She didn’t know how they did it as much as she didn’t know how Mr. Wilson so easily enthralled them, for her heart hurt at the mere thought of any of it, at the mere idea of whatever Kallias had had to do under that sea. No one, but especially not a soul so gentle as his, should have to kill, and she hated Mr. Runington all the more for making him do so. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that one man’s greed could take so much.
CHAPTER 95
By the time they saw the doctor, the bleeding was down to a trickle. Mr. Wilson still looked pale—she imagined he had lost as much or more blood as Runington had the night she found him—but she wasn’t sure how good of an idea it was to poke around the wound when it had finally calmed down. (Kallias had done a wonderful job bandaging him with the shirt.)
But the doctor insisted. Though he said the wound looked finenow, pieces of Mr. Wilson’s cotton shirt were missing. Though Kallias had ripped the shirt to use it as a bandage, the part with the hole was intact and fabric was clearly missing where the bullet had gone through.
“I see,” she said as the doctor held it out to both of them. “But what does that have to do with anything?” Of course there was a hole; a bullet had gone through for heaven’s sake!
“Then the fabric is likelyinsideMr. Wilson. If we do not remove the fabric, it will degrade and fester inside him and kill him.”
“Oh.How disgusting.”
“Do forgive me for offending your sensibilities,” the doctor started. He was an older man in his late fifties, skinny and gray. “I would normally not share such details with a woman but since you asked and since I know you’ve seen quite a few things yourself…”
“I am not offended, Doctor.”
“Nothing can faze Miss Wains.” Mr. Wilson smirked. “Do what you must, Doctor.”
The man nodded. “I do wish there was another way.”
“My fault for getting shot, I suppose,” Mr. Wilson tried to joke.
The doctor almost acted as if he had not heard. “I will collect my gear,” he said instead.
“And I will be here, holding your hand the whole time,” she said.
“Daria.” He dragged out the name, clearly touched but also clearly torn. “You don’t have to. I’m sure it’s not something you want to see.”
The doctor nodded. “I warn you, Miss Wains, it might be quite graphic.”
“That’s okay,” she murmured. “We’re friends after all, and he got it helping me. It’s the least I can do.”
CHAPTER 96
The procedure was hard to watch, not necessarily because of the blood or the exposed tissues. No, it was not the gore that disturbed her. It was Mr. Wilson’s face. It twisted in pain. It contorted in ways she had never seen nor thought possible. He clenched, he moaned, he hissed, and more, and all the while he genuinely was trying his best not to move his torso. In that, he was doing an admirable job, even if occasionally his entire body jerked with tension.
At times, she was sure he would break her wrist, that he could just crush it under the weight of his agony. She hushed him, hummed to him what little melodies she knew. At times, she traced her fingers lightly against his other arm, hoping it felt as wonderful and distracting as when Kallias had done it to her in the hopes she could give him something—anything—else to focus on.
Time seemed to stretch on as slowly as it had when she waited for Kallias to resurface, as if this day was meant to last a year, but finally, dreadfully slowly, it was all over.
Mr. Wilson heaved for breath on the table. He was drenched in sweat, his skin looked pale, and his back was arched under the tension of his agony, as if he could still feel the ghost of the doctor’s tools, as if they still scraped and clawed at him.
Slowly, with some cooing words from her, he started to relax and dropped to the bed in exhaustion, and then eventually,eventually, his breathing calmed too.
Eyes closed, he seemed awake but not quite present, and the doctor gestured for her to step into the other room. She slowly extracted her hand from his ironclad grip before stepping to the other room and shutting the door.
“Yes, doctor?”
“You did well in there, Miss Wains.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“In fact, you were quite a help. And you didn’t look faint at all. If the lighthouse does not work out, I do beseech you to come here.” There was a twinkle in his eye that suggested he was mostly joking.
“Thank you, sir. Is that all you wanted to say?”
“Hardly. Do you know his next of kin?”
