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“You two can’t even go to a damn sporting event without trouble,” Luc said.
“I grabbed shirts for you,” Lindsey said, offering folded black cotton to me and Ethan. “Fresh from the swag room.”
“You aren’t technically a Guard,” Luc said to me, “but since you just took another shot on behalf of your House and Master, we figured you deserved one.”
“That, and the fact that I train and work with you guys?”
Luc winked at me. “That helps.”
“What’s the House record for gunshots?” I asked.
“Five,” Ethan said. He’d walked behind his desk, was scanning his computer screen. “Peter had that prize. Would that he’d been here for a sixth,” he muttered, undoubtedly angry that he couldn’t deliver that sixth shot.
Peter was a former Cadogan Guard who’d betrayed the House for Celina Desaulniers, the former Master of Navarre House.
Given the night we’d had, I was determined to keep the mood light. “And what’s the prize for beating the record?”
“House arrest,” Ethan said. He glanced up, smiled thinly. “And you wouldn’t enjoy that, Sentinel.”
No argument there.
“Am I late?” A woman with dark skin and dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing pink scrubs stood in the doorway. Delia was the House’s doctor.
“You’re right on time,” Ethan said. “Your patient awaits.”
“Patient?” I asked.
“Treatment, Sentinel. Your wound should be addressed.”
I didn’t like the way that sounded, especially since my arm was already itchy with healing. “I’m fine.”
Delia walked toward me, a tray in her hands. “Hello, Merit. How are you?”
“Hello, Delia. I’m fine.”
“Got shot again, did you?”
“I did. Although I didn’t pass out this time.” The last time, I’d hit my head and been knocked unconscious.
“That’s something at least.” She put the tray on Ethan’s desk, then walked to the sink in the small bar in the bookshelves, washed her hands to the elbow. I appreciated the effort, even if it seemed unlikely a vampire would die of sepsis.
With cool and careful fingers, she lifted my arm, surveyed the bandage before glancing back at Ethan, taking in the ripped shirt. “Homemade bandage?”
“Make-do,” he agreed. “We were chasing a suspect.”
“Again,” Luc said, “only you, too.”
Delia looked at me. “Pulling away the bandage might hurt, so let’s get it over with.” Without waiting for me to object, she released my arm. “Would you mind stripping her?”
Lindsey winked at me. “Of course not.”
I pushed away her hands. “Hey, I don’t need stripping. It’s my arm that’s damaged.”
“The shirt is filthy,” Delia said. “It looks like you scraped off a few layers of a dirty street.”
That wasn’t far from the truth.
“Take it off, or I’ll cut it off.”
