Nodding, Kieran dashed a few tears from his eyes, before picking up the blankets. “C’mon, according to our spirit, the first Nessie is almost ready to hatch.”
~/~/~/~/~
“This one’s been shot too,” the paramedic shouted out as he rushed into the cell. Kneeling down next to the unconscious figure, he got a good sniff of the man’s scent. “Oh shit! He’s human,” he muttered, as he began to work quickly to stem the flow of blood spurting from the wound in the man’s chest. Pressing down on the spot with one hand, he picked up a small packet with the other, using his teeth to tear it open before pouring the contents of it into the bloody opening and then piling a handful of gauze over it. Placing both hands on the wound, he pressed down hard, hoping the coagulant he used would work on a human.
When the top layer of gauze turned red, the paramedic realized the remedy that usually worked well on shifters wasn’t doing what he’d hoped it would on the human. Lifting his hands, he peeled back the covering and was greeted by a spurt of fresh blood. Getting desperate, he yelled for his more experienced supervisor. “What the hell is a human doing in a High Council prison anyway?” he muttered to himself.
Replacing the blood-soaked gauze with fresh pads, the paramedic kept pressure on the wound with one hand while searching in his bag for anything that would help slow his patient’s bleeding.
“Mama…mama…don’t go…I’ll be good…”
The human’s voice was so low, the paramedic might never have heard it if not for the acute hearing abilities of his animal. Bending down over the man, he said, “Hey…you’re gonna be all right…can you tell me your name?”
“Don’t go…no…no…”
“I’m not going anywhere. My name is Dale…what’s yours?”
“Dale…”
“That’s right…I’m Dale…what’s your name?”
“Dale…I need…please…hurts.”
“I know it does.” Turning back to his medical bag, he dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through the pile until he found what he was looking for. Removing the cap of the needle with his teeth, he plunged it into his patient’s thigh, pushing down on the plunger until the barrel of the syringe was empty.
“There…you’re gonna feel better in a moment,” Dale said, checking the wound once more. But when it continued to ooze, he knew he was losing his patient. Leaning down, he ordered, “Stay with me…you hear me? STAY WITH ME!”
Before he could do anything else, a flash of blinding light appeared and, when he could once again see, the human had disappeared, leaving only a pool of blood on the floor.
“What the hell?” the paramedic muttered, falling back on his heels.
“You got another gunshot victim?” asked his supervisor, rushing into the prison cell.
“Not anymore,” the paramedic replied, looking around the room. “I was treating him…then there was this bright light and when I could see again…he was gone!”
“Forget him! Your partner needs help. Go find him.”
Nodding, the paramedic shoved everything back into his bag and left.
Checking a list on his clipboard, the supervisor searched until he found the prisoner’s name who’d been in the cell. Circling it, he made a brief notation about what had happened and then left. There were too many others requiring medical attention and besides, it wasn’t his job to track down escaped prisoners.
Chapter 20
With the man’s life hanging by a thread, Mystia knew there was no time to waste and, in another flash of light, she and Jimmy appeared in front of Colton’s desk.
Looking up, it took only a second for Colton to leap to his feet and take the bleeding man out of Jimmy’s arms. Glancing at Mystia, he asked, “Who’s this and why did you bring him here?”
Before answering Colton, Mystia turned to her husband. “Jimmy, please go get Jackson.” Then, looking at Colton, she said, “He’s Cain Foster…and he’s been shot…he needs help because he doesn’t have much time left.”
Ignoring all the other questions swirling around in his mind, Colton carried Cain into the operating room, calling over his shoulder, “Go get Ian and Mac, stat!” Setting the bleeding man down on the operating table, he picked up a pair of scissors and began to cut off his bloody clothes. Once they were removed, Colton examined the wound.Shit, this isn’t good.
The door banged open against the wall as Mac strode into the operating room. “What do we have?”
“Human…in his twenties, I think…bullet wound right above his heart…no exit wound…bleeding profusely…low blood pressure…faint heartbeat…breathing with difficulty,” Colton replied, as he began to hook the patient up to different monitors.
Ian had heard Colton’s assessment as he entered the room and immediately took charge. Within minutes, he and Mac were dressed in scrubs, standing on either side of the operating table. “Ready, Mac?” he asked.
“Yes…but I’ve never operated on a human before.”
