Chapter 3 - Elena
Work was a welcome distraction from thoughts of arrogant, obnoxious, frustratingly gorgeous men. Within minutes of stepping into the clinic, Elena had forgotten all about her encounter with Ryder at the coffee shop due to sheer mental overload. First, a gremlin cub knocked over a container of alchemical supplies, flooding half the examination room and wailing when faced with efforts to clean up. Next, a furious siren spat venomously at her while Elena tried desperately to brew up a fresh tonic for the patient's throat infection since her supply had been spilled in the earlier accident. By lunchtime, she was exhausted, wishing she could curl up with a blanket on the couch and ignore the world forever.
Of course, her shift was far from over, and it was one of those days where everything went wrong all at once. As soon as she had made herself a nice cup of tea and sat by the table in the break room, an urgent message popped up, flagged from the front reception desk. It was from Dr. Westbrook, instructing her to meet him at one of the hospital beds. With an exasperated sigh, she got to her feet again, glanced longingly at the steaming cup, and hurried down the corridor back to the examination room.
The smell of iron and sulfur flooded her nostrils as she pushed the door open and stepped through. There, Dr. Westbook stood over a raised, padded table, his salt-and-pepper brows knitted together. On the table was a grey, furry humanoid—a shifted wolf. As she approached, Elena noticed the wolf's fur was mangy and matted, littered with deep gashes and bite marks, many still oozing pus. The patient appeared unconscious, and the doctor applied a heavy layer of disinfectant over the wounds. As the alcohol hit the festering flesh, the shifter winced slightly in pain, although he didn't wake up.
“What happened to him?” Elena asked, her voice hushed as she gingerly inspected one particularly gruesome bite mark on the poor man's neck.
It wasn't the first time she'd seen this kind of violence, having grown up around wolf shifters, but this didn't look like the usual brawl wounds. These looked deliberate as if the attacker had gone out of their way to cause as much damage as possible. Wolves were usually practical creatures who would cease fighting when continuing was no longer advantageous. This poor soul looked long past the point where he could have fought back. It was a miracle he had survived at all.
“All I know is that it was a fellow shifter,” the doctor said, putting down his cloth and picking up the patient's chart to jot down notes. “A relative found him passed out in the woods and brought him here. We're going to need your skillset for this one, Elena. He's beyond what conventional medicine can do for him.”
The dream she'd had last night flashed before her eyes momentarily as she looked over the injured wolf's condition. Rabid, feral wolves circling a defenseless victim, ready to tear into flesh with their teeth. She blinked and shook her head violently, driving the memory away. Her anxiety would have to wait. Right now, their patient needed her. Taking a deep breath, she smiled bravely at the doctor and nodded.
“Don't worry, I've got this,” she said with a little more confidence than she felt. Dr. Westbrook beamed at her and squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
Without hesitation, Elena gathered herbs and medicinal ingredients necessary for crafting the healing paste. Another nurse, Beth, scurried back and forth, helping with preparations and keeping an eye on the patient. With a mortar and pestle, she ground up arnica flowers and yarrow roots for rapid tissue repair and mixed them with comfrey leaves to accelerate regeneration. On the side, she boiled water and mixed in honey, aloe vera, and wild thyme to fight infection. Finally, she added a few drops of chamomile essence to help soothe the wolf's nerves. As she mixed it all together into a thick healing paste, she murmured quietly to herself, speaking ancient words that held magic within them, feeling them infuse themselves into the mixture.
After several minutes, she lifted the finished product and examined her work carefully. Magic always made her nervous. From what she knew, her birth mother had been a witch, but the Sterlings had adopted Elena as an infant. Despite her heritage, she had never quite mastered the craft. She adored her shifter family, but they hadn't been able to teach her anything useful in terms of actual magical studies. Still, despite distinctly lacking gifts in the arts of spells, hexes, charms, or conjuring, she had a natural gift for herbalism and alchemy. The other witches in town liked to tease her that plants were the only magic she knew. As a nurse, though, it had come in handy many times. With luck, it would do the trick again today.
Gently, she smoothed the balm over his mangled arms, shoulders, chest, abdomen, legs, and face, taking extra care not to apply too much pressure and potentially cause him more pain. She stepped back and took a deep breath, watching the mixture slowly sink into his skin. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, and she worried that it hadn't worked. Maybe she had added too much milk thistle and not enough licorice root? What if she had botched the incantations? She bit her lower lip, glancing nervously at Beth, who stood with furrowed brows and watched intently.
