Page 40 of Tested
I inhale and spit the words out. “He’s been shot, and I think you better come.”
Now it’s her turn to be speechless.
“I don’t know who did it or why. We’re at the house, and Connor’s called for a doctor.”
There’s another beat of silence. “On my way.”
She ends the call and I stumble down the stairs. Connor’s still in the media room. “I called Sheena, and she’ll be here soon.”
He nods, propped against the wall as if he needs it to keep from falling over. “Doc’s coming too. She’s good. Pretty much only deals with supernatural stuff.”
“If she can get the bullet out, it’ll help us figure out who they were really aiming at.”
He gives me a puzzled look.
“If it’s silver, they were aiming at him. Otherwise it could have been any of us.”
“Sure.” He shakes his head as if disappointed by his own obtuseness. “You go outside?”
“Blood, 87% human with a touch of vampire, and no body.” I kneel down next to Trajan. “You winged the guy, but that’s all.”
He slides down till his butt hits the floor. “Okay, so human with a touch of vampire makes me think we’re going to find a silver bullet in there.”
He’s probably right. Still, I lean against the sofa’s seat, as close to Trajan as I can get without sitting in his lap, and hope with everything I’ve got that he’s not the target. “Seems pointless to mention that Tray met with Jacques tonight.”
“And even more futile to bring up the fierce mood he was in when he came home.”
Connor’s grim tone weighs on me. Neither of us have a lot to say. We wait. For Trajan, for the doctor, for Sheena. Who’s likely to land on us like a ton of…something heavier than bricks.
Regardless of whether any of this is our fault, Connor and I are going to catch high holy hell from Sheena for letting Trajan take that bullet.
The doctor gets here first, thank fuck. She’s an odd little person who might well exist on more than one plane at a time. She reminds me of Edna fromThe Incredibles, but less substantial.
If it’s possible for an animated character to be substantial in the first place.
The doctor is carrying a clichéd black leather bag, which she opens on the small table at the end of the sofa. I can’t see what it contains – literally, the whole table turns blurry so I don’t know what the fuck she’s got in there – and she starts up the sort of tuneless humming that’ll find my last nerve quicker than just about anything.
Under normal circumstances, anyway. If she wants to hum while she saves Trajan’s life, I’m all for it.
She and Connor start up an intense, sotto voce conversation. They’re either speaking a foreign language or the doctor can distort her words the way she blurs the table. I’m almost glad when I hear Sheena at the door. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t beat the shit out of me before she comes down here, but the doctor is creepy af.
I meet Sheena at the top of the stairs. She’s dressed for a night out with the gang, the toned-down version, which means she was probably playing bodyguard for some spoiled celebrity when I called. She gives me a quick once-over, taking in my swimming pool hair, bare and hairless chest, and sagging sweats. “You smell like sex. Tell me you weren’t fucking when Trajan got shot.”
I remind myself that he’s her closest friend, and don’t respond in kind. “There’s a doctor with him now. Hopefully she’ll be able to get the bullet out.”
She pushes past me, heading down the stairs. “Is he in much pain?”
“I don’t know.”
She shoots a glare over her shoulder, a look so hot I should be cinders.
“He’s been unresponsive since he got shot.”
That slows her down. “Unresponsive? But you know he’s alive, right?”
I don’t have an answer for her, because I have no idea how to tell if an undead being is dead-dead instead of just unconscious. We get down the rest of the stairs in silence.
The door to the media room is locked.
