P N Elrod-The Vampire Files 01 by Bloodlist

Author:Bloodlist [Bloodlist]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-10-09T17:57:08+00:00

Chapter 7

DR. CLARSON WAS a small man with large brown hands that at first glance didn't look dexterous enough for the work they were doing. His tightly curling hair was cut close to the scalp. He was about fifty, but the gray at the sides made him seem older. His movements were economical, and if he had any opinions about patching up a white man in his tiny examining room at two o'clock on a Monday morning, he kept them professionally to himself.

Escott was out cold again on the exam table. The room was too small for anyone else but him and the doctor, so Shoe Cold-field and I had to be content to cool our heels in the waiting room outside. There were six old wooden chairs, each as scarred as the matching floor, a small table that must have served the receptionist as a desk, and some ancient file cabinets, also of wood. The place was very clean, though, and smelled sharply of antiseptic. Shoe looked worried, but not overly anxious. However shabby the place was, he had trust in Clarson's medical skills.

I was restless and wanted to pace, but held it in check, trying to follow Shoe's example of patience. He sat quite still on one of the chairs, his eyes straying to the doctor and Escott, alert in case he was needed. All I could do was fidget around on my perch on the table and try not to look at the smears of blood we left decorating the floor when we brought Escott in. Bloody damn had been right, my hands and clothes were covered with the stuff. From literature I'd read in the past on the subject of blood and vampires, I should have been feeling something other than sick horror.

The blood on my hands got sticky, and I asked if there was a washroom nearby.

Shoe glanced up and led the way out to one down the hall. We cleaned up as best we could, but our clothes would be the laundry's problem.

Things hadn't changed at the office. We sat down again. I chewed on a nail, a habit I hadn't fallen into since I was a kid. It tasted lousy, so I forced my hand down with the other and kept still. I looked at Coldfield and wondered why he hadn't asked for explanations, as he was certainly entitled to do, but then I hadn't volunteered any. I looked at Clarson's back and wondered what was taking so long and if we should call an ambulance.

I had eased Escott down on the seat, pulled out a handkerchief, and pressed it against his side. It soaked through in what seemed like an instant, but I could see now that my reckoning of time had been distorted by fear. With his head level with his heart, he came to after a moment and said something unintelligible, then clearly said my name.

'I'm right here. I'll get you to a hospital if I can find one."

"No. Find Shoe… closer.

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