Dead Spots (Scarlett Bernard #1)(77)

“You stupid man,” I scolded, trying not to cry into the wound.

I was trying to tear a strip of my shirt to put over the bullet hole. In the movies, they always rip bandages like nobody’s business, but with shaking hands, I couldn’t even get a tear started.

“Here,” Kirsten said, unbuttoning the floral shirt, “take this.”

I thanked her and pushed it down hard onto the bullet hole, leaning into it.

“Ow,” he protested weakly.

“Shut up,” I said. “What were you thinking, charging in here with no weapon? You could have been killed!”

“I brought a weapon,” he argued, looking pointedly at Kirsten. “She kicked ass, too.”

“Thank you, Eli,” Kirsten said, smiling. She looked pale and tired. “I’m not usually a combat kind of witch, so I appreciate it.”

“And how did you get here?” I asked her. “I thought you were going to Santa Barbara tonight. Or did he make that up?”

“No, I was there. But Eli knows one of the witches, who knew someone with Paul’s cell phone number, and we left the reception. Then it was just a matter of the tracking spell.”

“What’d you use?” I asked, my attention still focused on Eli’s back. I almost missed the glance the two of them exchanged before Eli answered.

“I had a T-shirt you left at my place once.”

I didn’t remember doing that, but I didn’t care, either. I gently eased Eli onto his side so I could check his chest. “Okay, I’m not a doctor, but I know it didn’t go through, which means the bullet is still in there. And it’s silver. I can’t go after him until we get it out.”

“You shouldn’t go after him at all—” Eli began.

“Shut up. Concentrate on your bleeding,” I told him firmly. I looked at Kirsten. “We have to get the bullet out. Once it’s gone, I can move away, and he’ll heal fast, but it has to come out first, or the silver will poison him.”

“We can try to get it out the old-fashioned way. Hang on.” She scuttled over to Jared Hess’s workbench, and I heard tools rattling around. When she came back, she had what looked like an enormous pair of iron tweezers. “Do you want to do it?” she asked me.

I shook my head, suddenly afraid.

“Okay. Eli, this is gonna be messy and hurt like hell, but it should get the job done. Ready?”

He looked at me and reached toward me with his good arm. Seeing what he wanted, I dropped down to my side and scooted against him, chest to chest. I wrapped one arm carefully around his back above the bullet hole to hold him still.

“I’m ready,” he said to Kirsten, but his eyes never left mine.

The next few minutes were some of the worst of my life, much less Eli’s. Apologizing like crazy, Kirsten dug in with the forceps, while Eli made very human whimpering noises right beside me.

“Should we be worrying about infection?” she muttered to me.

I bit my lip. “I don’t think so. The wolves never get sick; I don’t think they can get infected. I think, when I move away, he should be fine.”

Eli snarled at a particularly painful dig, burying his face in my neck, and a second later, Kirsten pulled back the forceps with a little smushed bullet pinioned in between them.

“I got it,” she said shakily, then stood up. “Excuse me a minute.” She sprinted over to the bottom of the stairs, where I heard her start to retch.

As soon as she moved, I started to get up myself, intending to get as far away as possible so Eli could heal. But he lifted a weak hand to snag my arm before I could fully stand. “Wait,” he said, and I crouched back down. “I want to go with you,” he said soberly. “You can’t face that guy and Dashiell alone. Just give me a minute to heal and—”

“No f*cking way,” I told him, tears in my throat. “You got shot, Eli. With silver. And he’s got a ton more silver ammo. I can’t let you come.”

“But—”

“No,” I said, my voice rising. “I can’t do it.”

He paused and looked at me. “Can’t do what?”

“I can’t...I can’t be responsible for anyone else getting hurt. Not today.” In an attempt to ward off tears, I smiled. “And right now, I think I can even outrun you.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, but I leaned down and kissed him, not very gently. His good arm rose to touch my face, and when I finally broke the kiss, he was smiling at me.

“I’ll accept that as your surrender,” I told him.

I let go of his hand and stood up, brushing off my jeans. “Where are we?” I asked Kirsten, who was sitting on the stairs now.

“A little ranch house in Burbank, just off the 101.”

“Did you guys drive separately?”

She nodded, and I squatted back down to dig Eli’s keys out of his pants pocket.

“Hey!” he said.

“I’m taking your phone, too. I’ll bring it back later,” I told him. I headed for the stairs before he could answer, feeling the tug as he slid out of my radius. The second he was out, he gave a surprised gasp, and I looked back to see color already returning to his face. Good. I went over to Kirsten and crouched to hug her. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.