Kiss Me, Curse Me - By Kate Shay Page 0,5

a few minutes to go get her a drink. She seemed . . . off, or something, but . . . I’m not sure.”

“We’ll find her.”

Patty locked the door to his perfect little house with the brand-new, white picket fence. It was his pride. He’d worked his way up to that life, which was stable, except for his daughter. He was still working on her, had been for years.

***

“Well . . . what do we have here?” Doc’s voice was just as frail as his movements. He shuffled closer to Coreen, who was now unconscious. “This pretty little lady is in need of my services I can see. She’s very pale and . . .” he lifted her wrist, “she has a very weak pulse. The leg, I presume.”

Ahanu just nodded, taking note of the doctor’s underlying bad odor.

Blood oozed down Coreen’s calf as Doc carefully unraveled the tan, bloodied shirt wrapped around the wound. He examined the six-inch-long, deep cut, which by now had a redness spreading from all angles of it.

“It’s a good thing you called for me.” His voice changed from interested to serious. “You can assist me,” he said, nodding at Ahanu.

Unzipping his bulky black bag, the doctor placed a tourniquet around her thigh above the wound, then set out various bottles of antiseptics, numbing solutions and clean rags. He washed his hands and doused her leg in alcohol, cleaning the skin out from the wound.

“I want you to hold her down. She’s already out but could wake in the middle of this. I don’t want to give her a sedative considering her unconsciousness.”

Ahanu took hold of Coreen’s legs, cringing at the thought of what he knew was coming. He’d regrettably assisted in something dire like this before. He tried to push aside the thought of his sister but had a hard time.

Betty held Coreen’s arms without being asked.

“Okay . . . ready.” Doc inserted the needle without much of a peep from the girl. “Not good.”

“What . . . what does it mean?” Ahanu said, feeling the fear creep up on him.

“She’s lost a lot of blood. When did this happen?” The old man continued sewing fine stitches with his steady hand, an astounding feat considering most of his body waggled in some form or another. “It’s only been an hour or so,” said Ahanu.

“She’s severed a deep vein here. I need my crile please, the tool with the teeth. I need to repair this or the bleeding will continue.”

Betty and Ahanu watched as he repaired the severed vessel, spun the threads, cut and tied, until he wrapped the last bandage securely around Coreen’s thin, damaged leg and examined the girl’s face. Her expression was blank. The doctor paused and took her small hand from Betty, holding it for a long minute. He felt her pulse again on her wrist, then felt her forehead with the back of his hand.

He paced the room for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry to say this so bluntly, but . . . tonight could be her last. I don’t want any misconceptions here about my abilities. What is your name?” Doc looked the young man directly in the eye.

“Ahanu . . .” He covered his face with a shaky hand. “I mean Daniel.”

“Ahanu, stay by her side. I’ll be near. We need to watch for infection, as this is why she’s sleeping so deeply. Just the blood loss couldn’t have caused her full change in mental state. Whatever she touched had something on it. Could have been anything really . . . a fungus, germs; did you notice anything else?”

“A wolf.”

“A wolf?” He stopped packing his bag to face Ahanu again.

“He was there when I found her, but I don’t think they came in contact. I heard his howl. It was so loud. It was—”

“Odd . . .” Doc’s voice trailed off, and he took a seat in the plush, pink vanity chair, rubbing a hand over his weathered, stubbly face. “I’ve heard this before.”

Betty moved away from the girl’s head and stood facing Doc, uncomfortable, crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”

“Her spirit has left. I can feel it,” said Doc. “Her heart pumps. It’s keeping up, but not for long.”

“Her spirit . . .” Ahanu couldn’t look at the old man . . . he could feel it too—the underlying lack of something about Coreen as she lay there. She’d always had this life about her, this spark in her eye. The echo of her voice