Witches Protection Program by Michael Phillip Cash

Author:Michael Phillip Cash [Cash, Michael Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Feather Publishing
Published: 2015-05-24T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I said, come on,” Alastair urged the younger man.

“I want to go to a hospital.” They stood in the smelly hallway, Wes’s bloody foot leaving a trail of red footprints.

Alastair shook his head. “What are you afraid of? Witches are synonymous with healers. Baby Fat’s practically a surgeon.”

“What do you mean, practically?” Wes roared. “I’m not going in.” He limped after Alastair, who stood firm.

“Shapeshifting witches sometimes release slow-acting hormones that can enter the bloodstream and wreak havoc on a person’s nervous system. It starts with an elevated temperature.”

Wes felt sweat drip from his temple down his warm neck. His body shook with a tremor.

“You’re looking a little flushed there.” Alastair reached up to press his cool hand against Wes’s overheated cheek. He tsked. Wes pulled away. “Listen, conventional medicine doesn’t have a clue…”

“All right, already,” Wes said, giving in. He felt lightheaded. “I don’t know if I trust her.”

“Do you trust me?” Alastair asked, his eyes boring into Wes’s. The younger man looked away.

He was still protesting after Baby Fat had placed his foot on a dishtowel on her lime velvet couch. She ignored his complaints as she poked around the hole oozing blood, which she collected into a porcelain cup. “For later,” she advised Alastair, who nodded sagely. “Nothing like fresh blood.”

“Fresh blood. Alastair, get me out of here!” Wes wailed.

Luna pounced on his chest, walking down to his abused foot to look at the wound. She meowed loudly.

Junie looked up, her bulbous eyes grossly enlarged by the thick glasses she wore.

“I know. It does look Italian,” she commented back.

“Italian, you say?” Alastair bent over to observe.

“Mmm, see the teeth marks? These particular panthers come from the hills over Catanzaro.”

“Catanzaro…I thought they only bred cougars,” Alastair commented.

“Only the old ladies hunting young men in the bars.” Junie laughed. “No, no, this is definitely a panther bite. There’s a coven that roams the area. Nasty women, famous for their hot tempers.”

Wes drifted, despite the conversation. Junie patted his rear, advising him that this was going to sting a bit.

Hot needles stung his foot from toe to ankle as a boiling towel was placed on his abused limb. Wes reared off the couch, only to have strong hands hold him back. A rainbow of colors danced before his closed eyes before they rolled back in his head.

“He’s out,” Alastair told Junie.

“I can tell from his aura,” she replied as she cleaned his wounds. “Better this way.”

“He didn’t want to come. I told him some faradiddle about panther hormones.” Alastair held up a lamp for her to see better.

“Good. It’s more believable than the truth.” Junie sliced open his foot, squeezing out the poison. “A few more hours, and he’d be dead meat.” She stood back, cracking her back, satisfied with her handiwork. Together they removed his shirt, then Junie dabbed the scratches on his shoulders. “Hmmm…nasty piece of work here.” She threw a fuzzy knitted blanket over him.

“How long till he wakes?”

Junie walked back into her tiny kitchen to return holding a lacy curtain of caul fat from a midsize animal.

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