Page 8 of Incurably Cupid

“He was shot several times before he was able to change,” I informed her curtly. “After the change, the bullets pinged off him.”

She jerked her head up, as if noticing me, the woman with bubblegum pink hair and pink wings, in the room for the first time. Seriously, had someone drugged her?

“Your Highness,” I asked King Draven, “has someone drugged your wife?” It was a distinct possibility, given what had just happened, and I was becoming concerned.

King Draven took the towels from the servant and, with hands stained red from his friend and bodyguard’s blood, changed out his jacket for the towel before gazing at his wife. His expression was a mix of grief for his friend and tense anxiety for his wife. “Mia, come here.”

She jerked her head up; tears streamed down her face as she soothingly ran her hands through Mesmer’s short hair. “Why?”

“I need to taste your blood.”

Consort Mia spluttered, then glared at him. “Absolutely not! This is hardly the time for that!”

“Mia,” King Draven growled, “I need to test your blood for poisons.”

Mia bit her lip as she looked down at Mesmer, then sighed. “I need something sharp.” A security officer handed her a well-sharpened dagger, and she pricked her right index finger beforeoffering her blood to her husband, who licked the drop without any fanfare.

“It’s clean,” he said after a moment, and I had to believe him. Vampires were well known for being able to detect even the slightest traces of poisons and foreign contaminants in blood.

The EMTs finally arrived and began assessing Mesmer, who regained consciousness as they lifted him onto the gurney. They had to be shifters because Mesmer looked to be 250 pounds of solid muscle, and they lifted him without even a grunt of effort. They checked his airway to ensure he was breathing okay, checked his other vitals, and then started packing and dressing his wounds with thick rolls of gauze along his chest and back.

Consort Mia clung to King Draven as he bent down and whispered something to Mesmer. Mesmer nodded, pain etched on his face as he lifted his head off the gurney and met my gaze in the crowded room. “Come with me?”

I blinked, surprised, then nodded, following the shifters as they began wheeling him toward the ambulance. The red lights of the sirens illuminated the courtyard, casting the darkness in bright red flashes.

I climbed in and sat next to Mesmer while the EMT driver closed the door after his partner entered the back of the ambulance with me, and then we took off, sirens and lights blazing.

My list of things to do today did not include riding in the back of an ambulance. Then again, I doubted it had been in Mesmer’s plans either. I knew he must be in extreme pain, but he patiently endured the ministrations of the EMT who was fighting to keep him from bleeding out without making a sound.

“Will he be okay?”

The shifter’s hands hesitated, then continued. “I don’t know. Gargoyles are tricky because magic can’t be used to help heal them. Their bodies are immune to it. Normally, he could takean elven potion keyed to his DNA to assist with surgery and recovery, but it won’t work on him.” The shifter looked up at me, tawny eyes blazing with determination. “I can tell you that his vitals are holding steady, and my sense of smell tells me the shots went clean through. They didn’t shatter bone or get lodged in an organ. That doesn’t mean they didn’t pierce one, though.”

I winced, glancing down at Mesmer as his eyes slowly closed. Alarms began pinging in the cramped space, and the shifter cursed, gently snapping an oxygen mask over Mesmer’s nose and mouth. “His O2 is dropping.” He watched the oximeter continue to plummet, then quickly reached for a blood pressure cuff and tried to wrap it around Mesmer’s massive bicep. But it didn’t fit because Mesmer’s arms were too large. The shifter cursed again and fumbled for one that looked large enough to fit around my thighs. He quickly secured it around Mesmer’s bicep and took his readings. “His blood pressure is dropping.” He spun and smashed a button next to a speaker, and I could hear his voice both in the back and in the front of the ambulance say, “Code Blue.”

The ambulance sped up significantly, careening around turns so quickly that I had to hold on for dear life. I wrapped my wings around my body, hoping they wouldn’t get damaged.

We screeched to a stop in front of the hospital, and the EMTs wasted no time getting Mesmer out and through the automatic doors into the ER. Doctors and nurses crowded around us, receiving the hand-off stats from the EMTs before he was wheeled into a private room on the ground floor.

They were about to shut the door in my face, but Mesmer growled at them to let me in, gasping as he did so. Reluctantly, they allowed me in and ushered me toward a corner chair by the window, ordering me to stay out of their way. The room was complete chaos as they worked to stabilize him. They inserted a PICC line into his right arm, then injected several medications,waiting briefly to see if they helped stabilize him. When they didn’t, they injected something else.

Another nurse checked under the dressings the EMT had applied and continued to take vitals, while another worked on one of the machines he was hooked up to, inputting commands.

Then Mesmer’s heart stopped.

I drew my knees to my chest, wrapping my wings around myself for comfort as they tried to resuscitate him. The heart monitor had been beeping like crazy, but now it was screaming one high-pitched note, a flat unbroken line skimming across its surface.

My fists clenched around my knees as I mentally yelled at him to fight for his life.

A doctor injected another medication into the PICC line while another doctor and nurse performed CPR. The rest of the emergency medical staff waited tensely, staring at the heart monitor. A full minute passed. Then a minute and thirty seconds. Finally, a tiny beep sounded from the machine, followed a few seconds later by another. I released my held breath at the same moment the other medical professionals did, tears stinging my eyes.

A kind nurse crouched in front of me, gazing at me with compassionate eyes. “They’re taking him to surgery.”

“Is that good?” I asked, clearing the thickness from my throat.

Her smile was cautious. “It’s what’s necessary. A doctor will keep you informed about his condition. Expect several hours of surgery.”

I nodded, letting my wings unfurl as I stood. “I’ll go wait in the waiting room.” She nodded and hurried away.

---