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Bill whistled through his teeth. “She’s lucky. Lots of arteries in the leg, but you’d never have made it here if one of those had been hit. Let me get my suture kit.”
“Your suture kit? But—you can’t—”
“Did you want my help or not? There isn’t much difference between stitching up a wild animal and a human being.” He paused. “You can’t leave it all to the elements, Hunter. It’ll take days.”
“Can we use power to heal her?”
“I’m assuming someone is after you?”
“Yeah.”
Bill nodded. “I don’t want a lot of power in the air.”
So Hunter watched while Bill treated the wound, sprayed it with some kind of topical anesthetic, and then began to thread the flesh of her hip back together. For the moment, that’s all his brain could focus on, the steady slip and pull of thread through skin. It should have been horrifying, but he’d been through enough horror in the last week. This was almost hypnotizing, especially with a fire crackling behind them.
“I think you’ve got a lot to tell me,” said Bill.
Hunter shook his head. “I can’t piece it all together.”
“Try me.”
So Hunter talked through the events of the past week, from Silver to the carnival to Calla and Noah Dean and the threats about what would happen Monday. He finished with the Merricks leaving town, how they’d packed up and deserted the house with no notice.
He had a hard time keeping the bitterness out of his voice with that one.
But Bill nodded. “Becca went with them.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Right now? Yeah, I’m okay with that.” He tied off the last of the sutures. “Your girl here might not even need those by morning. Leave the stuff out here when you go. I’ll burn it.”
Then he turned toward the house.
“That’s it?” said Hunter, dismayed. “That’s all you have to say?”
“That’s it. Like I said, kid: your mess.”
“Jesus. No wonder Becca hates you.”
Bill whirled and hit him so fast that Hunter didn’t even see it coming. Suddenly, he found himself down in the sand, tasting blood in his mouth. His jaw ached like . . . well, like he’d been slugged in the jaw. Casper was standing over him, growling.
But Bill wasn’t afraid of the dog, and he sure wasn’t afraid of Hunter. He stared down at him. “You don’t know what I’ve done to protect Becca. So don’t talk about things you don’t understand. You get me?”
Hunter made it to his knees and spit blood. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
“This is life or death, Hunter.”
“No shit.”
“Your father made the same sacrifices for you, and instead of living up to his expectations, you’re right in the middle of it all. Well, you’re not dragging it to my doorstep. Not if I can help it.”
Hunter couldn’t decide if his head was spinning or if that really didn’t make any sense. He lifted his eyes to find Bill walking away. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your dad. You think it’s an accident that no other Guides came after you when your father died?”
Wait.
Wait.
