Blood of a Werewolf (6 page)

“Okay, now put the other glove on and get a good grip on the arrow tip and shaft sticking out of his back. We don’t want you going into anaphylactic shock from the wood. Have you got a hold of the arrow?” she asked Blake.
 
He nodded.
 

“All right.
 
I’ve got him steady between my legs and I will hold his shoulders.
 
You pull the arrow as straight as you can – on three.”
 
She knew this was going to hurt Devon, but she hoped he would understand that this was the only way she knew to help him.
   

She looked at Blake. “Okay, deep breath.” They both inhaled then exhaled. “One, two, three!”
 

Blake pulled the arrow out with next to no effort, like a toothpick out of a piece of fruit – fluid and quick.
 

Devon howled with pain and passed out.
 

“It’s okay, Blake.
 
He’s passed out from the pain.
 
I can take care of him from here.
 
Now you go do what needs to be done with the Van Helsing guy.”
 

“Who?” Again he looked puzzled.
 

She was starting to wonder if this was just a normal look for him. “Van Helsing guy – The Crossbow Guy across the street.
 
Come on now, you saw him. Black hat, black leather duster, crossbow, classic Van Helsing look.” She rolled her eyes at having to explain.
 

Finally he nodded in acknowledgement.
 
He started to leave the bedroom when she asked, “Oh, and can you bring back a change of clothes for your brother?”
 
He gave her a sly and devilish look, which she refused to even acknowledge.
 

Apparently, Blake knew what needed to be done, because he shot out of there like a bullet, shutting the front door behind him.
 

Darby sped to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water and turned the burner on.
 
She headed across the hall to the linen closet and pulled out two towels and two wash cloths.
 
She set these on the bed and went back to the kitchen.
 
She grabbed a large bowl, the kettle, and the first aid kit.
 
Carrying all this, she went back to the bedroom to start to work.
 

I can’t lose him!
she repeated over and over in her head. Then she thought,
good thing I took that CPR/First Aid class last winter.
 
She folded one of the towels, making a small, but very thick pad. She knew it would be uncomfortable, but the weight of his body on the folded up towel on his back would be enough pressure to slow any bleeding down until she could bandage it.
 
She rolled him to his side and rolled him back onto the makeshift compress.
 
She hoped he wasn’t horribly uncomfortable.
 
She poured some hot water in the bowl and wet a washcloth and then began to clean the area around the wound.
 
The more she cleaned, the smaller the wound seemed to get.
 
Impossible
, she thought.
How can that be
? At this point she didn’t think it would be necessary to have stitches.
 
How is that possible?
 

She poured some hydrogen peroxide onto the wound, checked for splinters, covered the wound up with a gauze patch and taped it in place. Next, she rolled him to his side, taking the makeshift compress out from beneath him along with his shirt and proceeded to clean the wound as she had the front.
 
Here, too, the wound seemed smaller than it had been when she had put the compress on.
 
She cleaned it with hot water, checked for splinters, applied some hydrogen peroxide, and attached a gauze patch
.
 
Amazing
, she thought,
the bleeding has almost completely stopped
.
 

She rolled him on his back, trying not to touch his wounds too much. She covered him with the quilt at the foot of the bed after removing his shoes.
 
She looked at his beautiful angel face and turned out the light on the bedside table next to him.
 
She grabbed all the bandage leftovers, the kettle, bowl and towels, and disposed of them in all the proper places.
 
She set the kettle back on the stove, so she could have a cup of tea to settle her nerves.
 
She cleaned the bowl she had used earlier, put some cool water in it, and then grabbed another washcloth out of the linen closet. She set everything on the other nightstand opposite of her patient.
 
With her fingertips, she lightly brushed some stray hairs off of his face and applied the clean, cool washcloth to his forehead.
 

Harry jumped up on the bed.
 
She panicked, thinking Harry would do his ‘I want to be fed’ chest dance, but he seemed to know the seriousness of the situation and snuggled up against Devon’s body as if to offer him his warmth.
 

When she went into the kitchen to get some more cool water and make her tea, she decided to fill Harry’s food bowl.
No need in pushing our luck, after all
.
 
She returned to the bedroom and set her tea down on the nightstand.
 
She fluffed and propped up some pillows so that she could sit and read in bed.
 
Before she sat down, she grabbed a small wood chest off the dresser, set it on the bed, and grabbed the book of shadows.
 
She sat down, took a sip of tea, checked her patient, and started thumbing through the ancient tome for something that might help any pain Devon might be feeling.
 

She found a page with a list of stones and their healing capabilities.
 
Combine the stones with specific herbs in a small velvet pouch and the patient should heal rapidly.
 

Perfect.
 
She opened the wooden chest and retrieved a velvet pouch, the stones, and the herbs needed to make the charm.
 
After blessing the already cleansed and charged stones, she arranged them in the pouch along with the herbs and tucked the pouch in Devon’s front pocket.
 
“There,” she said in a whisper, “That should help you rest and heal.”
 

As she sat there, sipping her tea and reading
Vampire Kisses
by Ellen Schreiber, she was aware of every breath he made, every movement, everything.
 
