Lover Revealed (Black Dagger Brotherhood #4)(18)

“Mahmen says that we can only stay here a little while longer. Is that true?”

The mother opened her mouth, but Marissa answered, “You don’t have to worry about leaving. We need to take care of your leg first.”

These were not wealthy civilians, probably couldn’t pay for any of this, but Havers never turned anyone away. And he wasn’t going to rush them out.

“Mahmen says that my leg is bad. Is that true?”

“Not for long.” Marissa glanced down at the blankets. Havers was going to operate on the compound fracture momentarily. Hopefully it would heal right.

“Mahmen says I’ll be in the green room for an hour. Can it be shorter than that?”

“My brother will keep you there only as long as he has to.”

Havers was going to replace her shinbone with a titanium rod, which was better than losing the limb but still a hard path. The young would need more operations as she grew, and going by the mother’s exhausted eyes, the female knew this was just the beginning.

“I’m not scared.” The young tucked her tattered stuffed tiger in closer to her neck. “Mastimon is coming with me. The nurse said he could.”

“Mastimon will protect you. He is fierce, as a tiger should be.”

“I told him not to eat anybody.”

“Wise of you.” Marissa reached into the skirting pocket of her pale pink gown and took out a leather box. “I have something for you.”

“A present?”

“Yes.” Marissa turned the box to face the young and opened it. Inside, there was a gold plate about the size of a tea saucer, and the precious object was buffed to a high shine, all mirror bright, gleaming like sunshine.

“That’s so pretty,” the child breathed.

“This is my wishing plate.” Marissa took it out and turned the thing over. “Do you see my initial on the back?”

The young squinted. “Yes. And look! There’s a letter like as in my name.”

“I had yours added. I’d like you to have this.”

There was a little gasp from the mother in the corner. Clearly she knew what all that gold was worth.

“Really?” the young said.

“Hold your hands out.” Marissa put the gold disk in the girl’s palms.

“Oh, it’s so heavy.”

“Do you know how these wishing plates work?” When the young shook her head, Marissa took out a little piece of parchment and a fountain pen. “Think of a wish and I’ll write it down. While you sleep, the Scribe Virgin will come and read it.”

“If she doesn’t give you your wish, does that mean you’re bad?”

“Oh, no. It just means she has something better planned for you. So what would you like? It can be anything. Ice cream when you wake up. More Dora?”

The little female frowned in concentration. “I want my mahmen to stop crying. She tries to pretend she doesn’t, but ever since I…fell down the stairs she’s been sad.”

Marissa swallowed, knowing full well the child hadn’t broken her leg like that. “I think that’s fine. I’ll write that down.”

Using the intricate characters of the Old Language, she penned in red ink: If it would not offend, I would be grateful for my mahmen’s happiness.

“There. How is it?”

“Perfect!”

“Now we fold it and leave it. Perhaps the Scribe Virgin will reply to you while you are in the operating—the green room.”

The child hugged her tiger closer. “I would like that.”

As a nurse came in, Marissa stood up. In a rush of heat, she felt a near-violent urge to protect the young, to shield her from what had happened at her home and what was about to happen in the OR.

Instead, Marissa looked at the mother. “This is going to be fine.”

When she went over and put her hand on a thin shoulder, the mother shuddered, then gripped Marissa’s palm hard.

“Tell me he can’t get in here,” the female said in a low voice. “If he finds us, he’ll kill us.”

Marissa whispered, “No one can get into the elevator without identifying themselves in front of a camera. The two of you are safe. I swear to it.”

When the female nodded, Marissa left so that the young could be sedated.

Outside the patient room, she leaned against the hallway wall and felt more heaving rage. The fact that those two were bearing the pain of a male’s violent temper was enough to make her want to learn how to shoot a gun.

And God, she couldn’t imagine setting that female and her young loose in the world because surely that hellren would find them when they left the clinic. Although most males put their mates higher than themselves, there had always been among the race a minority of abusers and the realities of domestic violence were ugly and far-reaching.

A door shutting to the left brought her head up, and she saw Havers come walking down the hall, his head buried in a patient chart. Odd…his shoes were covered with little yellow plastic booties, the kind he always put on when he donned a hazmat suit.

“Have you been in the lab again, brother mine?” she asked.

His eyes shot up from the chart and he pushed his horn-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. His jaunty red bow tie was cocked at a bad angle. “Come again?”