I paused, squinting my eyes at him. The spot we had ended up in between two huge black Hummers was in shadows, but there was no mistaking the pair of granite gray eyes scowling back at me.
“Vali?” My voice came out in a startled squeak. “What the hell? I thought you went back to the party. What do you mean you took a bullet for me?” I was trying to keep my voice down, but the tension was making it difficult.
“Call me crazy, but I knew you were in trouble again,” he muttered. “And I meant exactly what I just said. There was a man about to shoot you when you weren't looking.” His face held a tight, pinched expression and was quickly draining of color.
Kneeling, I glanced around to make sure we were sufficiently blocked from view. Trying to be as gentle as I could under the circumstances, I yanked his suit jacket off, also pulling my silly lace mask off to give me better visibility.
“Shit.” I breathed, seeing the huge amount of red staining my hands. Carefully, I rolled him over so I could see his back and the entry wound, and sucked in a shocked gasp.
How was he still conscious?
“Vali…” I started, then lost the words. It looked like the bullet had caught him just below his shoulder blade and most likely pierced his lung. Right on cue, his breathing gave a wet, rattling noise and the blood on his back bubbled.
A sharp burst of gunfire started up again on the other side of the garage, and I was reassured to hear Jonathan still putting up a fight. The soft scuff of a shoe on polished concrete alerted me to someone sneaking up, just in enough time to whirl around and face them, gun at the ready.
“Oh dear, what has happened here?” Mr. Grey tsked with heavy sarcasm. He was pointing a small, silver handgun at me while I held my semi-automatic trained on him.
“You stupid old fuck,” I sneered at him. “You should have known I would rather go down in a storm of blood and bullets than ever be at your mercy again.”
His grin slipped just a little as he peered at my face, for the first time getting a close look at my eyes and hopefully reading the hatred and determination there. I wanted him dead, and I no longer carried the same respect for life that had kept him alive this long. After all I had seen in the past few months, all I had done and all I had learned, my prior reluctance to end a life was in the trash. I hoped he saw all of that in my expression.
He cleared his throat as though nervous, and the barrel of his gun quivered the tiniest bit. “Well, it seems we are at an impasse. My men have your companion busy, and I have a gun pointed at you.”
“As I do you,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but you have a choice to make. You can shoot me and I can shoot you, blah blah all of that. Or you can let me leave and stand a chance of helping your friend there.” As if on cue, a wet rattling groan came from Vali's half-dead body on the ground behind me.
Shit.
I wanted Mr. Grey dead. I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything. But I couldn't just let Vali die. He had helped me, and despite my casual disregard for life in circumstances such as this, when guns were pointed at my head, I couldn't in good conscience let Vali die just to further my own vendetta.
“Leave,” I growled at Mr. Grey through clenched teeth. “But watch your back, old man. I'm coming for you.”
“As I am for you, Foxy.” He winked, then took off towards his waiting car, keeping his pistol trained on me until he was safely inside.
The screeching tires of his car peeling out of the garage filled my ears as I dropped my gun and collapsed to my knees beside Vali's motionless form.
“Shit,” Jonathan swore, jogging over to us and seeing the mess that was the Romanian's back.
“Jonathan, get help,” I begged, fluttering my hands over the wound, unsure what to do. Jonathan carefully grabbed my hand, placing it over a folded wad of Vali's ruined suit jacket and pressing it over the gaping wound.
“Press down,” he murmured. “It will slow the blood flow, but Kit…”
“Stop it; I don't want to hear it,” I snapped. “Just get help. He can't die because of me.” I heard Jonathan heave a sigh and stand up, but I wasn't paying him any more attention as my vision clouded over with tears.
“Please don't die,” I whispered, hunching over til my lips were against Vali's ear. “I don't know why I feel like this around you, but I just know you can't die. Please, please, please, just hang on. We are getting help.”
Tears ran rivers down my face, dripping onto his skin, but he didn't move a muscle.
15
Within minutes, the wad of fabric I was holding pressed to Vali's wound had soaked right through and was slipping under my hand's pressure. With a scream of frustration, I threw it aside and tore the sodden shirt fabric away from the bullet hole. Hopefully the pressure from my hand alone would be enough to keep him alive until help arrived. It had to be better than the soaked fabric slipping and bumping the injury every few seconds.
“Don't die, don't die, don't die,” I chanted in a panicked whisper to keep myself from completely dissolving. My breath was already coming in short, sharp gasps, and the tears were flowing so fast I could barely see. The only reassurance I had that he was still alive was the wet, gasping sound of his breathing and the slight suction against my hand where air kept trying to pull through the wound.
Fuck! What use was this supposed magic if I couldn't save someone's life?
Despite Dupree's claims that I should be able to heal others just the same way I heal myself, I had yet to work out how. Or even if I could. In the time since her revelation, I had stubbornly refused to allow the boys to deliberately hurt themselves in order for me to practice. It was madness. What if she was lying? Or just plain wrong? I hadn’t been willing to risk that.
Come on you stupid, good for nothing magic. If you actually do work on other people, now would be the perfect fucking time!
I stared hard at the seeping blood beneath my hand, straining, pushing with every mental facet I possessed, trying to make the healing work. Nothing happened.
Why wasn't Jonathan back with help yet?
Collapsing beside Vali's huge body, I made sure to keep the pressure on his wound while I lay my face on the floor beside his.
“I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “Everyone around me keeps ending up hurt. I'm like Midas, but instead of turning things to gold, everything I touch turns to shit.” His lashes fluttered slightly, giving me a small spike of hope.
“Hey, I saw that. Can you hear me?” His deathly pale face didn't show any sign of consciousness, but I was positive his lashes had moved before. “Don't you ignore me you… you… dickhead.” I was upset; it was the best I could come up with. “If you die on me right now, Dragomir, I am going to find some spell, or something, and bring you back just to kill you myself!”