I raised a brow at Sagitta, and he took the lead.
“It’s me,” he called.
The voice grunted. “What d’you want so early?”
“I require your services,” Sagitta said curtly. “Why else would I be here?”
I was shocked to hear him talk so rudely to a doctor, but when the door flew open, I immediately understood why. The scruffy man in a lab coat wasn’t the first thing I imagined when I thought of a noble physician. His shaggy brown hair, dusted with grays, was half-flattened from being slept on, and his jaw was obscured by a half a week’s worth of stubble.
But I tried not to be too judgmental. We all looked rough when we first woke up.
The doctor squinted at Sagitta in my arms. “The hell’s this? You break a leg, Sangkaew?”
“I may as well have,” Sagitta replied, sounding ashamed of himself. “An imp bit me.”
The doctor grunted, then rubbed his temple like he had a headache. His hand groped around his desk. It bypassed a pack of cigarettes and grabbed a mug on his desk. He threw back a swig of what smelled like day-old coffee.
“You. Hoodie. Put him there.”
The doc pointed at the tidy patient bed on the other side of the room. The man looked like he’d just woken up, and he obviously hadn’t slept in that bed. Had he fallen asleep at his desk?
“Um, okay.” As I carried Sagitta to the bed, I whispered, “What’s with him?”
Sagitta sounded tired. “Hartford is just like that.”
“Is he, like, safe?”
“Yes,” Sagitta said firmly. “Don’t mind his appearance. He’s one of our highest ranked exorcists, and you won’t find a better supernatural healer.”
That surprised me, because Hartford didn’t look like an important guy. And, except for the lab coat, he didn’t resemble a doctor, either.
But I trusted Sagitta’s judgment. “Okay,” I said. Then in a lower whisper, I added, “You know, it’s not too late to take you to arealhospital—”
“I heard that, punk,” Hartford suddenly growled behind me. I jumped as he shouldered past me to examine Sagitta.
I frowned at being unceremoniously pushed aside, but I held my tongue. All I cared about was Sagitta’s safety. If that meant tolerating this rude doctor for a while, that was fine by me.
Hartford examined the wound. He grunted, then fetched a pair of shears to cut away the fabric surrounding the injury.
“You’re not usually so careless. What happened?” he asked brusquely.
“Imp in Chase’s apartment. Didn’t have my weapon on me,” Sagitta explained in a strained voice.
Hartford raised a bushy brow at the imp comment, then clicked his tongue. “Rookie mistake.”
Sagitta grimaced but didn’t argue. I got annoyed on his behalf.
“Cygnet told me you’re staying at hoodie’s place to keep an eye on him,” Hartford said as he poured clear liquid on a cotton pad. I expected it to reek of rubbing alcohol, but it smelled weirdly sweet instead, like honey.
“That’s right,” Sagitta confirmed.
“What’s the deal? Must be serious if you went home with him,” Hartford went on, like I wasn’t in the room. “Incubus? One of the Ars Goetia motherfuckers?”
Sagitta continued to grimace, but I didn’t think it was from the pain.
Haltingly, he said, “It’s... Faust.”
Hartford was about to wipe the cotton pad over Sagitta’s wound, but upon hearing the name, he stopped. Only for a second, but I noticed it.
