Mild alarm turns into outright fear as Sorren sways, then drops to his knees with a heavythump. I don’t know what makes me rush to his side. Teacher instinct, probably. That ingrained desire to help.
I kneel beside him, my hand settling on his shoulder. His skin feels like regular skin, but cold and clammy.
“I was injured in battle,” he says, dragging in a breath as his eyes flutter. “When I escaped through the portal.”
He points weakly toward his back.
I shift so I can see and let out a gasp. My hand flies to my mouth. There, on Sorren’s right flank, is a long, jagged slash. The edges of the skin are slightly blackened, like he’d been struck by lightning. Blood runs freely, a steady river down his back and the backs of his legs.
I glance toward the closet where he hid and see the faint trail of bloody footprints leading from the door to where he now kneels.
Oh.
Oh no.
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
Sorren grabs my arm, not hard but desperate.
“Please.” The word is soft, but his grip on my wrist is surprisingly firm. “You must not.”
“You’re bleeding everywhere,” I tell him. “You need stitches. Or…something. Antibiotics. A tetanus shot. I don’t know.”
“No human healer can treat this wound,” he says, voice tight with pain. “Their tools would only make it worse.”
That feels…really unlikely. An excuse?
“You must take me to your dwelling,” he continues. “I require only rest until the bond stabilizes. It will help.”
“The what stabilizes?”
He doesn’t answer. His breathing has grown shallow. For a minute, I think he’s going to pass out. Right here. On my classroom floor.Naked. How would I ever explain that? No one would believe me. I’d lose my job. My reputation.
“We need to get you out of here,” I declare as I stand. I rush around the room, searching for something suitable. The entire time, I’m telling myself…
This is how people end up in documentaries.
This is how women get lured into cults.
This is how you wake up in a bathtub full of ice missing a kidney.
Finally, I remember the lost-and-found bin in the corner of the room. I run over to it. Behind me, Sorren makes a low sound, something caught between a breath and a groan, and my chest tightens. When I glance back, he’s still on his knees where he collapsed, one hand braced on the tile, his shoulders rising and falling in shallow, uneven pulls of air.
Right. Priorities.
I need to get him out of here before he passes out.
If he hits the floor, there’s no way I’m dragging a massive, bleeding, unconscious man through an elementary school by myself. He’ll be a 300-pound liability.
Moving fast, I spin toward the lost-and-found and grab the first thing that looks remotely adult-sized, a bright blue hoodie withREADING IS FUN!splashed across the front in glittery, puffy letters. A cartoon book wearing sunglasses grins up at me. It was left behind after the literacy fair last month.
Perfect.
“Arms,” I command, holding it out as I hurry back toward him.
Sorren looks at the garment like it has personally insulted him. “This is not suitable.”
“You’re naked.”