However, just as Elena began to entertain the notion of admitting defeat, she saw it—a glimmering effect rippling over the wounds. The muscles and tendons began to twitch and spasm underneath his torn flesh. Gently, slowly, they started stitching themselves back together, reconnecting severed nerves and muscle fibers. Truth be told, it looked horribly painful, but the wolf slept soundly. A lump formed in her throat, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Oh, thank goodness. It was working.
Soon, most of his gashes healed entirely, leaving only faint lines marking where the claw marks used to be. By now, the sun was low in the sky, and she was utterly spent. But she'd done it. A sense of relief washed over her and left her grinning widely, proud of her work. The coven elders could say whatever they wanted. Her magic might not be all that impressive when it comes to traditional spellcasting, but today, it has saved a life. She wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm and beamed at Beth, who grinned back at her.
“You're amazing,” the younger nurse complimented her enthusiastically. “Do you think he'll be all right, though? I mean, you patched him up, but what do we do next?”
“Wait until he wakes up, I guess. I reckon the wolves will want to talk to him,” Elena speculated aloud, rolling her eyes. “Not that they'll tell us anything. They never do.”
Beth snorted derisively in agreement. “Typical,” she agreed. “I'll go tell Dr. Westbrook that the treatment was a success, and then you can go ahead and clock out. You look exhausted.”
She reached forward and squeezed Elena's arm before leaving the room. Elena nodded, glancing at the clock. Her shift should have ended almost two hours ago. She stretched, reaching toward the ceiling with both arms outstretched while yawning widely. Her muscles ached dully with fatigue. What a day. Hopefully, tomorrow will be calmer.
***
No such luck. Ten minutes after she arrived for her shift the following morning, another victim arrived, half-carried, half-dragged through the entrance. This one was a young bear shifter, looking every bit as pitiful and torn-up as the wolf from yesterday. The injuries were strikingly similar—bites and scratches from fangs and claws everywhere, deep gashes bleeding profusely, the patient was unconscious and unable to respond to questioning.
Just like yesterday, Elena mixed up a fresh batch of balm, recited the magic words, and coated the wounds. This time, just in case, she brewed up an extra batch and stored it in the refrigerator. Usually, she didn't bother since they only had a shelf life of a couple of days, and there were rarely incidents like this in Bellefleur, so she didn't like to waste ingredients. With two such attacks in as many days, though, it seemed prudent to stock up on emergency supplies. It all gave her a very bad feeling, and Elena knew to trust her intuition. Something was going on.
That feeling only intensified later in the day when she passed the wolf shifter's room and glanced through the glass window panel in the door. There sat the achingly familiar form of Ryder Pierce, shaggy blond hair falling in front of his hazel eyes as he leaned forward to study the sleeping wolf. Zach sat next to him, and the two were having some kind of conversation, speaking in quiet tones so Elena couldn't catch what they were saying.
The pack was expected to get involved in this, but she wasn't prepared to see Ryder so soon. Or at all, really. Once again, her stupid heart did that thing it always did when she laid eyes on him, stuttering erratically against her rib cage. He wasn't even looking at her, and she still had to pause and steady herself so her knees wouldn't buckle. Should she go in there? She worked here, after all. She had every excuse to. She could tell them she needed to check in on the patient, try to eavesdrop on their discussion, and figure out what was going on.
And, well, sure, a part of her desperately hoped that he would actually take note of her presence and acknowledge her as a person, but that wasn't the point. Of course not. That would be pathetic and desperate, and she was neither of those things. She was an independent woman who was completely over Ryder and no longer cared whether he deigned to glance at her or not. Obviously. This was entirely about her wanting to know what was happening to these poor patients.
“You okay there, sis?” The familiar voice of her older brother, Tolliver, broke through her racing thoughts.
Startled, she flinched and snapped her gaze toward him. He was a solid foot taller than her and broad across the shoulders, his chestnut brown hair slicked back neatly and stubble dotting his square jawline. He was part of the shifter pack, though, always off on some dangerous business or other, so she supposed it made sense. Tolliver, Ryder, and Zach had all been inseparable since middle school. Where they were, her brother was certain to be nearby.
“Uh, yeah,” she managed lamely, brushing back a stray lock of flame-red hair and tucking it behind one ear. “You never came home last night. Where have you been?”
The corner of Tolliver's mouth tugged upward into an easy half-smile. “Nothing you need to worry about, Ellie. Got held up late at work. We've got everything handled,” he assured her quickly, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Now, you know better than to gossip and snoop. Leave those two to their work and get back to yours. I'm sure you've got a lot to deal with there.”
