"Fresh frozen plasma," Rafferty answered absently. "Now shut up and let me work, would you?" He might not have finished med school, but he had the attitude and sharp-edged tongue down pat. There was a hush after that. Deep, velvety, and peaceful, enough that I kept trying to drift away. I was attempting to set foot on that sinuous path that led nowhere yet everywhere all at once, but every time I did, there was an insistent force pulling me back. Hand over hand, the grip continued to reel me in with ruthless obstinacy.
Ruthless, obstinate, and with a devotion to healing that left Hippocrates himself in the dust—it was a short but accurate description of Rafferty. That and he did not suffer fools gladly. In fact, he did not suffer fools at all. Niko and I had crossed his path two years ago. I'd smelled the talent on him instantly. He in turn had known there was something different about me, although I'd never given him the chance to touch me and find out for sure. The laying on of hands would've resulted in his knowing something we didn't want him to know. Chances were it was something he didn't particularly want to know either. And if seeing Cal for what he truly was would've been a shock, seeing what I was now was bound to knock his socks off.
"How is he?"
Rafferty's sharp, frustrated exhalation followed on the heels of Niko's question. "Two phrases come to mind. 'Crashing and burning' and 'train wreck.' Take your pick." The heat of his palm intensified. "The son of a bitch sliced him up good. Who the hell did it?"
There was silence, and then Nik's unflinching answer. "I did."
"Ah." The healer was either absorbing the information or letting it flow over him, water off a duck's back. "I'm guessing that's why you skipped the hospital."
"No." There was the sound of skin on skin, a hand being rubbed wearily over a face. "That's not the reason. Be careful in there, Rafferty. Cal isn't precisely alone."
"Fine time to tell me," came the annoyed grunt. "I'm already in. I'm committed now."
Which would be exactly what Niko had planned all along. The reptilian part of me admired the insidious nature of the move and roundly despised the softer emotion behind it. The rest of me simply recognized it as Niko, through and through, and something I would've done in a heartbeat myself. At one time. Needless to say, if I survived, those days were long gone.
"Then the sooner you heal him, the sooner you can get out," Nik pointed out brusquely.
I didn't catch Rafferty's reply, but it was guaranteed to be scathing. It dawned on me slowly that I was healing. It was a snail-like process due to the severity of the wound, but it was happening. The sounds around me were growing sharper and even though I was still fading in and out, I was becoming more aware. Feeling stronger. In fact I felt strong enough to lever up my eyelids for a bleary glance around me. Light russet eyes took me in. "Damn, Cal," Rafferty said grimly. There was a tightening around the corners of his wide mouth, a spasm of distaste at what he was sensing as he healed me. "You look as creepy as you feel."
Thank you, Marcus Welby. Beside him Niko stood, his short hair still startling to my eyes. I saw the sick despair that lay under the tranquil surface of his smooth face, the sluggish movement of black water under ice. And I saw it fade slightly as he watched me open my eyes. His face loosened a slight amount and for one second he closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. Then he pulled in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders to a ramrod stiffness, and snapped open his eyes. "Put him to sleep," he ordered without emotion.
Rafferty slid him a disbelieving look. "What? I'm still healing him. He's a long way from out of the woods. Sleep is the least of my concerns here."
"Put him to sleep, Rafferty. Do it now," Niko repeated harshly.
Goodfellow stepped up to add his two cents. Nosy bastard. "You might have trouble healing after Darkling here has bitten off your hand at the wrist. At the moment it's best to let sleeping monsters lie."
I could see that Rafferty wasn't used to being told what to do, and it was clear he didn't care for it one bit. But he ignored his bruised ego for the moment and laid his other hand on my forehead. His lips shaped one word. "Sleep." It wasn't audible to my ears, but I heard it ring in a series of echoes through my mind. Sleep. Over and over again until it was a never-ending litany. Sleep. Sleep.
And I did.
Chapter Twenty-two