Chapter 12 #2
I was about to remind him just what the man’s job actually was when my attention was drawn back to the bed.
Uly’s eyelids fluttered, and he took a wheezing breath, and I moved gently across the mattress to his side, opposite the doctor.
Uly blinked a few times then struggled to sit up.
“Don’t move,” the doctor scolded lightly, nudging him back onto the mattress.
“I need to get a look at your injuries.”
Dr. Banner pinched the hem of his shirt between his fingers and brought up a pair of scissors, cutting it straight up the middle.
“Hey! I liked that shirt,” Uly slurred, reaching to slap the doctor way.
I caught his hand in mine and held it tight. “I’ll buy you a new one,” I snapped, taking out my frayed nerves on him. Now was not the time to worry about clothes. Not when his blood was still leaking from his body.
I felt sick at the sight of him. There were four gouges down the side of his chest, where the demon had dug its human fingers into him with impossible strength, but the bleeding had thankfully slowed.
And judging by his pained breathing, he’d probably broken a few ribs too.
There were already bruises rising in angry purple blooms across his pale skin.
The doctor didn’t seem as concerned about the injuries as I thought he should. “A few stitches should be enough. Sin-eaters are more resilient than humans. Has he been eating enough?” he asked as he pulled a suture kit out of his bag.
I frowned, thinking back. “It’s been a few hours since we had dinner but—”
“No, I mean sins. Has he performed a purge recently?” He glanced at me, but when I couldn’t answer, he turned to Uly, who was still blinking blearily. “When did you last eat?”
“Five days?” He didn’t sound sure, but the doctor seemed satisfied with the answer.
“He’ll be okay.” He snapped on some gloves then went about cleaning the wound, then administered some lidocaine before he pulled the sides of the wounds together and began to sew.
Uly’s eyes drifted over to where Lagamal stood, overseeing the proceedings in his usual stern manner. “Who are you?” he mumbled.
“I’m Mal, a friend of Rue’s.” I couldn’t quite decipher what he was thinking as he looked from Uly to me, but I had a feeling he saw more than he let on.
“Friend,” Uly said with a scoff. “You’re too hot to be just a friend.” He didn’t know what he was saying, but we would be having a conversation about it soon enough. He tried to pull his hand from mine, but I refused to let go.
I frowned over at Lagamal. “You should go. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to wake you.”
He waved me off. “You know I’m always here for you, and your… friend.” He speared me with a look, putting emphasis on the last word. Oh yes, he knew exactly what Uly was to me.
The doctor finished stitching him up but assured me he would heal quickly, even faster if he could fit in another purge.
The house seemed too quiet in the wake of all the activity. Uly was still half awake as I perched on the edge of the bed and dipped a towel into the bowl of water, wringing it out. “You were incredibly lucky today, sin-eater,” I said tightly. I carefully wiped at the blood smeared over his torso.
He let out a pained sigh but managed to dredge up something that came close to a smile. “I’m fine. I’m a sin-eater, after all. I’ve had worse.”
“Strangely enough, that doesn’t make me feel better,” I grumbled sarcastically.
Anger licked at my insides as I fought to keep my touch gentle, even as I wanted to grab Uly by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “What on earth were you thinking?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You should have waited for me. Stopping that demon was not worth your life.”
The mere thought of losing him kindled that spark of irritation into a roaring inferno.
The possibility of never hearing his laugh again, of his warmth cooling, his scent fading.
There would be no more games of I Spy, no more thinly veiled innuendos or sassy winks.
The world without Ulysses Teresi would be a darker place, a world I had no interest in living in.
A crease formed between his brows as he stared up at me, watching me tend to him. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, and despite his centuries, he sounded so young in that moment, so vulnerable.
I paused, staring down at my hand splayed across his ribs, my thumb tracing the edge of the stark-white bandage.
He was so fragile, so temporary. “It’s not you I’m mad at,” I whispered raggedly.
“It’s me. I never should’ve involved you in this case.
It was my responsibility, but I thought I could use you, like you’re some kind of fucking tool.
It’s my fault this happened. I shouldn’t have—”
Uly set his hand over mine, cutting off my rant with a touch.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” he said, squeezing my hand gently, as if in reminder that he was still here.
“It was my choice. You might be pushy as all hell, but I still could’ve walked away.
In fact, if memory serves, I’m pretty sure you were against my walking around downtown by myself.
” When I still wouldn’t look at him, he reached up and tilted my chin up with a blood-stained finger.
“I’m okay. I promise. And I’m in this with you, no matter where it leads us.
Though, maybe next time, we should stick together. Okay?”
Together. I swallowed thickly, my throat too tight to draw a full breath. “Okay.”
“Now, aren’t we going to talk about that thing? What was it? Because I’m pretty sure Suzy homemaker didn’t just make a wrong turn on the way to picking up the kids from soccer practice.”
I shook my head, helping to peel off the remains of Uly’s torn shirt. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. If there’s one thing I know about ancient demons, it’s that they’ll still be there when you wake up. For now, you need to rest.”
Uly heaved a sigh but relented. He must’ve been more exhausted than he let on. His eyes drifted shut even before I’d finished cleaning him up.
I knew I should’ve gone to sleep in the guest room to give him his privacy, but after how close I came to losing him, I couldn’t bring myself to leave his side.
So instead, I lay down on the bed beside him and watched over him, until the steady rise and fall of his chest lulled me into a haunted sleep.