Page 170 of Deadwood
I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You can’t hurt me. Nothing can.” I offered a weak smile.
I didn’t look as Quinn and Jestin, her assistant, worked on securing the wound around the arrow, and in turn, Taylin didn’t either.
“That’s not true,” she whispered, her lips glistening with the saliva spewed from them with her screams.
“It can be if I believe it hard enough.” But even my past came around in times like these to prove that I wasn’t impenetrable. “Do you believe in a lot of things, Taylin?”
She winced as Quinn shifted her leg slightly, a trickle of sweat sliding down her forehead. “Yes.”
Quinn started giving Jestin orders on what he was to do once the arrow was out, but I didn’t want Taylin to hear. Didn’t want her falling into another panic.
“Tell me about them.”
“Butterflies are a sign something good is coming,” she murmured. “And bedtime stories aren’t just stories.”
My thumb continued its strokes along her skin. “What are they?”
“Twisted tales of the truth.” She swallowed hard, clearly parched. “My dad used to tell me that.”
The corner of my mouth twitched with a smile. “Smart man.”
She tried to smile back, but it fell flat. “The smartest.”
Before I could ask what else she believed in, her brows pinched, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Squeeze my hand, Taylin.”
She tried, but her grip was weak, and then she let out a scream, her neck arching as her head pressed against the table, her back bowing.
I looked to find Quinn hadn’t even touched the arrow yet, which meant something was wrong. My memory flashed back to the sight of the arrow as the guard nocked it back, right before I killed the fucker where he stood. Amongst the flames of the night, the head of the arrow had been glowing. Orange. Bright orange.
“Quinn…” I started.
More drops of sweat fell from Taylin’s hairline. Her hand was cold in mine. This wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be having these reactions over a wound like this.
But before I could say more, Quinn’s hand wrapped around the shaft and pulled. I tried to block out the squelching sounds as the point emerged from Taylin’s thigh. The arrow was thrown to the side as Jestin popped the cork on the vial, instantly drizzling it over the wound. Taylin’s panting filled my ears, and I turned to find her eyes rolling back into her head.
A pained roar sounded from somewhere in the distance outside the infirmary.
“Quinn!” I shouted, moving to stand above Taylin.
Her hand went limp in mine as her eyes drifted shut, her breathing instantly turning shallow.
“What’s happening to her?” I demanded.
Done emptying the vial, Jestin bent to pick up the arrow, lifting it to eye level. “Doctor Quinn…”
Quinn turned at the same time I did, and we both stopped at the sight.
The tip of the arrow was still glowing orange, the magic vibrant and alive as ever.
But it wasn’t magic…
It was?—
“Poison.”
CHAPTER 54
