Page 152 of Fangs
“Sorry, Ember,” Sable said. “I thought it might be easier for you to heal him than for me to splint his arm.”
“No, that’s fine,” I said, still raspy with sleep.
All the bedrolls were put away. It looked like it was past breakfast. Had I slept that late?
I gestured at Smith to sit in the chair while I washed up at the sink. The ice-cold water on my face helped wake me up. When I returned to where Smith sat in the chair, I hesitated at his side, my eyes scanning his arm.
“I’ll have to set the bone before I can heal it,” I told him, trying to keep my expression even as he stared at me. “It will hurt.”
“Alright,” he muttered.
I pulled over the little rolling table that fit over the exam chair. “Can you put your arm here?”
He grunted in pain but managed to get his arm onto the table. I steadied myself and carefully put my hands on his arm, my powers tingling in my fingertips, and moved his arm as quickly as I dared. He swore through his teeth, gripping the arm of the chair with his good hand. When my powers felt the bone line up, they rushed through, mending the bone and healing the injury. He swore under his breath again, but it sounded less pained this time. I let go, and he experimentally lifted his arm and flexed his hand.
“Is there any remaining pain?” I asked.
“No,” he answered gruffly.
“You’re good to go, then.” I returned to the sink and washed my hands, but when I finished, he was still standing by the exam table, watching me. “Did you need anything else?” I asked, trying to keep my unease from my voice.
“I just wanted to say…” he hesitated, shifting on his feet. “I hope you’re… feelin’ better.”
I stared at him, unsure of how to respond. What did he want to hear?Don’t worry, I don’t feel like murdering anyone else?“Um, thanks,” I mumbled.
For a few uncomfortable seconds, he didn’t move, but then he forced a smile, said thanks, and left. I wiped down the exam chair, pretending I didn’t see how Wolf and his crew were studying me.
“What was that about?” Lee asked.
“What?” I didn’t look up from what I was doing.
“Who was that guy?”
“Smith, he’s one of Nemo’s men,” I answered, moving to the sink to wash my rag.
“Does he have a problem with you?” Wolf asked, his voice sharp.
I didn’t turn around. “I don’t know.”
“Ember,” Wolf sounded frustrated, “we’re never gonna find who vandalized the clinic if you don’t tell us what’s goin’ on.”
I shut the water off and attempted to wring every tiny drop of water out of the rag, stalling. My stomach flipped uneasily at the realization that Wolf had made it his mission to find whoever vandalized the clinic. He rarely failed when he focused on finding someone, and he’d only gotten better if the stories were true.“I don’t think it was Smith.”
“Why was that whole exchange so weird, then?” Lee demanded.
I took a breath, feeling tendrils of shame creep in, but I forced myself to turn around and meet six pairs of narrowed eyes. “Because he found me in Madame’s cell after I killed her.”
“But you don’t think he wrote ’murderer’ on your wall?” Wolf’s eyebrow raised.
Because you clearly are one,my brain filled in for him. I tried to breathe evenly, to keep the pain and guilt from my face, as I turned to hang my rag up to dry. “No.”
The silence thickened, and I studied the clinic, trying to find something to do to keep my hands busy. Wolf’s crew did more cleaning than I expected, which was helpful but also annoying when I desperately needed something to do. Vulture’s crew hadn’t cleaned a damn thing.
I swallowed hard, pushing down the memory of the manacle around my ankle.
“Mac came by earlier, but we didn’t want to wake you. He said they’re busy tryin’ to get a hold of their contacts from Angel City on the radio.” He huffed a humorless laugh. “I told him good luck.”
I glanced at him, wondering if I was supposed to know what that meant, “Why?”
