“Ness, hold it down!” Lucas jerked his head toward my tank top still wedged against the gushing wound.
I scrambled to my feet and gripped the sodden fabric.
Lucas hooked his arms around Liam’s rump, and on Matt’s signal, they hoisted their friend onto the blanket. Then they crimped its edges with white-knuckled fingers and heaved. I straightened in time with them, keeping a steady pressure on Liam’s flank.
I only let go when Matt shouted at me to open the passenger door. He placed his end of the body inside, then loped around the car and crawled onto the backseat. Breathing jaggedly, he tugged the blanket until Liam was entirely sprawled on the backseat, then flung the door shut.
I got in next to Liam. Laid his head on my cold, goose-fleshed thighs. And then I resumed pressing my tank against his injury. Car doors slammed, and then tires screeched and headlights burned a white path down the road.
As we zipped through the darkness, I heard snippets of Lucas’s and Matt’s conversation-he was trying to shoot her…out cold, but not dead…silver bullet, I think…Greg is on his way
“That’s not the way to the hospital,” I said when Matt hung a left instead of a right.
He twisted around long enough to glare at me.
“We’re not going to the hospital. We’re not going to a vet either.” There was no humor in his voice. Just anger.
He was angry with me. I wondered if it had solely to do with tonight, or if other factors-like the engagement party I’d attended on the arm of the enemy pack Alpha-contributed to his antagonism.
I stared down at Liam, my fingers moving gently through the long, silky black strands on his neck. His fur began shortening, retreating inside his pores. Next, his snout receded, and his ears migrated back to the sides of his face.
“Guys, he’s shifting.” The dark shape draped over my legs became a human face with sallow skin and a pale, gaping mouth.
“Fuck,” Lucas said.
I guessed it wasn’t a good thing. But why, I had no-
My hand stilled on Liam’s brow.
My father had shifted back when the silver had leaked into his heart, draining his werewolf magic and then his life.
My vision tilted and blurred, and the fingers gripping my balled, sodden top curled so hard around the fabric that rivulets of blood ran over Liam’s burnished thigh.
Liam was dying.
It had started to rain during the drive over to Liam’s house. Soft drops pelted the windshield and then the navy cover wrapped around Liam.
My bare stomach was covered in goose bumps that had little to do with the weather and everything to do with the direness of Liam’s predicament, and the memories of another time when another silver bullet had pierced the flesh of another wolf. I crossed my arms in front of me, to cover myself and to ward off the chill in my bones.
Seconds after we arrived, a middle-aged man wearing rubber Crocs and navy scrubs knocked on the door. “Where’s Liam?”
I assumed this was Greg, the doctor Matt had mentioned in the car. The man was neither part of our pack, nor did he smell like a wolf. From the way he dressed, I took it he was a real doctor. He blustered in, squeezing a black nylon duffel in one hand. I trailed him inside Liam’s dusky bedroom, keeping my eyes averted from the cadaverous-looking body nestled underneath a brown fleece cover.
Even though my gaze was fixed to the painting of an oversized peacock feather that hung over the stone fireplace, cocooned in a Plexiglas box, my attention was on the hushed conversation whirring around Liam.
“You’re going to have to help me, Matt,” Greg was saying. “Hold him down.”
My teeth ground hard as I heard metal clink-probably surgical tools.
“Ready?” Greg asked.
Matt must’ve nodded because the next thing I knew, a hoarse cry shredded the room. Liam was definitely not dead. As suddenly as it arose, the cry abated, and the room oozed with silence.
Abysmal silence.
“I see it,” Greg said. “Hold him down again.”
I squeezed my eyes tight.
This time, the cry was muted, as though Liam’s ability to form sounds had gotten bogged down in a web of sticky breaths.
Metal pinged against metal. Footsteps. The gush of water. Was it over? Was Greg washing his hands? Had he retrieved the bullet?
I peeked toward Liam, who was out cold. His face was pale and shiny with sweat, like melted candle wax. A matching sheen of perspiration gleamed on Matt’s large, furrowed forehead. He was talking softly, steadily, using gentle words and shared memories to bring his friend back to life.
Lucas stood vigil on Liam’s other side, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans surely borrowed from Liam. When his murky gaze met mine, I jolted my eyes toward my bare, bloodied midriff.
I was an intruder… I had no right to be here.
So I left.
The living room was bright. Too bright. I rubbed my eyes, wishing I could rub the horror of the night out. Waiting for news, I perched on the edge of the couch. I tried to pray like Evelyn did when I accompanied her to mass, but then remembered how many prayers I’d sent upward for my mother and how deafening the answering silence had been.
The tangle of male voices in the bedroom had me perking up. The conversation was still hushed, but I caught a lilt to the tone. Greg must’ve gotten the bullet out… Or maybe it wasn’t made of silver.
That would be good.
A moment later, Matt emerged from the bedroom, shoulders hunched but forehead smoother.
“Is he- Did-” Nerves tore the volume from my voice
“Greg got the bullet out. It was whole.”
I raked my clammy palms over my thighs and exhaled a deep sigh.
Matt tossed a piece of fabric at me-a plaid shirt. Since he was still wearing his, I assumed it was one of Liam’s. I slipped it on, and the scent of Liam enveloped me
“Thank you.” I didn’t dare meet Matt’s gaze. Just the heavy, reproachful feel of it was painful. “Was it made of silver?”
“Yes.”
I shuddered, then rubbed the right side of my skull that tingled from a lump the size of an egg.
The couch cushion dimpled as Matt took a seat next to me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just shook up.”
Matt’s lips were pinched. “We told you to stay away from Aidan Michaels, but you didn’t listen.” He shook his head. “I don’t get you, Ness. I thought I did. I thought I had you all figured out. I thought you were some shy, sweet girl trying to act all tough to fit into the pack, but I don’t think you’re shy. And I don’t think you’re trying to fit into the pack.”