Not that I wanted to see his eyes.
I hadn’t seen a look of murder in them since the time he’d gone after Trevor’s ex. When Wheeler brought Hope into the house and William saw the brave girl crying, he’d looked ready to skin someone alive. Wheeler had shifted to guard the property while we waited for Austin and Reno to arrive, and they were no doubt running every red light to get home as fast as they could.
A knock sounded at the front door, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. It must be the Relic.”
Their approaching footsteps rattled the floorboards, and when Edward swung the door open, he went straight toward the teenager without breaking stride.
Edward set his black bag on the floor and changed places with Katharine, holding the bloody rag to Hope’s temple. “Has she been unconscious this whole time?” he asked, his British accent more difficult to understand when he spoke quickly.
“No,” Katharine said. “I sedated her.”
He gently lifted the rag and examined her wounds, the cadence of his voice more controlled and calming. “Yes, I can see three puncture marks. One on the temple and two under her jaw. They’ll require a few stitches. Rest assured this isn’t serious. I’ll just need to patch her up before infection sets in. It’s a good thing it wasn’t close to her eye.”
Edward stood up and dragged a small chair beside her.
William stepped away from the window, turning his attention to the Relic. “Will she scar?”
The Relic rummaged through his bag before pulling out a cloth to drape over the chair and then lining up several instruments on it. “Show me a Shifter who has pulled through childhood unscathed, and I’ll show you my bum. I have medicine that will help reduce scarring, but I’m less concerned over her injuries as I am the cause of this wound. They said a rogue attacked her?”
I collapsed in a chair. “Yes. Mel, my niece, was with her. She said the wolf came right up to them and attacked without provocation.”
“Curious,” he muttered.
William’s jaw set. “What do you mean?”
Edward glanced over his shoulder. “Only that this is the fourth case I’ve seen in the past two weeks.”
“Children?” I asked in disbelief.
“The first one was not so fortunate. She was a small child who couldn’t defend herself against two wolves. Before I was able to get there, the Packmaster had already sent out his second-in-command to hunt the wolves and kill them. At first I thought it was a strange sickness going around—something new and unique afflicting Shifters. But the Packmaster refused an autopsy or further investigation. He was content with an eye for an eye. The other two children sustained minor injuries, but their stories were similar. I’m not one to pry, but I overheard talk about a pack war. Is that true?”
Katharine gripped the back of the couch, watching him treat the wounds. “I suppose there’s no sense in hiding the truth from a Relic since you understand the importance of secrecy. We know nothing about when or how, but we’re quite certain it’s coming.”
Edward prepped a needle for the local anesthesia. “Either their animals are growing restless for blood, or they’re creating discord by random acts of violence.”
I rubbed my eyes, my head pounding as the adrenaline began to taper off.
“Might I recommend you share this knowledge with the Breed community?” he suggested. “There are those who would be willing to fight alongside you. Yes, many would stand idly by and do nothing, but rest assured times have changed. Even if the number is small, it’s more than you have now.”
William looked upon Edward with doubt. “And would you be willing to die for a Shifter?”
Edward met his gaze. “Yes, as it so happens, I would. But I wouldn’t be of much assistance as a corpse, now would I? My skills are put to better use treating the wounded than carrying a gun. Consider me a different sort of ally.”
Trevor burst into the room. “Hold on to your panties, because a shitstorm is about to rain down.”
I noticed his dry leather oxfords, flecks of dirt clinging to the edges. “Is it raining?”
“It’s gonna be pouring in about ten seconds.”
That’s when it registered. The roar outside wasn’t thunder—it was Lorenzo’s Ferrari.
Trevor crossed the room and stood at the end of the sofa, looking down at the injured girl.
At fourteen, Hope dressed so differently than Melody. Modest attire, earth tones, and a subtle influence of Native American. It was chilly outside, and today she had on a pair of tan fur-lined boots with buckles around the ankles. They seemed so large on her thin legs, which were covered with dark leggings and an oversized brown sweater.
Edward moved her long hair aside, running a white cotton ball soaked with peroxide across her face. “Let me numb her skin before she comes around. If I can manage to stitch her up before she even wakes—”