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“Where’s the boiling water?” I asked Hyde, cutting Grimm off quickly. “There’s not a lot of whiskey here and I’d like to get started before it wears off of him.” Grimm started to speak, but I shoved the bottle against his lips again. “Drink. You’re going to need it.”
“Here.” Christian sat the pot of water down on the floor. “Boiled water.”
I put the whiskey down. “Thank you.”
“Give that back,” Grimm groaned. “I need more.”
“Anymore and your blood will be the consistency of water,” I admonished. “We need to do this before you lose anymore.”
“Hyde?”
“On it.” The man grabbed the bottle and held it up against Grimm’s lips. “My brother needs what he needs. Can you get started?”
I looked between them, ready to argue my point. Three stony faces looked back at me in return. Sighing, I shook my head, took the thread and submerged it into the water to sterilize it. Carefully I swirled it around before I took it out and started threading it through the needle.
Just like old times.
I slid the needle through his skin. Grimm hissed, but he didn’t jerk away as I began to pull the thread through his flesh. Bit by bit, his skin pulled together. I focused on what I was doing. That was easier than figuring out what was going to happen to me when I finished.
“Almost done,” I assured Grimm as he grunted. “The bleeding is already slowing.”
“Thank God for that.” He panted, his chest rising and falling. “Got anymore of that whiskey?”
I nodded at Hyde. He put the bottle to his brother’s lips, letting him take long, hard gulps of the amber liquid until he shook his head and panted more. I focused on what I was doing. Carefully, I tied off the thread, making a neat little knot to keep it from pulling through his skin.
“There,” I said. “You’re all done.”
“Why are you so good at this?” Christian asked.
I shrugged. “Part of where I grew up, honestly. Stitching a bullet wound or two is nothing new to me.” I grabbed an unopened bottle of water and brought it to Grimm’s lips. “Drink some of this.”
He groaned. “I prefer whiskey.”
“Of course you do, but you’ll drink what I give you.”
An amused expression filled Grimm’s eyes. He didn’t pull away as I tilted the bottle of water against his lips. Instead, he gulped it down, getting more than halfway done before he pulled back.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m feeling better already.”
“Yeah.” I capped the bottle and sat it aside.
His skin was still a little pale, blood smeared all over his flesh. I took another bottle and started cleaning him up. To my surprise, he was co-operative to being rinsed clean of all the blood that stained his flesh.
“There,” I muttered, pulling back as I pushed hair behind my ear. “That’s better.”
“You’re amazing,” Grimm muttered, his eyelids fluttering. “I feel like I need to rest.”
“That’s a good idea.” I touched his forehead. It was clammy, but he wasn’t burning up with a fever. Thank God for small miracles. “I think you’ll be okay for a while, but I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”
Grimm grunted and gave a nod, but that was it. I could tell from the heavy set of his eyelids he was ready to fall asleep. I stood up, checking him over carefully until I was convinced he would be okay for the night.
“He should be fine,” I said, glancing at his brother who rocked back and forth anxiously. “A little rest, some food, water, and he’ll be alright.”
“You think so?” Hyde asked, reaching out to grasp his brother’s hand. “I don’t know what the fuck I would do without him.”
My heart squeezed painfully. The truth was that I had no idea what would happen in the next few hours. As long as Grimm was alive, I would be fine. But I got the feeling that if he tanked I would meet a worse fate.
“Did either of you bring a blanket?”
