Page 16 of Calypso's Shield
I leave, heading straight for Farris. We’re staying in my room for the next twenty-four hours, whether he likes it or not.
I hear a loud rumble pull up to the gates, and I know Scarlett is here before anyone else realizes it. I’m on pins and needles waiting for the front door to open. When it does, Scarlett comes in like a breath of fresh air. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I saw her again. From her black riding boots to her tan skin, she has curves for miles. Heads turn as she walks in, but she ignores them, locking eyes with me.
“Calypso,” Scarlett's voice is like a breath of fresh air. Relief washes over me..
“Shit, bitch. Stop doing that,” I joke, shaking off the haze.
She glances at Farris before smirking. “The atmosphere needed a little… relief.”
I snort. “Trust me, there’s plenty of that going on.”
Farris remains silent, either deaf or mute from whatever the hell Scarlett just did to him.
She frowns. “Then why all the tension?”
I down the rest of my drink and stand. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Scarlett follows me to the back of the clubhouse, her nose wrinkling, probably smelling more than what we can. “What’s going on?” Her hand rests on the hilt of her dagger.
“In here.” I push open the door, revealing the battered boy inside. “Divine and Iris were out riding and found him. Someonebeat the absolute fuck out of him, and tossed him out of a vehicle in the desert. It was his lucky day that our ladies were going for a ride that way and saw him. They brought him back here where we’ve done what we can for him, but we don’t have your expertise.”
Scarlett steps back, pain flashing in her eyes. “I might be too late.”
I nod. “I get it. But we need to try. We have to find the bastards doing this.”
She exhales sharply. “You say that like he’s not the first.”
“He’s not.” My voice is grim. “We’ve found others. All in the same condition. But we’ve been too late every time.”
“Why didn’t you get him to a hospital?” Scarlett asks.
“We had a doc come in and fix what he could. The hospital wouldn’t have been able to do much more, especially without any insurance. And they would be required to file a report. The last thing we need is cops sniffing around. The doc wasn’t hopeful he’d wake up from his coma. Your ability is the only thing that will possibly save him and be able to lead us to who fucking did this to him.”
We cleaned him up the best we could without causing him any more pain. He has a hospital gown on, but every exposed inch of his skin is covered in cuts, bruises, and scars. We have enough connections to medical supplies that we can keep him alive for as long as his body allows it. All we’re missing is a doctor we can call on anytime, anywhere.
Scarlett steps forward, eyes scanning the boy. After a beat, she drops her bag at the foot of the bed and rubs her palms together.
“Everyone out,” she orders. “And stay out for at least six hours.”
“You got it.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Thank you.”
She gives me a tight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. This won’t be easy.”
I nod once. “The fact you’re trying is enough.”
As I step out and close the door behind me, I pray like hell she can save him. Because if she can’t, we’re back at square one.
Two days have passed since Scarlett started healing that boy, and I hope she can do it. If anyone can, she can. I could have her heal my Lupus, but I’ve always decided against it. I feel better when she’s around, so I know her healing hands are managing it for me, but I’m afraid of Scarlett knowing what I have and how bad it gets. She can sense there’s some serious medical issues with me, but she’s never pried and I’ve never told her. I don’t want her to feel obligated to do something about it because we’re friends.
Scarlett steps out of the back room, exhaustion weighing her down. I signal for a beer, the bartender sliding it over, and I grab my whiskey. Sliding into the seat next to Scarlett, I pass her the beer. “What’s the verdict?”
She takes a long pull from the bottle before setting it down. “He’ll make it,” she says, pointing the top of her bottle at me. “I only healed his physical wounds. I don’t know what mental state he’ll wake up in.”
I take a drink, letting her words sink in. The whiskey burns down my throat. “You mean brain damage?”
Scarlett shakes her head. “No, I fixed that. I mean whatever his reaction will be to the abuse he suffered. Physically, his brain is fully restored, but he’s most likely going to have PTSD to deal with. He may have some memory loss from the final beating. There’s only so much I can do. No one goes through somethingthat bad and comes out completely fine, even with magical healing. That said, the kid’s got a lot of defensive wounds. He’s clearly a fighter, so hopefully he’ll wake up ready to take on whatever demons he’s got to face.”
Allura slides into the booth with us, listening intently. I clear my throat, “The final beating?” I ask.
