Chapter 40
Gunnar succeeded in moving the massive slab of rock on top of the amulet just as his lungs had started to burn. He snatched the amulet with his claws, ready to head up for air. There was no time to put it in the basket, not time to collect the pry bar and chem lights. He’d just make another trip.
A new, unmistakable metallic tang filtered through the water.
Blood.
He glanced down. Had he nicked himself? He didn’t feel anything but the tinge of cold and the growing need to breathe. He saw no discoloration that would indicate a cut, either, but the silt he’d disturbed clouded the water, making it hard to tell.
He pushed off the bottom and flattened his body into a sleek missile as he shot to the top, the water inky above him. He bumped into something as he broke the surface. He glanced over.
Mattie. Lying face down in the water.
He shifted immediately in a rush of heat and crackling bone, the change faster than usual, driven by raw panic. He stuffed the amulet into the pocket of his jeans, grabbed her with his other arm, and rolled her face up. He shook her. “Mattie. Mattie!”
No response.
He hauled her out of the water with him and laid her on the flat rock ledge.
Her skin was pale and clammy, her lips tinged blue, but when he pressed his finger lightly to her neck, he found the faint, thready flutter of a pulse. Weak. Too weak. But there.
With her legs still dangling in the basin, he kneeled beside her on the rock. Panic sluiced through him. He didn’t have to guess what had happened. She’d slipped and hit her head. If he’d seen it happen to one tourist, he’d seen it happen to a hundred.
But this wasn’t a tourist. This was the woman he cared for deeply.
He carefully probed the back of her head. His hand came away bloody. His gut twisted. “Hang on, Mattie.”
His ranger training kicked in. First things first, her airway. He tilted her head back gently with one hand under her neck, the other on her forehead, checking for obstructions, but there was nothing visible. No water gurgled out, but her chest wasn’t rising on its own.
He leaned in close, put his ear to her mouth and used every bit of his superior hearing to listen. Shallow, ragged breaths, barely there. No doubt hypothermia was on the verge of setting in; the cold water had leached the heat from her fast. There was no time to waste.
He pinched her nose shut, sealed his mouth over hers, and gave two slow, steady rescue breaths, watching her chest rise each time.
Then he interlaced his hands over the center of her chest, locked his elbows, and started compressions, hard and fast, counting in his head to the old rhythm that had been drilled into him until it became muscle memory.
Thirty compressions, two breaths. Repeat.
Something buzzed around his head. The imp. “What’s happening? Am I dreaming? I just woke up. Why is Mattie lying down? Why are you doing that to her? Is that blood?”
“She got hurt, Blue.” Gunnar couldn’t take more time than that to talk to him. He leaned in again, giving her breaths.
Blueberry buzzed around them in frantic circles, invisible one second, visible the next, his tiny voice high with worry. “Mattie! Wake up, please. Do something, Gunnar!”
“I am. I promise.” He needed to get the water out of her and to get her breathing on her own, but she also needed to get to the hospital.
As he started doing compressions again, he found the imp. “Get the sheriff. Tell him we need an ambulance, immediately.”
Blueberry just looked at him, his chin crumpling like he was about to cry.
“Go, Blue. Now.”
The imp flew off, and Gunnar went back to breathing for her.
He kept it up until her eyelids fluttered and a small cough bubbled up from her throat, followed by water spilling from her lips.
He rolled her gently onto her side and supported her head, letting her expel whatever was in her airway.
Her pulse strengthened under his fingers, breaths coming deeper, though still labored.
He gathered her close against his chest to share warmth. He rubbed her arms briskly but gently to encourage circulation without jostling her too much. “Come on, Mattie,” he muttered, voice rough. “Stay with me.”
No response, but at least she was breathing. He held her close. She had to be okay. She had to be.
Blueberry arrived in a burst of iridescent green, hovering frantic above them. “I got him! Sheriff’s coming. He called the ambulance, too!”
Gunnar gave a single grunt of acknowledgment, too focused to waste words. He scooped Mattie up in one fluid motion, cradling her against his chest like she weighed nothing. Her head lolled against his shoulder, damp hair clinging to her face. He brushed it away.
Her fingers twitched faintly against his chest, just enough to let him know she was still in there. He made sure she was secure, then started toward the trail, taking careful steps with as much speed as possible.
As soon as he was on the trail, he picked up his pace, doing his best not to jostle her in any way that might cause further injury. Warmth seeped into the fabric of his shirt where her head was, a sure sign that her head wound was still bleeding.
Fading moonlight sliced through the canopy in thin silver blades, providing little illumination, but Gunnar moved sure-footed, his eyes finding the path without faltering.
Behind him, the falls dulled to a low roar.
Ahead, the parking lot came into view. Still only two vehicles there, his Tacoma and the sheriff’s SUV.
Hank Merrow met him on the trail, radio crackling at his shoulder. The wolf shifter’s gaze flicked from Gunnar’s face to the limp woman in his arms, assessing in one sharp second. “Ambulance is three minutes out,” Hank said. “What happened?”
“Fell. Hit her head. Cold water. Pulled her out.” Gunnar’s words came out rough, but he was in no mood for elaboration. He adjusted Mattie higher against his chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of her breathing against him.
Hank nodded once. “She conscious?”
“Don’t think so,” Gunnar mumbled. “Head injury plus cold water?”
“Right,” Hank said.
Gunnar added, “Pulse is steady but weak.”
“Let’s get to the parking lot.”
Gunnar followed the sheriff.
The ambulance pulled in, doors flinging open. Two paramedics spilled out with a stretcher and gear bags.
“I called it in as a Code Green,” Hank said.
“Thanks,” Gunnar muttered. That was a new code, meant to let dispatch know the victim was a supernatural. That meant the paramedics would be, too. No need to hide what any of them were.
Gunnar carried Mattie straight to the vehicle.
One paramedic, a woman with a calm, no-nonsense voice, stepped forward. “We’ve got her. Lay her on the stretcher. Easy now.”
Gunnar lowered Mattie carefully, keeping one hand on her arm until the straps were secured.
The paramedics worked fast. In a moment, there was an oxygen mask, blankets piled on, and an IV line started in her arm.
A blanket had been draped around Gunnar, too.
He stayed close, never losing sight of Mattie.
“Family?” the second paramedic, a man, asked.
Gunnar hesitated only a second. “Yeah. I’m riding with her.”
The woman nodded. “Climb in. We’re rolling now.”
Blueberry darted ahead, landing on the edge of the stretcher near Mattie’s shoulder. “I’m coming, too. She needs me!”
Hank raised a brow but said nothing, just held the ambulance door open. Gunnar slid in beside the stretcher, taking the bench seat, one hand finding Mattie’s where it rested outside the blankets. Her fingers were pale and cold against his.
The male paramedic climbed in, closing the doors behind him. The siren wailed to life as the ambulance lurched forward, pavement squealing under the tires. Gunnar stared down at Mattie’s pallid face, thumb brushing her knuckles in slow circles.
The paramedic went to work attaching monitors to her.
“Stay with me,” Gunnar muttered, voice low and rough. He considered using a wish to help her, but would it actually work? Or would it just make things worse? He’d never be able to live with himself if his poor choice of words caused her additional pain. “I can’t lose you.”
Blueberry nestled against her shoulder, tiny wings folded, whispering, “You heard him, Mattie. We need you.”
All Gunnar could do was nod and tell himself that everything was going to be all right.
Even if he wasn’t sure he believed that.