steady myself. After a minute, I was able to wash my hands, and was drying them when Jean Luc came up behind me.
“Kyle.”
I spun around. “Is he okay? Please tell me the wound is healing.”
“Yes, it is healing.”
I released the breath I’d been holding. “Thank God.”
“Kyle, I feel I should explain something to you.”
I held up my hands. “I know. I was a bitch in there. I’ll apologize to him later. I know I shouldn’t expect him to treat me like another supernatural. I guess, since we’ve worked together for years, it hurt when he shut me out.”
“You misunderstand Misha’s reluctance to show you his other side. It is not your worthiness which is in question. He is afraid you will think less of him when you see his demon self.”
My mouth fell open. “What?”
“He does not want your friendship to change. He is afraid you would not be able to relate to him in the same way afterward.”
My heart clenched. He was worried about what I would think of him? “What a lunkhead. I don’t care what he looks like, demon or not. He’ll always be my friend.”
Jean Luc smiled. “That is what I have told him, but I think it will come best from you.”
I hesitated. “He wants me to see him?”
“Yes, are you ready for it?”
I walked slowly toward the room as Jean Luc pushed open the door. Misha’s now jet-black eyes settled on mine. He had grown. His skin was mottled, now mainly red, with burnt-orange splotches over his chest and face. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the bed. His eyes were filled with uncertainty, and I smiled as I gazed at him, awed at how important this moment was to both of us. I laid a hand on his arm, surprised to discover his skin was soft.
I shook my head at him. “You stubborn Russian. If you think a little red skin and black eyes would ever change my feelings for you, then you’re an idiot. I think your demon half is sexy as hell. No wonder you have no trouble finding wives.”
He grinned at me and laughed, his beautiful belly laugh bouncing off the walls.
* * *
I had propped my head against the back of the couch in Doc’s office when the door opened and Dalton rushed in.
“Doc just told me what happened. Sorry I wasn’t here to help.”
I shrugged. “None of us realized how bad it was until it was almost too late.”
He sat down next to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Liar, liar. “I just needed a place to chill for a couple of minutes. How did it go with the cops?”
“Well, considering the fact I couldn’t give them any of the relevant data, it was pretty much a nonevent. They are chalking it up to a drunk or drug addict driving through the alley on a tear.”
“Well, we need to figure out why they were after us.”
“I don’t think they were after us.”
“How can you say that?”
“The bullet you pulled out of Misha was made specifically to kill demons. I think they were after supernaturals, and we just got in the way. Do you think Doyle set us up?”
I sat for a moment, considering it. “No, I think he was a pawn in this whole thing. I don’t think he would have bothered with a warning if he’d set us up
.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the list Doyle had handed us in the alley. “We need to check out these names. Misha will be down for a few days, but I’m pretty sure Jean Luc can help with the search.” I unfolded the paper and it rattled in my shaky fingers. Damn it.
Dalton reached for my hands and held them in his strong grip. “Misha is going to be fine. Doc says you’re a natural.”
I shook my head and watched his thumbs rub across the back of my hands. I was not going to cry. Dalton let go of one of my hands and placed his fingers under my chin, tipping up my face so he could look me in the eye. He went blurry, then he smiled and hugged me to his chest while I bawled. I could be such a wuss sometimes. Plus alarm bells were going off in my head. I liked being in Dalton’s arms way too much. After a minute, I sighed and pulled back.
Dalton’s concerned look took my breath away.
“Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.” The electricity between us was like late summer lightning, so I needed to ground us in reality. “Don’t think this means you’re getting lucky. We only called a truce earlier. No peace treaty has been signed yet.”
“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” His words sounded sincere, but his eyes danced mischievously.
I didn’t trust him for a second.
Chapter 16
I blew out a shaky breath. I had been vegetating long enough in Doc’s office. Dalton had already gone down the hall to double-check some details with Doc. Running my hands through my hair, I stretched and stood slowly. I was definitely not getting enough sleep, but it would have to wait until after we figured out who shot Misha. And why.
On my way down the hall, I stopped to check on him. When I opened the door, the room was empty. My stomach sank. Controlling myself, I walked quickly to the main morgue area. Doc and Dalton stood near a lab table reading a report.
“Where’s Misha?”
Doc smiled. “He’s fine. I moved him to a room with an actual bed. He wasn’t comfortable on the metal table.”
“He’s going to be okay?”
“He should be fine in a couple of days. He just needs to take it easy.”
