Page 28 of Warmongers and Wands
“There’s a state emergency helicopter for transporting critical accident victims,” Ophelia said. “Maybe they have a basket thingie?”
“But it’s not really an emergency,” I added. “How much are they going to charge for that? Guys, I don’t think my insurance is going to cover airlifting me off the side of a mountain, and in case you didn’t notice, welders and farriers don’t make the big bucks.”
“We’ll chip in for it,” Cassie replied. “Ophelia’s right. We need to get you somewhere to get checked out, X-rayed, and a cast on that leg. We can’t carry you up the side of the mountain, and we’re certainly not getting a truck down here and back up again. Hell, we barely made it down here. Sylvie bitched the whole time about snagging her pants on briars and rocks.”
“That was you bitching about your pants, Cassie,” Sylvie shot back. “It’s my shoes I was worried about, not my pants.”
“Maybe I should just stay here.” I glanced over at Hadur who was wisely staying out of the way and remaining silent. “Ophelia can get a portable X-ray machine and cast my leg here.”
“And leave you here in the middle of nowhere for the six weeks it takes for your leg to heal?” Ophelia argued.
They all shot quick surreptitious looks at Hadur. I knew what those looks meant. My sisters didn’t like the idea of leaving me alone with him for weeks. A demon. A warmonger. I was hardly the weak flower of the family. I welded. I forged horseshoes. I didn’t give a damn about snagging my pants on thorns or breaking a heel in the woods. But I was their sister, and right now I had a broken leg. That made me someone to be pampered and fussed over, someone who they weren’t going to leave for weeks with a war demon in the middle of nowhere.
Hadur held up his hands. “I will do everything in my power to keep Bronwyn safe and help her recover, but I agree that she should be in a place with skilled healers. And I fear that she may not be safe here.”
“What? Why?” Cassie exclaimed, turning to me.
It all seemed so silly in the light of day, but Cassie did need to know, just in case there was an issue with the werewolves—with Dallas.
“I was working on a welding job up at the pack compound, and that storm was coming in. I left right when it hit, and going down the mountain, my brakes suddenly failed. Nothing. Flat to the floor nothing. No parking brake either. I was trying to steer the truck in the pouring rain and hopefully do a controlled crash when a rockslide knocked my truck off the road and I went over the cliff.” I shuddered at the memory.
“And you think the werewolves did something to your truck?” There was that look in Cassie’s eye—that look she got when she was two seconds from setting an ex-boyfriend’s pants on fire.
“I take good care of my truck,” I told her. “I mean, maybe it was an accident, but maybe it wasn’t. Then Hadur had Diebin take a note I’d written to someone, and he evidently took it to the werewolf compound. Last night Stanley shows up, insisting that I’m supposed to let him carry me out of here and to the compound in the middle of the night. He said Dallas sent him, that Dallas had sent a message to you. It just felt…weird. I was scared and suddenly with the accident and all I got paranoid. I told him I wouldn’t leave unless you all came to get me yourself.”
Just saying it made me feel like a complete idiot. What if the brake failure had truly been a mechanical issue? What if Dallas’s motives had been reasonably benign? What if I was freaking out over nothing?
“Now I’m even more positive that you’re not going to remain here,” Cassie insisted. “Dallas has been pissed at me since the thing with Shelby. I can totally see him doing something like this to break our focus and resolve.”
“I’m calling for a helicopter,” Ophelia said, getting out her phone.
How mortifying to be air lifted out in a basket. I’ll admit when I’d told Hadur I wanted my sisters to come and rescue me so I could get home and get real medical attention, I hadn’t thought about the logistics. And I hadn’t thought about leaving him here, all alone, possibly with a bunch of werewolves who might want revenge for his protecting me from Stanley’s attempt to haul me off the other night.
“First, you’re not calling for anything here because there’s no cell service, remember?” I told her. “Secondly, I’m not leaving. Ophelia, you can X-ray my leg with a portable device and bring stuff to cast it here, can’t you? I’m fine otherwise. I’ll heal in…” I looked at Ophelia.
“Twelve to fourteen weeks. Or sixteen depending on the break.”
Ugh. That was a long time—a really long time.
“Four if you drink the smoothies,” Glenda countered, waving a hand at me to get going and drink the one still in my hand. I took a sip, nearly gagging at the taste. Maybe twelve weeks would be preferable to this disgusting stuff.
“I’m not leaving you here,” Cassie snapped. “You need medical attention. You need to be home where we can help you, where you’re not in the middle of nowhere. You need to be where I’m not worried about werewolves attacking you in the middle of the night.”
I eased down onto the bed, trying to decide how I was going to get my splinted leg back on the mattress while I was still holding a frying pan and a smoothie. Mattress. Huh. How had Hadur managed that one? I couldn’t see Diebin dragging a mattress through the woods from some store. Was this one of those straw-stuffed pioneer mattresses, because it didn’t feel any different from my mattress at home. If it was, though, where had he gotten the straw?
None of these were questions I needed immediate answers to, so I put them aside, slugged down the horrible smoothie, handed Glenda the empty glass, and gently eased my leg back onto the bed. “Not leaving. Figure it out, girls, because I’m not leaving.”
“Is she always like this?” Hadur asked.
“Yep,” Cassie told him. “Always.”
“Fine.” Ophelia put her phone away. “I’ll come back with equipment and something to cast your leg. And crutches.”
“And my smoothies,” Glenda added. “And some healthy meals because I don’t think you’ve been eating right.”
“And reading material.” Sylvie held up one of the Fifty Shades books. “I’ve got a whole library of kink. And some vanilla stuff too, just in case rope play isn’t on the menu with a broken leg.”
“Diebin knows where we all live and how to reach us if you need to send a message,” Adrienne chimed in, kissing the raccoon on the top of his head. “He knows us all by name, so just tell him who the message should go to.”