She calmed him when he was restless with the cool washcloth and by running her fingers over his forehead and into his hair, like a mother would do to comfort a sick child.
 

Several hours had passed when Blake came in the back door.
 

He almost got his head conked with the teakettle, but Darby recognized his silhouette before hitting him.
 

“Remind me never to break in here at night,” he said as she lowered the teakettle.
 

“I don’t think that is something that I should ever have to remind you,” she said matter-of-factly.
 
He chuckled.
 

“How’s he doing?”
 

“Too soon to say, however, I didn’t have to give him any stitches as the holes ended up being smaller than I had expected.” She didn’t bother to mention that the wounds seemed to miraculously get smaller.
 
She figured he’d think she was loony.
 
She continued, “No stitches means less chance of infection.
 
But I don’t know for sure that nothing else was hit, so I guess we just wait and see if he gets a fever.
 
Then we worry.
 
He seems to be resting peacefully right now.
 
He was pretty restless at first, but that’s to be expected.
 
Its not everyday Van Helsing guy shoots you with a crossbow. Speaking of Van Helsing guy, now might be a good time to tell me what the heck is going on.”
 

At that moment Blake looked like a little boy – a six foot four inch little boy – innocent, scared, and not knowing what to do without his big brother to advise him.
 
Like his brother, he had gorgeous brown eyes, but not exactly the same color, more milk chocolate brown with amber flecks. They were bright and rather hypnotizing, but there was a wildness there that his brother’s eyes lacked – which was perfectly okay with her.
 

“So out with it,” she demanded.
 

Chapter 3

 
“Hmm, this is not going to be easy,” Blake smiled.
 
His smile, she was sure, broke quite a few hearts.
 
It was precious, comforting, and contagious. His whole face smiled, like nothing he would say could possibly be untrue.
 
Uh huh
, she thought. He shared this smile with his brother and between the two of them, she thought they must leave quite a wake of women behind them.
 

“The thing is, there is a huge part of the story that I think should come from Devon.
 
It should be his choice/burden to give the details about us. But I will try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.”
 

She raised her eyebrows as if agreeing, doubting it would go well. “All right! Who is the Van Helsing guy?”

“His name is Max Porter. He’s a hunter.”
 

“Uh huh! A hunter – that’s vague.
 
A deer hunter? A lion hunter? What?”

“A hunter of a specific kind of person.”

“A person hunter? Yuck!” she said and then, as if a light went on, she continued, “You mean like an assassin? A terrorist with a crossbow?”

He rolled his eyes and grimaced. “Somewhat like an assassin, but for a very, very specific kind of person.”

“This is getting annoying.
 
You mean like a, I don’t know, a bounty hunter? A vampire slayer?” she laughed.

He went white as a sheet. “Yes, very much like that,” he said.

“I see! So this Max was hunting your brother?”

“And me,” he said.

“Yes. So Max is a software engineer slayer?” she joked.

“Well, not exactly, but let’s go with that for the sake of time.”
 

“Okay, Max the Van Helsing wannabe, is a software engineer slayer and came to kill you and your brother, because your software stinks?”

He laughed. ”Yeah, I guess so.”

“So are there more of these software engineer slayers out there?”

“Yes. Not a lot, but enough.”

“And their plan is to take out all software engineers, everywhere?”

He tried to hold a laugh back, ran a hand across his lips, and said, “Yep.”

“So is there a hierarchy of software engineer slayers, or was Max just a rogue?”

“Umm…I don’t know if there is a Grand Pooba of software engineer slayers, but Max was sent by someone above him.
 
His name is Terrence Paine.
 
Max was one of his thugs.”

She shook her head. “Okay, now we are getting somewhere. How many thugs does Pooba Paine employ?”

“Including Max, there are three, including Olaf Obert and Norman Beoff.”
 

“All right! If Max doesn’t check in, then Pooba Paine will send Norman and/or Olaf to find out what happened, right?”

“Probably.”

“If that is the case, how much time do you think we have before the others come looking?”

“Well, my guess is that Max was a scout, and may or may not have told them specifically where he was.
 
If that is the case, then I would estimate a week, maybe two at the most.”

“Hmmm. Your brother won’t be healed by then.” She pursed her lips and thought a minute.

“My sister and I have a cabin about two hours from here. Our parents left it to us.
 
We haven’t been up there since we were kids, but maybe I could take Devon up there and you could stay in this house.
 
That way you could be on the look out for any more software engineer slayers that come knocking next door.
 
That may give us a little more time.
 
Of course, I’d have to contact my sister so that she doesn’t freak out if she comes home and finds some handsome guy has taken over the house. Although somehow I don’t think she would mind meeting you!” She smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think it is a better plan than we have, since we have no plan and my brother is unconscious.”

“True, he can amend it if he wants to when he is better, but for now it will give us some time to figure out what to do.
 
So what is this beef Pooba Paine has against your family – I mean aside from your stinky software?”

His face lit up with a huge smile again – Darby thought it was nice to see him relaxing a bit. “Umm…not exactly sure, but it had something to do with our father.
 
Terrence Paine and his entourage were responsible for the deaths of both our parents.”