Night Wars 02 - The Night Shift by Missouri Dalton

Author:Missouri Dalton [Dalton, Missouri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten: Addicted Bronson arrived in five minutes flat. He rushed into the apartment, nearly bowling me over, and I realized I hadn't buzzed him up. (I was going to have to learn that trick.) He went straight to Simon's side and peeled open his eyes.

"Pupils dilated..." He pressed his head down onto the young man's chest. "Heart rate is slow, but I can hear it beating. Breathing is slow, but not too bad. He hasn't slipped into the death trance."

Thank God for that.

Bronson set down the leather bag he was carrying. "We're going to have to give him a shot of adrenaline; I'll need you to hold him down." He opened up the bag, pulling out an EpiPen thing. "Preloaded, for emergencies." He pulled off the cap, pushed Simon's shirt up and jammed the device into the muscle over his heart, injecting the adrenaline.

I grabbed onto Simon's shoulders as his body jerked up from the couch.

"Next up." Bronson removed a vial of something vivid green. "This should counteract the fairy magic in the Sweet Dreams. We'll pour it down his throat."

"Okay."

Bronson was spared opening Simon's mouth, as it still gaped open. He unstoppered the vial—which smelled strongly of vinegar—and poured the contents down Simon's throat. He pushed the kid's mouth shut, and I held his nose until he swallowed.

"Now what?"

"We wait. If he doesn't wake up in the next ten minutes, we'll have to give him more adrenaline and a glucose injection."

I nodded. "He's going to be okay, though?"

"I'm not sure what the combination of the drugs will do, to be honest. Sweet Dreams users usually don't mix and match pills." Bronson sighed, panting slightly and taking a seat on the coffee table to watch Simon. "What do you want to do when he wakes up?"

"I—we'll move him in here. He'll stay with me and Jack where we can keep an eye on him. If he refuses we can always send him to rehab."

"If they find out he took Sweet Dreams, he'll be booted out, Fynn," Bronson said. "That's not just possession of an illegal substance, it's misuse of a magic device. You don't get second chances."

"I know."

"I know you like the kid, but—"

"No buts, Bronson. He's been through hell. He's young and stupid, but he needs this job almost as much as we need him at the division. He'll be a great detective."

"As much as I hate to admit it." Jack stepped into the room, hair dripping. "I agree with Fynn about this. Simon is smart, never mind his talent. And he's nineteen; kids make mistakes, Bron."

"You'll take responsibility for him?" The question was directed at both me and Jack.

"Yes," I said.

Jack nodded. "I will."

"All right then. What happened here will stay between us then." Bronson looked back to Simon. "But if he backslides..."

"I understand," I said.

"Good."

Simon lay still for seven minutes before he jerked up. Bronson was quick, pulling something else out of his bag— another syringe full of clear liquid—and injected it into Simon's arm while I held him still.

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