Kat frowned and looked like she wanted to say something, but praise all the higher beings in the universe, she remained quiet. The relief was short-lived, because when I glanced down at her, she was shaking so badly her teeth had to be rattling. It was then I realized she was soaked from the rain and shock was probably kicking in.
Pulling off my shirt, I found myself kneeling beside her again. My shirt wasn’t the best thing, but it was better than nothing. I carefully pulled it on over her head, keeping the material away from her bruised cheek. I got her limp arms through the holes, and the noodle quality to those arms worried me a little. I glanced up quickly. Her eyes were closed, thick lashes fanning the tops of her cheeks.
“Kat?”
Too late.
She toppled over to the right, and I caught her before she face-planted onto the cement. Her head lolled to the side and her hair, half up and half down, fell across her one unmarred cheek. Holding her against my chest with one arm, I brushed the hair back from her face. My fingers lingered along her jaw just below her ear. The sound of sirens grew closer, but I concentrated on each breath she took, her chest rising and falling steadily.
Kat was out cold.
“Hell,” I muttered, staring down at her as I shifted her so the back of her head was cradled in the crook of my arm.
This was becoming a disturbing trend.
Chapter 9
There were few places in this world that I hated as much as hospitals. Luxen didn’t get sick—no colds or cancers, no heart disease or strokes. Bumps and bruises could be healed with a touch of a hand. So I avoided these places at all costs.
Tonight it was unavoidable.
I stayed as out of the way as inhumanly possible, leaning against the wall while Kat’s mother flipped her shit. The pea-green curtain fluttered every time someone roamed into the room and back out. The deputies had come and gone, talking to both of us. Robbery gone wrong. I was in the right place at the right time. The police would do everything to try to locate the offender, but good luck there, because there was nothing left of the shithead, but what could I say? I just smiled and nodded and waited for the moment I could get the hell out of here. Actually, I could’ve already left, but it didn’t feel right to do so.
I needed time to think.
My gaze drifted over to the narrow bed. Kat looked tired when my eyes found her. She was looking out the window, her pale face drawn and weary. The splash of red on her cheek wasn’t easy to look at. Neither was her swollen eye. It could’ve been worse. My touch had sped up the healing process there and most likely repaired more serious injuries related to the imprint on her throat? remarkably similar to fingers. It was faint, but it was hard to look at.
Her arm was in a cast. Torn tendon or something. If she hadn’t pulled her arm away, I could’ve fixed that, too. I mean, why not at this point? The trace was still around her, stronger than before, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be fading anytime soon.
Why in the hell hadn’t they given her something for the pain yet?
Kat appeared incredibly small in that bed. Alone with me for a few seconds, she glanced over, and I raised a brow. Her gaze immediately flicked away.
Her mom had disappeared in search of a doctor and returned with a middle-age man, graying at the temples, who was vaguely familiar. The doc—Dr. Michaels—started reading off her chart, telling us things we already knew. He looked in my direction, and again, I was struck with this odd sense that I knew him from somewhere.
Probably around town. It was that small.
Dr. Michaels left after handing over some pain meds, and it was about damn time someone gave her something. Her mother hovered by her bed, and my jaw flexed when I saw the wetness gather in Kat’s eyes. The girl… Yeah, she was tough stuff. She’d been holding it together this whole time. I started to close my eyes when I sensed my sister’s presence. I’d called her on the way in, and no amount of reasoning had convinced her to stay at the house.
Dee rushed right past me. I chuckled. Glad to see that she was worried about me, because you know, I didn’t just fight an Arum or something. “Oh no, Katy, are you okay?”
Kat lifted the injured arm, and damn if she didn’t offer a weak smile. “Yes. Just a little banged up.”
Dee stared at Kat and then whipped around to me. “I can’t believe this happened. How could this have happened? I thought you—”
“Dee,” I warned.
She straightened, cheeks flushing as she received the silent message. Exhaling raggedly, she turned back to Kat, approaching her bed slowly. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Kat replied.
My sister sat down, perched on the edge of the bed, distraught and seconds from getting up and kicking me, I’m sure, because she thought this was my fault.
It was.