“Who is he?” she pressed on, glancing at the still-unconscious patient on the table. “We had another patient who was hurt like that this morning. What's going on?”
“A stray rogue, probably,” he answered with a shrug. “Seriously, don't worry about it. Like I said, we've got this. All you need to worry about is doing your job and taking care of any other patients who come in. All right?”
He gave her another reassuring smile and condescendingly patted her on the head. She glared up at him, which only made him laugh and ruffle her hair even more aggressively. This time, Elena huffed loudly, swatting his hand away as her cheeks flushed pink with annoyance. He ignored this, giving her one last playful shove to the shoulder before turning and marching into the wolf's room, greeting the other two men.
Ryder looked up, and his hazel eyes met hers for a second over Tolliver's shoulder. It was enough to set her heart racing yet again. The moment passed, however, and he turned and nodded casually to Tolliver in response to whatever he had said, not giving her a second look. Disappointment sank in her belly, heavy and cold, and she scowled before stalking off in the opposite direction, muttering bitterly under her breath as she headed down the hallway to get changed and wash up before heading home.
All of this was infuriating, and she needed to talk to someone who wasn't just going to blow her off like a child. To that end, as she stepped outside into the cool evening air at the end of her shift and rather than head home like she usually did, she took a left down the road toward Hayley's house to talk to her best friend. If there was anyone who would understand, it would be her. They had been thick as thieves since kindergarten, and even though Hayley was busy being a mom these days, they still made sure to check in with each other regularly.
At the door, she was let in by Greta, the old woman who had cared for Hayley since childhood. “Hayley is just putting the boy down for the night. She'll be with you in a minute, I'm sure,” Greta said cheerfully. “Come have a seat in the library in the meantime, dear. How has your week been?”
Elena smiled politely and let the woman escort her to the comfortable, cozy library down the hall. They chatted idly for a few minutes, making small talk about the baby and how the clinic was doing. Soon enough, the blonde, curly-haired ray of sunshine that was Hayley burst into the room, wrapped Elena in a warm, crushing hug, and dragged her up to her old bedroom.
“Tell me everything,” she ordered without preamble. “I'm going crazy cooped up in here all day with him teething. I need some gossip!”
Elena laughed, flopping onto the plush bedspread dramatically. “Believe me, I wish I had something good for you,” she sighed, “but it's all stress and drama. There have been these crazy attacks lately, but none of the wolves are telling us what's happening.” She glanced slyly over at her friend, arching an eyebrow. “You wouldn't know anything about that, would you? I bet Zach tells you everything.”
Hayley wrinkled her nose playfully and joined Elena on the bed. “Unfortunately, you guessed wrong,” she replied regretfully. “It sounds serious, though. Are we talking vampires or warlocks, or what?”
“I don't know, that's the problem!” Elena exclaimed. “There are these two patients who look like a wild animal has mauled them, and Tolliver keeps brushing me off like I'm a kid who can't handle things, and I keep having these weird dreams, and Ryder is back in town, and I feel like I'm going crazy! No one's telling me anything. It feels like there's something important going on that no one's talking about. I don't even know where to begin.”
“Okay, okay, slow down,” Hayley laughed, shaking her head. “This sounds like it calls for some serious girl time. Let's do a girls' night tomorrow, just me and you. It's been way too long since we had a proper night out. We can go to the bar and find you a cute guy or two to flirt with, maybe make you forget about a certain moody wolf—”
“I don't care about Ryder,” Elena interjected swiftly.
“Uh-huh, sure,” Hayley teased, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say. Anyway, how about it? I'll do some digging when Zach comes home tonight, and we can regroup tomorrow and put our heads together over a few glasses of wine. Like old times. Sound good?” The blonde beamed over at her best friend, hopefully.
Elena couldn't help but mirror her excitement, sitting up and smiling despite herself. “Oh my god, that sounds perfect,” she gushed eagerly. “You're the best, Hales. I’ve seriously missed you.”
She flung her arms around her friend in an enthusiastic hug, and the two giggled with delight as they made plans for the following evening. The dark cloud hanging over Elena's head dissipated just from being in the presence of her best friend.
Maybe it would all turn out to be nothing. They would meet at the bar and order some drinks, swap stories, and gossip, and she could forget all about strange nightmares, mysterious injuries, and handsome wolves who acted like jerks. Tomorrow couldn't come quickly enough.