Damned Souls and a Sangria by Annette Marie

Author:Annette Marie [Marie, Annette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988153520
Amazon: B08C2GSQW9
Publisher: Dark Owl Fantasy Inc.
Published: 2020-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I knelt on the floor with both hands wrapped around Ezra’s. Crouched opposite me, Zak dribbled a gray potion into the puncture wounds in Ezra’s stomach. The druid had elevated Ezra’s legs, thrown his jacket over the mage’s lower body to keep him warm, and fed him three potions—but Zak was neither a true healer nor a surgeon.

All he could do was try to keep Ezra alive as long as possible.

My limbs rigid, I watched Ezra’s chest rise and fall with short, rapid breaths. He was conscious, but his stare was frighteningly blank and I wasn’t sure if he knew I was beside him.

I clutched his hand tighter. “Hold on, Ezra.”

Bang.

I jerked around. The small back door to the warehouse bounced off the wall, and a man swept through the threshold. Tall, fit, salt-and-pepper hair, piercing gray eyes. Darius gave the room a brief, assessing look, then strode toward us. On his heels, two mythics hurried inside, both carrying large fluorescent-orange cases.

Elisabetta and Miles, our guild’s healers.

Leaping up, I backed away to make space, and Elisabetta knelt in my spot. Miles, a well-built man with a shaved head who looked like he should be crushing rogues on a combat team, crouched beside her and unzipped his case to reveal bundles of medical supplies and Arcana paraphernalia.

“Five puncture wounds to the abdomen,” Elisabetta observed brusquely as she took hold of Ezra’s wrist, feeling for his pulse. “His lips are cyanotic. No radial pulse. Miles, prep an IV while I get him on oxygen. You, keep pressure on the wound.”

The second order was fired at Zak, and he pressed both hands to the punctures in Ezra’s stomach while Miles dug into his case. Elisabetta opened hers and pulled out a zippered bag. In it was a lunchbox-sized device with a mini oxygen canister. She strapped the plastic mask to Ezra’s face and turned a knob on the device.

“How’s that IV coming, Miles?” she asked as she clipped a small electronic gadget to Ezra’s finger. “His O2 sats are”—she peered at the gadget—“eighty-nine percent.”

“Almost there,” Miles murmured as he prodded Ezra’s forearm, then inserted a needle. “Get a vasoconstriction potion on those punctures.”

“I already did that,” Zak said. “It’ll last another five minutes at most. I also fed him a blood replenisher, blood-loss stabilizer, and high-potency vitality draft.”

Elisabetta looked surprised for less than half a second. “I need to suture these wounds before we begin the healing. Can you assist me so Miles can prep the array?”

“Yes.”

She and Zak gloved up. As Zak wiped a yellowish-orange liquid from Elisabetta’s supplies over Ezra’s stomach, she flipped open a case to reveal rows of shiny surgical tools. I scrunched my eyes shut, fighting a wave of nausea.

A hand settled on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, I found Darius standing beside me. How long had he been there?

He nodded toward the other end of the summoning circle, and I followed his gaze to Eterran’s body, untouched since his death, a pool of dark blood surrounding him.

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