Page 51 of The Shade of Things
Was all of this a trap and we’d been detected?
Stepping out from the cloaking, Eli braced his hand against the trunk and looked up. “Teresa? Is that you?”
I recalled my magic.
“How—how do you know my name?” said a tremulous voice.
“My name is Detective Eli Chu. I was sent to find and rescue you. How badly are you injured?”
“You’re really here for me?”
“Teresa, I’m Miri. We most definitely came to help you.” Trap or not, there was a hurt kid who needed us.
“My ankle hurts and my shoulder is a mess,” Teresa said.
I pulled out the length of rope I’d taken from an unclaimed backpack at the house. “How are you at tying knots?”
“Uh, okay?”
“We’ll take that.” I held out my hand. “Eli, I need your rope as well. This isn’t long enough.”
“You got it.” He dug it out of his pack for me.
I let him tie them together, since his knots would be stronger, then handed Emmett one end. “Can you toss this up high enough for Teresa to catch?”
The golem looked up, then nodded. “I think so.”
“Do it.”
It took a few attempts, but Teresa finally called out that she’d caught it.
There was a tense silence as she gripped the rope between her legs and hissed, but she gamely lowered herself down, using her knees and elbows, since her left upper arm was basically useless.
I didn’t even realize my fingers were buried in Laurent’s fur until Teresa slipped partway down the rope with a cry and he yelped.
“Sorry,” I murmured, unclenching a fistful of fur.
He nudged his head back under my hand. Maybe he desired this connection as much as I did.
That’s what I told myself anyway.
Eli caught Teresa and gingerly helped her to the ground, taking her weight as much as he could because of her puffy right ankle.
She cradled her injured left arm to her body, holding fast to Eli’s hand with her right one.
The petite young woman, number eight, was dirty, the bloodied sleeve of her lightweight hoodie shredded by eagle talons. Her eyes were haunted, sunk into deep purple circles, but there was a determined set to her chin that gave me hope.
What worried me was how fast she was breathing. Her heart rate must have been off the charts.
Turning so only Laurent could see me, I pressed my fingers to my pulse and pointed upward, my eyebrows raised in question.
He nodded.
Eli pulled out the first aid kit while I rinsed her wounds with water. He kept up a steady, soothing murmur, talking Teresa through every step of his first aid triage, reestablishing eye contact when she retreated into shock, and even coaxing a smile out of her.
I’d seen hints of his field medicine and crisis training in action but never to this extent, when it counted so much. I experienced both a thrill of pride that I’d picked such a good man to initially share my life with and be the father of my child and a wistfulness that he and Laurent couldn’t see how alike they were.
After a lot of antibiotic cream and a gauze wrapping for her shoulder (secured with handy-dandy duct tape), along with a tensor bandage on her ankle, which thankfully wasn’t sprained, Teresa felt well enough to drink a bit and eat a protein bar, sharing information with us.
