259
Peter
The cityscape blurred outside the car window as Vasil navigated the bustling streets. I leaned back, trying to shake off the tension that seemed to have settled into my shoulders. The investigation into the stolen spear from the museum had hit a frustrating standstill, and Vasil's impatience was palpable.
It made the drive to Yellow Ridge Hospital was filled with a tense silence. Vasil's frustration was palpable, and I couldn't blame him. There were no further leads about where Oren could have taken it and nothing more to go on. The Council wouldn't stand against Oren if they didn't have to. It would be best if we had a means by which to steal it back. I needed rest, but my questions about the Moon Wars and the upcoming Festival didn't afford me the luxury of sitting back and letting others handle it.
As we grew closer to the hospital's parking lot, Vasil shot me a sideways glance.
"You think you can manage a bit more rest?"
"Sleeping isn't doing me any favors."
Vasil scoffed. "How would you know? You haven't been trying it."
I sighed. "I can't, and you know why. It's not just the spear or my potential link to it. It's..."
Everything.
"I get it. I still wish you'd sleep." I laughed as Vasil parked the car. "With any luck, this healer will support my case."
I chuckled, but I doubted it as I looked up at the front of the hospital.
"Another check-up," I mused, the frustration I felt was barely held back. "Seems like all I can do, and no closer to an answer."
The ongoing health checks were necessary, but they weren't giving me any hope about my future with Michelle. It felt as though every check was just going to tell me that I was getting closer and closer to death.
"It's odd to feel so… defeated already."
Vasil parked the car and sighed. "We can't..."
He shook his head. "Why don't you focus on your next date?"
I smiled at that. "How motivating."
I got out of the car and headed inside. The familiar scent of antiseptic and potions hit me as we entered the hospital. I could hear the rhythm of people hustling around, trying to check on patients and save lives. Yellow Ridge was a good hospital. I made sure they were well funded, but coming here had stopped being a source of pride and assurance that I was doing what should be done. I wasn't here as an alpha or a benefactor of the hospital--just another patient.
I winced at the dramatic turn my thoughts were taking. It wasn't like me to mope.
I checked in at the front desk, and we were directed to the healer's office. I had been transferred to another healer. Dr. Mitchell, a seasoned healer with a penchant for dry humor, greeted us. It was almost a relief to have a healer I knew wouldn't try to sugarcoat the truth or comfort me.
"I thought you got fired for your lack of bedside manner," Vasil joked.
"Not in this lifetime." Dr. Mitchell grinned. "Vasil, Peter, good to see you again. Vasil, I assume you're here for emotional support?"
Vasil smirked. "More like to ensure Peter doesn't start flipping tables if he hears no progress."
Dr. Mitchell chuckled. "Understandable. Let's get you checked, Peter."
The examination was routine. The healer checked my vitals and the progress of my recovery. I could feel Vasil's impatience radiating as Dr. Mitchell reviewed my medical charts. As much as I wanted to think that his silence was a good thing, I couldn't manage to.
"Well, you're not worse." I snorted. "You're not healing the way I would expect, but I think there is a chance for that to be reversed."
He turned and went to the cabinet. "Part of the reason you were transferred is because your case resembles a few diseases that I have experience with treating with a combination of potions and techniques. First, have you gotten your lineage test done?"
I shook my head.
"We'll get it done before you leave. Second, are you wearing a limiter or restraint?"
I shook my head again.
"Good. I'll get clear readings." He sighed. "Now, I understand the frustration with the lack of progress with your health, and your investigation is weighing on you, so we're doing a bit of a short-term fix and check today."
Vasil let out a sigh. "Experitmental?"
"Correct," he said. "I can tell you that there has been a bit of chatter among healers. Apparently, Oren has been looking for a new healer for his pack."
"Makes sense. The Bluescales hate Oren. Have you heard him getting any traction?"
"No." He smiled. "Probably because he can't afford to pay them."
Vasil laughed, and I smiled. "So the sons were the brains of the operation. Shame."
Dr. Mitchell shrugged. "Possibly. Now, if you'd lay back and take these."
He offered me two vials. Blue then gold."
I lay back and drank them both as he asked. Then, he was waving something over me.
I closed my eyes and heard the wind of some distant place. I could hear it rushing in my ears as if I was flying. Something cawed in the distance, and I heard the rumble of thunder. Something zipped through me like static shock just as I opened my eyes.
Dr. Mitchell grinned. "How do you feel?"
I blinked. "Some of the pain is... less."
A lot less. Almost scarily less. He scanned me again and grinned. Then, he showed me an image covered in dark red.
"This is you when you came in." He swiped across the screen, and the image changed. There was a lot less red. It was lighter, where it had been incredibly dark. "This is you now."
I blinked andr sat up. "What..."
"The werewolf virus is a communicable, magical disease. While it's taken some time to really study it because werewolves tend not to come out of their packs much, we've gotten pretty far." He smiled. "And I made it a point to study it as much as I can."
"Why?"
His lips twitched. "My sister was infected, and it's changed her completely. I'd like to cure it one day, so believe me when I say that I'm going to do what I can to keep you alive until I can."
He prescribed me a regimen of potions to take and made notes about the restrictors I had to wear, but I felt better than I had in a long time.
"Seems like there's a better chance than I'd hoped," Vasil said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Maybe after this, I could take you to grab dinner somewhere," Vasil suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. "Perhaps an arranged rendezvous with a certain someone?"
I grinned at the thought. The prospect of a date with Michelle was nice, a welcome distraction.
"That sounds like a plan," I replied, a faint smile playing on my lips.
As we left the hospital room and headed back to the front, I breathed easier. Vasil's frustration had morphed into a determined focus.
"Looking for a healer now? He could be injured, or someone in his employ is."
"Maybe. Look into it if you can."
"You think Michelle would be up for Italian?"
I smiled and nodded. "I think she'd love it."
I pulled out my phone to message her, yet as I prepared to do so, I stopped, stunned by the sight I couldn't believe.
"What is it?" Vasil asked.
"I think I may have figured out why Oren may be looking for a healer so adamantly."
After all, what wouldn't Oren do for one of his precious sons?
Vasil stepped forward, and I held up my hand to stop him, shaking my head.
"Let's just observe for now."
I scanned the floor. People seemed to recognize him, but they didn't seem wary, and that was interesting.
Especially when he looked like he was on the edge of passing out.
Vasil and I slipped down the hallway and into the waiting room without Matt noticing us. I watched from a distance as Matt fidgeted near the reception desk, his demeanor far from the composed self I was used to. He was clad in a hoodie. The shadow of the hood obscured enough of his face that I could be mistaken if I couldn't smell him. The little rush of hope that came with more of my heightened senses returning died quickly.
There was something off about him. Really off. His usual easy confidence was replaced by a skittish restlessness.
Curiosity and concern mingled within me as I approached, keeping a wary distance. This was my territory. Blue Moon had never held us any goodwill, but it didn't seem like he was here to cause trouble, yet why was he lurking in my pack hospital?
He shuffled his feet, holding back and seemingly unsure. He seemed about ready to bolt when the person in front of him stepped aside.
"Mr. Ashgrave!"
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