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Cherry red salon chairs, beauty magazines stacked three feet high in places, buckets of makeup, every conceivable shade of pink nail polish. All that and more fought for space in the salon, cluttered together in a cozy way.
Rosco, Jo-Jo's beloved basset hound, snoozed in his wicker basket in the corner. His brown and black ears twitched once, but he didn't wake up at the sound of us entering the salon. Not surprising. If there wasn't food involved or a chance to be petted in the offing, then Rosco wasn't much interested in things.
I peered at the familiar furnishings, but everything seemed like it had a thick fog wrapped over it. Still, the blurry sight of the salon and Rosco comforted me, no matter how much my brain was distorting them right now.
"Put her in the chair," Jo-Jo instructed her sister. "Quickly now. You can see how much blood she's lost. "
"A little more than usual," I murmured as Sophia hefted me into position. "Girl got in a lucky shot on me. My own fault, really, for not remembering that she was even there to start with. "
"Babbling. "
This time, Sophia Deveraux was the one who spoke, in a raspy, broken voice that sounded like she'd spent her entire life smoking cigars, chasing them down with barrels of mountain moonshine, then chugging antifreeze just for kicks. Of course, I knew that she didn't actually do any of those things. Sophia didn't talk much, given her grinding tone, and I'd always wondered what traumatic thing had happened to her to so completely ruin her voice. But I'd never asked. It couldn't be anything good, not with the quiet, bone-deep sorrow that radiated off the dwarf at times. Still, I made the effort to roll my head to the side to look at her.
At a hundred and thirteen, Sophia was still in the prime of her life, unlike Jo-Jo, who was firmly entrenched in middle age. And that wasn't the only difference between the two dwarven sisters. Jo-Jo was a southern lady through and through with her pearls and pink dresses, whereas Sophia had a fondness for Goth gear.
Tonight, Sophia wore a black terrycloth robe covered with smiling skeletons. Her hair was a short black stain that brushed up against the absolute paleness of her face, which was even more ashen tonight since her lips were free of the crimson or even black lipstick she sometimes wore. At five feet one, Sophia was tall for a dwarf and had a good inch on Jo-Jo. Sophia was also much stronger than her middle-aged sister, and the black fabric of her robe did little to hide her thick, sturdy body.
Jo-Jo, who'd stepped over to the sink to wash her hands, jerked her chin at her sister. "Get a good grip and hold her down. She's lost a lot of blood, so this is going to hurt. "
Sophia nodded, moved forward, and put her hands on my shoulders, securing me to the salon chair. The dwarf's grip was so strong, so firm, that it felt as if my entire upper body had been clamped down with a silverstone vise.
"Sorry, Gin," Sophia rasped.
I would have shrugged my shoulders, telling her that it was okay, but my body wouldn't move. Nothing ever did after Sophia got hold of it.
Jo-Jo finished washing her hands, then dragged a free-standing halogen light over to me, angling it down so that it illuminated my body. The dwarf picked up a pair of scissors from a stack of beauty magazines and cut open my cargo pants and other layers, exposing the ugly gunshot wound in my thigh. Despite the makeshift tourniquet that I'd applied, blood still trickled out of the hole in a steady stream.
Jo-Jo tilted her head and studied the wound. Then she pulled another chair over to me, sat down in it, and raised her hand. A buttermilk white glow coated the dwarf's palm, and the same light filled her colorless eyes, as though clouds were drifting through her pale gaze. Her Air magic filled the room, as the dwarf fully embraced her elemental power.
The sudden influx of magic caused the spider rune scars in my palms to itch and burn, just like they always did whenever I was exposed to so much of another elemental's power. That's because the scars were made out of silverstone, a special metal that was highly prized for its ability to absorb all forms of elemental magic.
Although the silverstone had long since hardened in my flesh, it always seemed to me like the metal in my hands actually hungered for magic, as if the silverstone were some sort of parasite inside me just waiting for the chance to soak up all the power it could possibly hold-and then some. Having the metal in my hands was what had made it so difficult for me to use my Ice magic. For years, the silverstone had absorbed my power even as I brought it to bear, since Ice and Fire elementals almost always released their magic through their hands. It was only during a recent fight to the death with another Stone elemental that I'd been able to tap into enough of my Ice magic to blast through the blockage. Now, the silverstone scars held my Ice power instead of preventing me from using it.
A few weeks ago, the feel of Jo-Jo's warm, healing Air magic, which was so different from my own cool Ice and Stone power, would have made me grind my teeth together. The dwarf's magic just felt wrong to me, like a pair of shoes that were too tight.
But ever since I'd used my Ice magic to numb my body when I was fighting LaFleur, the feel of the dwarf's magic hadn't bothered me quite as much. Oh, it still annoyed me, still made that primal little voice in the back of my head mutter, but I didn't snarl at the sensation anymore. At least, not as often. Or maybe that was because I knew that Jo-Jo was healing me, not hurting me with her magic like so many others had done over the years.
Jo-Jo leaned forward so that her palm was an inch above the black, bloody hole in my leg. Something hot sizzled to life on the surface of my thigh, the first prick of what morphed into a thousand needles stabbing deeper and deeper into my skin until it felt like my whole leg was on fire.
The sensation was just Jo-Jo using her magic. Air elementals healed people by tapping into all the natural gases in the atmosphere, especially oxygen, and making them circulate through wounds. The dwarf was using her Air power, using the oxygen, to push the bullet out of my thigh, repair all of my broken blood vessels, and pull the ragged edges of my skin back together.
And it hurt like hell.
Even though Jo-Jo was healing me, her magic was still the opposite of mine. Two elements always complemented each other-like Air and Fire-and two elements always opposed each other-like Fire and Ice. The dwarf's Air magic was the opposite of my Ice and Stone magic, and her using that kind of power just felt wrong to me, the same way that my magic would seem strange to any other Air or Fire elemental.
Even if I'd wanted to move, to squirm away from the dwarf, her elemental power, and the hot, invisible, healing needles stabbing me, I couldn't have-not with Sophia's hands clamped down on my shoulders.
So I gave myself over to Jo-Jo's magic, drifting in and out of consciousness while the dwarf worked on me. Sometime later, something thunked into a metal pan-the bullet that Sydney had put into me. A few minutes after that, the needles of pain started dying down in my leg before disappearing. I sighed, my body going limp in the salon chair. Jo-Jo's magic might not bother me as much as it had before, but I was still glad when she stopped using it.
"Leg's done. " Jo-Jo's voice seemed distant and far away, even though I knew that she was still right there leaning over me. "Let's get that silverstone vest off her and look at those wounds in her shoulder now. "
"Uh-huh. " Sophia grunted her agreement.
Hands moved me around, unzipping my silverstone vest and stripping it off me. The snip-snip-snip of scissors sounded again, as Jo-Jo cut through more of my gray layers, and
the warm air in the salon swirled against my bare skin.
"Not nearly as bad as the leg wound," the dwarf murmured. "These didn't hit anything too important, at least. "
