6. Bella, First Patients & Darius Hunt
Chapter six
Bella, First Patients he’s assessing.
Oh, he says quietly.
That single word somehow raises every hair on my arms. That is not a normal man. Old blood.
I read about the island when I took the job. The Hunt name is on half the plaques in the town. The harbor town is named for his family: Hunt’s Harbor. His family are the founders and benefactors. He’s clearly wealthy.
Now his black eyes examine me. There’s no flicker of surprise. Just … attention. Focused, direct and piercing. And I shiver a little…
He places beautiful flowers he brought on the table rather than handing them to me. Deliberate. Measured.
“For you, doctor. Exotic flowers that thrive in difficult conditions,” he says.
His voice is deep and low. Something inside me goes very still. Because I’ve heard that voice before. It’s somehow familiar. I get goosebumps for a moment.
“Thank you, Mr. Hunt. That’s very kind. I love flowers.”
“Please call me Darius.”
“And you can call me Bella. Or Arabella, if you wish.”
He now steps past me into the room where Silas is and says in that deep voice, “Doctor Russo, or Bella… Mayor Calloway said you’d arrived. I came to pay my respects. I didn’t expect to find you working already.”
I follow him in, now, slightly angry. “And I didn’t expect people to just walk into a treatment room without knocking or permission.”
One corner of his mouth lifts, not quite a smile. “You’ll find expectations adjust quickly here on Bloodhaven Cove.”
“It’s still a medical clinic, sir. There must be some privacy for doctor and patients here!”
Finn makes a small, strangled sound that might be a laugh trying not to exist.
Darius turns his attention from Silas for a moment and steps closer to me. The temperature in the room seems to drop a degree. I stand my ground.
“As a council member, I’m worried about everyone on the island, especially since we have no police force. I need to ask him a few questions.”
I’m still a little angry, but he has a point. These are odd injuries and if he can help…
I gesture for him to proceed. As if he would have waited for my permission.
He looks down at Silas, expression unreadable. “What did you see, Silas? Who or what did this to you?” he asks.
Silas’s eyes lock onto his. For a moment, fear flares there—authentic, unmistakable.
“Not like you,” he says hoarsely. “Something else. Something wild.”
A flicker of something crosses Darius’s face. Gone almost immediately.
“Where?” he asks.
“On the edge of The Wilds,” Silas whispers. “Near my old shed… it—”
His voice cuts off as a tremor runs through him.
I press down on the gauze, irritation flaring. “He needs to rest,” I say. “This wound—”
“I need answers, doctor. I’m here to see what’s happening on my island.”
There’s something in the phrasing that makes me pause. My island.
I tilt my head slightly. “Last I checked, the island belonged to the town. Or to no one at all.”
A faint curve touches his mouth. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything I can define.
“Semantics,” he says.
“Those matter where I come from.”
“They matter here as well,” he replies. “Just not in the same way.”
Finn makes a small, warning sound. “Doctor—”
“I’m asking questions,” I say lightly. “Things I need to know to treat patients.”
Darius’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Good,” he says. “You’ll need that kind of spirit here.”
Silas swallows, gaze flicking briefly to me, then back to Darius. “It was something between the trees. Came outta nowhere.”
“Describe it.”
Silas shakes his head slightly. “Didn’t get a good look. Too dark, too foggy. Just it looked wrong. Tall, leaning forward. Moved wrong.”
Darius’s eyes narrow a fraction. “You were alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Did it feed?”
The word sounds odd in the room. Feed. I feel the strangeness. So does Finn, judging by the way he shifts behind me. Silas hesitates.
“Not … exactly,” he says finally. “It attacked my neck and started … It took some blood but then stopped.”
The room goes very quiet. What the hell does that mean?
I step forward before I can think better of it. “Silas needs rest now, I insist.”
I usher Darius out. He stops in the hallway and faces me as I talk.
“Mr. Hunt, his wound is unusual,” I say, focusing on what I do know. “Punctures with tearing, abnormal bleeding. I’ve stabilized him for now, but his clotting response is delayed. And I’ve got another patient with unexplained blood anemia.”
Darius turns his head slightly.
“Another patient,” he repeats.
“Female. Mid-thirties. Bruising, fatigue, a wound on her wrist.”
He considers that for a moment.
Then he asks, “How long has she been symptomatic?”
“She says a few days,” I say. “Maybe longer.”
“Silas should not have been in The Wilds. Doctor … Bella, please be sure you do not wander there. I’ll take my leave now. But I’ll need to talk to Silas again. And to you.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Is there something happening here that affects my patients? If so, I need to know about it,” I say directly.
“I’ll inform you of what you need to know, Bella.”
I take a step closer. “With respect, that’s not acceptable, Mr. Hunt. I can’t treat people blindly.”
For a second, I think he’s going to push back. Instead, that faint curve returns to his mouth.
“Then don’t be blind,” he says. “And you must call me Darius. I insist.”
Despite my worries and a touch of frustration, the nearness of this man, the sound of his deep voice, the look of him, does something to me. Like a little thrill. But I try not to show it.
Bella, Charlie says, you’re going to make extremely questionable decisions around this man.
I ignore him.
Darius looks at me for a moment then turns, moving toward the front door.
“That’s it?” I call after him. “You’re just going to walk in, ask questions, and leave?”
He pauses at the threshold, not turning.
“For now,” he says in that deep voice. “I did bring flowers.”
Then he’s gone. Silence settles over the room.
I look at Finn. He looks back at me.
“Well,” I say finally. “That was … helpful.”
Finn huffs a laugh. “You’re going to love it here, Bella. And you know, no one ever questions his authority, about anything.”
“Well, I will.”
“You do you, doctor. It might be good for the grand Darius Hunt.”
Or not, says Charlie as I look at him with a scowl.
We go back to check on Silas.
“Things are changing,” Silas murmurs as we enter the room, like he’s continuing a conversation no one else can hear. “You feel it?”
Finn doesn’t answer. But something in his posture tightens.
“Are you hungry, Silas? When did you last eat?”
“Can’t remember.”
“Well Finn here is going to warm up some chicken soup for you.” I saw some in the kitchen that he stocked.
“On it,” Finn replies. “Doctor’s orders, Silas.”
I glance down at Silas, at the wound that still doesn’t make sense, at the blood sample sitting quietly on the tray that isn’t quite right. And think of The Wilds, what they said.
Something is odd.