I step back.
Shaking his head, Anders says, “His blood loss is minimal, I promise. Has your brother ever passed out from the sight of blood?”
“Like a paper cut? No.”
“Does he have any trauma around a large loss of blood? Say, maybe around the car accident that killed your mother and your father and gave you that scar?”
“Oh,” I say, stopped in my tracks. “Yes.”
“It’s called vasovagal syncope. Happens when something triggers a severe emotional response, and for some people, their trigger is blood,” he explains, his voice measured and absent any of the usual Anders charm.
“Oh,” I repeat dumbly.
“And you just killed two people, which is why your hands are shaking and you’re kind of being an asshole right now. Totally understandable, but not the time. I’m going to ask you to please shove that shit down and put a lock on it so I can take care of your brother. Sound good?”
Fuck, my hands really are shaking pretty badly.
Feeling like I’ve had the air punched out of me, I catch Nacho’s eye. He takes a breath, and I follow him. It doesn’t help.
Anders turns, then spins back around, holding up his finger. “Also? If he weresplit in two, you’d know because you’d be smelling his guts right now. You’d think someone who worked at a hospital would know that.”
Just as he turns around to focus on my brother, there’s a knock on the door. Charlie walks over and opens it, revealing a familiar face.
“Mama Bash?” I ask, so confused, as Hopper bounds past me to wrap her in a sweet hug.
Staring at Charlie, I gesture incredulously at the Mother of Serial Killers standing in the foyer with a black leather bag in her hands.
“It’s okay, Bram. Anja brought Anders his supplies.”
She points at my nearly naked brother. “I was told there was a medical emergency.”
Anders comes over and gives her a bloody half-hug, grabbing the bag from her. “Thanks, Mama.”
Just as the fight goes out of me, Ant bursts through the front door, yelling at Erik.
“Stop following me, you big oaf!” he yells, ineffectively shoving Erik away.
“You just killed a man, Ant. I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Erik responds, unmoved in more ways than one.
Erik looks to Charlie, who holds up a hand, patiently shaking his head.
“He deserved to die! Did you see those women? These assholes were treating them like a puppy mill, Erik!” Ant shouts, getting wound up all over again.
“I know, buddy, that’s why we do what we do. But you can’t just come in and randomly kill someone. What if he’d been an ally?” Erik asks, grabbing his shoulder.
Ant yanks away from him. “It wasn’t random, and he wasn’t an ally! He had his gun to the back of your head! Should I have let him kill you?”
Erik’s eyes go wide. “He did?”
“Yes, you fucking nopal!” Ant yells, whacking Erik’s arm. Cursing, he pulls his hand back, wincing.
“Shit, are you okay? Also…did you just call me a cactus?”
Ant turns away from him. “No, idiot! I called you anopal. A bigfoot!”
Hopper snorts, and I wonder if this isn’t some elaborate stress dream.
“Well, shit, buddy.” Erik looks to Charlie, who nods. Ant really did save his life. “I don’t know what to say.”
