Uly was silent the entire drive. Not a peep as I pulled into my driveway and carried him inside, and as someone who was rarely quiet, it was his silence that most worried me. Even more than the blood.
I quickly carried him through to my bedroom and laid him down, uncaring that he was currently bleeding all over my silk sheets. I needed a new bed anyway. Uly sucked in a sharp breath, but otherwise, showed no hint of the pain he must’ve been in. His eyes remained closed. Was he even conscious?
“I’ll be right back. I need bandages,” I said softly as I ran to the bathroom. The only problem? I was a fucking god, and I had no need for first-aid kits. I had no antibiotics or even painkillers. Even knowing this to be true, I found myself tearing open the cabinet in frustration, hoping against hope that I had somehow forgotten buying supplies at some point. No such luck.
I heard someone enter through the front door I’d left open, and I called, “We’re back here.”
A man with salt-and-pepper hair appeared at the end of the hall, carrying a bag I assumed was full of supplies. “Ruadan? I’m Dr. Banner,” he said, his voice calm and confident in the wake of my panic.
“Are you a surgeon?” I asked, leading him into the bedroom, carrying an armload of towels, the closest I’d been able to find to bandages, and dumping them on the foot of the bed. Uly seemed so small where he lay, something rattling inside his chest with each breath.
“Of a sort,” the man said, perching on the edge of the bed beside Uly and opening his bag. “I’m an obstetrician, but it seems I might be the only person qualified to treat a sin-eater.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “My grandfather was one.”
An obstetrician?! He wasn’t giving birth! I was about ready to haul the man away when Lagamal appeared in the bedroom doorway. I’d never seen him so dressed down, in sweats and a tee, his hair mussed without his usual product. One look at me and I saw him register just how close I was to my breaking point. “Let the man do his job,” he said.
I was about to remind him just what the man’s job actually was when my attention was drawn back to the bed. Uly’s eyelids fluttered, and he took a wheezing breath, and I moved gently across the mattress to his side, opposite the doctor. Uly blinked a few times then struggledto sit up. “Don’t move,” the doctor scolded lightly, nudging him back onto the mattress. “I need to get a look at your injuries.”
Dr. Banner pinched the hem of his shirt between his fingers and brought up a pair of scissors, cutting it straight up the middle.
“Hey! I liked that shirt,” Uly slurred, reaching to slap the doctor way.
I caught his hand in mine and held it tight. “I’ll buy you a new one,” I snapped, taking out my frayed nerves on him. Now was not the time to worry about clothes. Not when his blood was still leaking from his body.
I felt sick at the sight of him. There were four gouges down the side of his chest, where the demon had dug its human fingers into him with impossible strength, but the bleeding had thankfully slowed. And judging by his pained breathing, he’d probably broken a few ribs too. There were already bruises rising in angry purple blooms across his pale skin.
The doctor didn’t seem as concerned about the injuries as I thought he should. “A few stitches should be enough. Sin-eaters are more resilient than humans. Has he been eating enough?” he asked as he pulled a suture kit out of his bag.
I frowned, thinking back. “It’s been a few hours since we had dinner but—”
“No, I mean sins. Has he performed a purge recently?” He glanced at me, but when I couldn’t answer, he turned to Uly, who was still blinking blearily. “When did you last eat?”
“Five days?” He didn’t sound sure, but the doctor seemed satisfied with the answer.
“He’ll be okay.” He snapped on some gloves then went about cleaning the wound, then administered some lidocaine before he pulled the sides of the wounds together and began to sew.
Uly’s eyes drifted over to where Lagamal stood, overseeing the proceedings in his usual stern manner. “Who are you?” he mumbled.
“I’m Mal, a friend of Rue’s.” I couldn’t quite decipher what he was thinking as he looked from Uly to me, but I had a feeling he saw more than he let on.
“Friend,” Uly said with a scoff. “You’re too hot to be just a friend.” He didn’t know what he was saying, but we would be having a conversation about it soon enough. He tried to pull his hand from mine, but I refused to let go.
I frowned over at Lagamal. “You should go. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry to wake you.”
He waved me off. “You know I’m always here for you, and your…friend.” He speared me with a look, putting emphasis on the last word. Oh yes, he knew exactly what Uly was to me.
The doctor finished stitching him up but assured me he would heal quickly, even faster if he could fit in another purge.
The house seemed too quiet in the wake of all the activity. Uly was still half awake as I perched on the edge of the bed and dipped a towel into the bowl of water, wringing it out. “You were incredibly lucky today, sin-eater,” I said tightly. I carefully wiped at the blood smeared over his torso.
He let out a pained sigh but managed to dredge up something that came close to a smile. “I’m fine. I’m a sin-eater, after all. I’ve had worse.”
“Strangely enough, that doesn’t make me feel better,” I grumbled sarcastically.
Anger licked at my insides as I fought to keep my touch gentle, even as I wanted to grab Uly by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “What on earth were you thinking?” I hissed through clenchedteeth. “You should have waited for me. Stopping that demon was not worth your life.”
The mere thought of losing him kindled that spark of irritation into a roaring inferno. The possibility of never hearing his laugh again, of his warmth cooling, his scent fading. There would be no more games of I Spy, no more thinly veiled innuendos or sassy winks. The world without Ulysses Teresi would be a darker place, a world I had no interest in living in.
A crease formed between his brows as he stared up at me, watching me tend to him. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, and despite his centuries, he sounded so young in that moment, so vulnerable.
