Page 6 of Minions and Magic
But I couldn’t, so instead I held Stanley’s hand and cried silent tears as I waited for the vehicles coming up the road.
Ophelia and Pierre jumped out of the ambulance with Ricky close behind. I stood back and let my sister and her vampire co-worker help Stanley while Ricky jotted down a bunch of notes on a pad of paper attached to a clipboard. He took my statement, then wandered over to the Hyundai while I hovered near Stanley, hoping for some good news.
“This your jack?” Ricky called.
I shot Stanley a concerned glance, then wandered over to him. “Yeah. That one there, I don’t know where the one Stanley used was. I’m assuming he used one.”
Ricky shrugged. “Might have just tried to pick the car up with one hand and change the tire with the other. I’ve done it before when I couldn’t find my jack, or when half of it was missing.”
I could totally see Ricky doing that, large round belly and all, because he was a bear shifter. Not that werewolves were slackers when it came to strength, but they didn’t quite have the muscle mass that bears did. Plus there was one other thing that made me doubt Stanley had been using the technique Ricky had suggested.
“He was under the car, flat on his back. I don’t think he would have been in that position if he’d been holding the car up with one hand and turning lug nuts with the other.”
Ricky’s thick unibrow practically shot up to his hairline. “Why was he underneath the car if he was changin’ a tire?”
I blinked in surprise, because I hadn’t even thought of that. Yeah. Nothing Cassie had taught me about changing tires had involved scooting underneath the car with the tire off and the vehicle perched precariously on a cheap, comes-with-the-car jack.
Glancing over at where my sister and Pierre were working on Stanley, I hoped he’d be able to answer these questions.
Ricky grunted. “Found the jack. But what the acorns and walnuts is it doing way over here?”
I looked to see where he was headed and saw him pick up a hunk of metal from across the road. Now that was just as much of a mystery as what Stanley was doing under the car. I’d assumed the jack had broken, or the gears hadn’t held the car in place, but if that was the case it would have been lying next to or under the car, not all the way across the road.
I glanced back at the Hyundai, but didn’t see any signs of an explosion or something that might have propelled the jack so far away and allowed the car to drop down onto Stanley.
“Looks like it’s okay,” Ricky said. “Not sheared off, or any damage that might have caused it to drop the car.”
That I didn’t quite take as any sort of clue, given that I was skeptical that such a flimsy jack could reliably hold a car upright anyway. But why had Stanley been underneath? I never would have crawled under a car supported by my crappy factory jack if I hadn’t been trying to save someone’s life.
“He’s stable,” Ophelia announced. “I’ve got everything aligned, and relieved some of the cranial pressure. Glenda, do you have anything to speed his healing along?”
Now that I could do. I walked over to see Stanley on a stretcher, his back supported and bandages holding everything where it needed to be. His face still appeared a mess, but his eyes were alert as his gaze met mine. I gave him a smile, then went to the trunk of my car and pulled out a bag. Inside were half a dozen twenty-ounce drink containers, each containing a different potion. I chose the one I’d prepared for traumatic injuries, carefully brewed during the spring equinox, and passed it over to Ophelia. She flipped open the lid. A straw popped out, and she held it to Stanley’s lips.
The werewolf shot me a piteous look.
“Drink it,” I told him. “You’ll be on your feet by tomorrow instead of laying in your bed for days or even weeks.”
He did as I said, gagging and choking as he forced the smoothie down. I knew it probably tasted like old gym socks, cow poop, and ground beef that had sat in the summer sun for three days, but it was powerful stuff. Watching Stanley’s aura, I saw it brighten, glowing with the greenish gold of spring’s first leaves. That was when I knew he’d be okay.
Pierre and Ophelia stood, standing back a bit as they watched Stanley. He grunted, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he slowly moved his toes.
“Spine’s healing first,” my sister commented. “That means either the brain injury wasn’t all that severe, or that Stanley didn’t have any brain to injure.”
The werewolf made a raspy noise that I realized was a laugh. “Only need the brains for fishing and car repair,” he quipped.
I felt the adrenaline drain from me, realizing he’d truly be okay. “You scared the heck out of me, Stanley. I’m glad I glanced in the rear view on the way by or I wouldn’t have seen your feet sticking out from under the car.”
“Thanks, Glenda.” He gave me a faint smile. “For the healing potion, too. Although I hope I never have to drink anything like that ever again.”
I laughed. “Just don’t go crawling under cars supported by crappy factory jacks while you’re changing a tire, okay?”
He frowned, looking puzzled. “Tire blew, but there was a leak. Was worried it was coolant and I’d overheat, so crawled under to check.”
“And the jack gave way,” Pierre finished the werewolf’s sentence.
Stanley shook his head, wincing at the motion. “No. Jack was fine. Someone…I think someone kicked it out. I remember seeing a foot, and a shadow, then the car crashed down on top of me.”
Ophelia looked over to me, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.
