“How do you know for certain it didn’t?” I asked.
Salem meticulously examined the rest of him. “He’d be dead by now. But we’re not out of the woods yet if the bullet’s still in there.”
Atticus flicked his eyes up to mine. “He was shot? Are you certain neither of you were struck?”
I glanced down at the blood on my once heather-grey blouse, unable to tell. Since there was no pain or obvious holes in my clothing, I shook my head.
“Can you heal him?” I asked.
Atticus flattened his hands on the desk while Salem continued his examination. “When a Vampire’s shot, the bullets work their way out. But that isn’t the case with Shifters. If I give him my blood, it’ll seal the bullet fragment inside.”
Salem studied the wound closely. “That’s fine. We’ll operate and take it out later. Shifting poses a greater threat—it might kill him. But if we don’t control the bleeding immediately, he’ll die.”
“And he won’t mind?” Atticus stroked his chin. “Some people would rather die than consume Vampire blood. Do you know his wishes?”
I rubbed my sore shoulder. “He’s mentioned on a number of occasions that he doesn’t wish to die. Are you going to save him, or shall he bleed to death on your desk?”
With his eyes locked on mine, Atticus bit into his wrist. Then he placed it over Virgil’s open mouth, and blood dripped in a heavy stream. Virgil couldn’t be turned into a Vampire; it didn’t work that way. They could only turn humans or Relics. Even so, there was more involved in the process than just drinking a Vampire’s blood. As I watched the blood trickle into his mouth, I wondered what other effects it might have on Virgil. I’d never seen anything like this before.
The intense look on Atticus’s face unnerved me.
“Vampire blood is sacred,” he said. “Tell no one of this. And never ask me for blood again.”
Virgil sputtered a small cough before gulping what must have been a mouthful of blood.
Atticus retracted his arm and licked his wrist, instantly sealing the wound. “Feeling better, Mr. Nightingale?”
Blood sprayed in the air like a fountain when Virgil coughed again. To my astonishment, the hole in his neck closed. His lethargic movements confirmed that Vampire blood didn’t replenish blood loss; it merely healed his wounds and kept him alive.
Virgil’s head wobbled as he tried to roll onto his side. He smacked his lips and grimaced. “It tastes like I licked a railroad track. What is that?” Growing more lucid, he blinked at his surroundings. “Where am I?”
“You were shot in the neck,” Salem replied matter-of-factly.
I gave him an admonishing look before patting Virgil’s leg. “How are you feeling, honey? Does it hurt?”
He tilted his head to the side and back the other way. “It feels like I pulled a muscle. Wait…” He stared wide-eyed at his bloody chest. “I’m dead! This is it. I missed my chance, and now I’m trapped between worlds without my shirt and hat. I’m a phantom.” Virgil jumped to his feet and toddled around the room while examining the bloody chunks of hair in front of his face. “I’m going to spend eternity looking like a horror show.”
Atticus sat on the corner of his desk and gave Salem an amused look. “Maybe the fragment lodged in his brain. If so, good luck retrieving it.”
Virgil spun around, bloodstains across his shoulder and chest, his hair matted with blood. He pointed at Atticus, eyes wide. “You can see me!”
“You’re not dead,” I assured him. “If you were, we wouldn’t be able to hear you.”
Virgil stumbled toward Atticus, then rested his hands on the Vampire’s shoulders. “Why are you so handsome?”
Ignoring him, Atticus directed his attention to me. “Drinking Vampire blood creates a temporary… connection. Influence is a better word. If he speaks kindly of me, rest assured that it’ll wear off.” Then he locked eyes with Virgil, and a peculiar energy transpired between the two. “You might be getting brain surgery soon. It’s important that you don’t shift until after that happens. For now, you should rest.”
Virgil blinked a few times and then collapsed in the Vampire’s arms. “I want a cookie.”
Instead of returning home,we rode to Milly’s in the back of a catering van. Without knowing if our attackers would still be hunting us and what Breed they were, we remained silent. Tak met us there, and we descended the elevator into Milly’s underground medical facility.
After performing X-rays, she and Salem determined the bullet fragment was lodged in Virgil’s neck. It was operable, but Milly didn’t give him too much anesthesia.
Salem was experienced in emergency medicine, so between him and Milly, they didn’t need my assistance. I anxiously waited outside in the hall, still rattled from the car chase and shooting. Atticus stayed by my side, and since he could hear everything going on in the room, he kept Tak and me informed.
Once the surgery ended and the bullet was out, Virgil was groggy and uncooperative, so Tak forced him to shift. The meds were slow to wear off. Virgil remained in a stupor while Milly administered a saline drip. Even though Shifters usually bounce back from serious injuries, Milly wanted him on bedrest because of the blood loss. Transfusions weren’t commonplace since our bodies would naturally heal in time.
Atticus drove us home, and Tak left his truck at Milly’s for the night. Tak thought it best if Virgil remained downstairs, so Mercy and Bear gave up their bed, which made it easier to bring Virgil food and monitor him. Because of all the commotion, Bear hadn’t cooked the pack dinner. We’d been home for hours now, and our routine was completely thrown off.
