Chapter 3 #2
“Didn’t hit my head,” he interrupted, sliding gracefully off the examination table. “Just need these cleaned up so I can get going. I was told you were good, you dedicate your time to your patients.”
Summer dipped her head at the compliment, but before she could respond, her phone rang. Not a text this time, but an actual call from a number she didn’t recognize. She glanced at Mr. Guidry, who bounced on his toes by the curtain, ready to bolt.
“Excuse me one moment,” she said, stepping back from the bed. “Dr. Vale.”
“Doctor.” The voice was male, urgent, with an accent she couldn’t place. “We need your help. Medical emergency in the bayou. A child’s badly hurt, I was told to ask for you specifically.”
Summer frowned. I was told… she murmured. Few people outside the pack knew about her enhanced healing capabilities; fewer still had her direct number.
“I’m sorry, but if this is a pack matter, you should call Lena Broussard. She’s our healer, and she’s much closer to?—”
“No.” The word was sharp, final. “It has to be you. Your special healing abilities are needed. The injured pup is at the old hunting cabin near Cypress Point. Please hurry; she’s losing a lot of blood.”
Summer’s healing instinct flared. What she’d always thought of as a medical impulse she’d discovered in the last few months was as much to do with her Le Voile magic. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“A friend. Someone who knows what you can do. Please, Doctor, there isn’t much time.”
In the background, she heard what might have been moaning, or just the wind through the trees. But there was also the unmistakable sound of labored breathing, the sound indicated a serious trauma.
“I’m at the hospital right now. If someone is seriously injured, they need to come here where I have proper equipment?—”
“Can’t move them. Too dangerous. Please, doc, you’re the only one who can help.”
The line went dead, leaving Summer staring at her phone with growing dread.
Without urgent care, the child would bleed out and die in moments.
Even if she left now and raced to the cabin, the child’s chances of survival were slim.
She hugged herself, one hand finding the scar from Rowan’s claiming bite, warm under her scrubs.
The pull to leave and attend this unknown child was strong.
She had the power to save. She did not have the power to choose who she saved and who she let die.
Summer turned her attention back to bed two. Mr. Guidry was gone. No sign of her patient except for some bloodstained gauze on the examination table and a lingering scent reminding her of death and decay.
“Excuse me,” she called to a passing nurse. “The patient in bed two—where did he go?”
“What patient, honey? That bed’s been empty since I came on shift.”
Summer stared at the bloodstained gauze, her supernatural senses picking up traces of a strange scent of his supernatural corruption. Whatever Mr. Guidry was, he wasn’t entirely human. And now someone was calling her to a remote location, claiming to know about her abilities.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Rowan:
What’s up? Can feel your distress through the bond. What’s happening?
She quickly typed back:
A strange patient just disappeared. And someone just called about a medical emergency in the bayou. Knows about my healing abilities. I didn’t recognize their voice.
The response was immediate:
Don’t go alone. Wait for me. On way.
But even as she read his message, Summer relived the breathing she’d heard in the background; the victim sounded desperate.
What if someone was truly dying while she stood here second-guessing her instincts?
Her palms flared; this time, when she looked down, the silver flames were clearly visible.
Her healing flames. Healing was her job and her calling.
With a shake of her head, she was already running; she had no choice.
Another text from Rowan:
Twenty minutes. Whatever happens, don’t go alone.
Summer stumbled while she read and ran, but she was at her locker.
She grabbed her medical kit, her mind racing through the possibilities.
This could be a trap—probably was a trap, given the timing and the mysterious patient who’d just vanished.
But what if it wasn’t? What if someone was genuinely hurt, and she was their only hope?
“Lisa,” she called to the head nurse, who was currently arguing with a surgeon about OR availability, “I have to step out for a medical emergency. Personal matter.”
Lisa looked up from her heated discussion, taking in Summer’s medical kit and worried expression. “You just got here, and we’re swamped?—”
“I know. I’ll be back as soon as I can. It’s… family.” The lie tasted bitter, but she couldn’t explain the supernatural complexities without sounding insane.
“How long?” Lisa’s tone suggested she wasn’t happy about losing a doctor during the night shift rush.
“Two hours, maybe three. I’ll call if it’s longer.”
Lisa glared at her, then at the full waiting room. Summer’s knees turned to Jello. She twisted toward the exit and then back to Lisa.
Lisa shrugged.
Summer flew out of ER. As she headed for the parking garage, her phone rang again. Same unknown number.
“Dr. Vale? Are you coming? The bleeding is getting worse, and I don’t think we can stop it without your help.”
In the background, the labored breathing was more pronounced, punctuated by what sounded like genuine sounds of distress. But her supernatural senses recoiled; even through the phone connection, she sensed a trap.
“I’m on my way,” she said. “But I want to know who this is and how you got my number.”
“We need your help. Please hurry.”
The line went dead again, leaving Summer alone in the dark parking garage, resounding with the echo of her footsteps.
She climbed into her car and immediately called Rowan, knowing he was probably already en route but needing to hear his voice.
“Don’t do this,” he said without preamble, his Alpha-in-waiting tone bleeding through the connection. “Wait for backup. This has trap written all over it.”
“Someone might be dying, Rowan. I took an oath?—”
“And I took a vow to protect my mate.” His voice was rough with fear. “Summer, please. Something about this whole situation feels wrong. The timing, the mysterious patient, the caller knowing about your abilities—it’s too coordinated to be a coincidence.”
Summer started her engine, torn between medical duty and supernatural caution. “What if you’re wrong? What if someone really needs help and I let them die because I was too paranoid to respond?”
“Then we’ll deal with the guilt together. But if this is a trap and you walk into it alone…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but she felt his terror through their bond. “Give me fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and I’ll be there with backup.”
Summer sat in the warm car. She switched on the air con. Sitting back in the driver’s seat, tears cascaded down her cheeks. She sat up “I’m going to drive toward Cypress Point,” she said finally. “Slowly. If you can meet me before I get there…”
“I am on my way. Do not—I repeat, do not—go to the cabin alone.”
Summer ended the call and pulled out of the parking garage, her hands steady on the wheel despite the fear building in her chest. As she drove through the nearly empty streets of New Orleans, heading toward the dark waters of the bayou, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the calm before the storm was officially over.
In the distance, storm clouds gathered over the swamp, and Summer drove over the Crescent City Connection bridge, looking at the steel lattice of the twin cantilever bridges, the girders on either side boxing her in.
Below the Mississippi River flowed slowly and relentlessly down to the sea.
She pressed harder on the accelerator, racing against time.