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“No, it only works when I’m on the property.”
“Maybe they ought to fix that,” he said.
“What’s the point?” Nana shot back. “If she isn’t here, there isn’t much she can do, is there?”
“Well, she’d know to hurry home. It was awful to watch them and not be able to contact you.” Ray seemed genuinely distressed, and I felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“Help me,” a timid voice called. “Please, help me.”
I turned toward the gate to see a young woman stumbling forward. My body reacted as she crossed the ward. Her hair was matted to her head, and there were bloodstains on her clothes. For a fleeting moment, I thought she might be Ashley, except this girl had reddish-brown hair. I tried to disguise my disappointment.
I rushed forward and met her halfway. She fell to her knees, sobbing.
“I don’t know her,” Nana Pratt said.
“Me neither,” Ray said.
I kept my focus on the girl. “Where are you hurt?”
The girl continued to cry.
“Poor dear,” Nana Pratt said. “She’s too upset to talk. I recall a similar experience.”
Ray looked at her. “You were attacked and ran to the nearest house?”
“No, I’d lost the promise ring that my Edward had given me. I was beside myself. Couldn’t form words I cried so hard.”
“Yes, that’s the same,” Ray remarked wryly.
“Let’s get you inside.” I slipped my arm behind the girl and helped her to her feet.
She whimpered as she straightened her legs, and I wondered whether any bones were fractured. She seemed able to walk albeit with a slight limp. She was a human, so I wasn’t about to call for a fae healer.
I guided her into the house to the kitchen, mainly because it was the only room with chairs. If I could get her comfortable and talking, maybe she knew something about Ashley.
“You need a couch like a normal person,” Nana Pratt said.
“Criticize her later,” Ray scolded. “She’s busy.”
“I don’t want to ruin your chair,” the girl whispered. “I’m a mess.”
“Nothing is precious here,” I promised. “Sit. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
“Thank you.” Her voice sounded hoarse, from screaming or crying, I wasn’t sure.
I filled a glass and set it on the table next to her. “What’s your name?”
“Lyra.”
“Well, Lyra, today’s your lucky day. I have a First Aid kit and plenty of bandages. I don’t want to overstep, but if you tell me more about your injuries, I can help.”
She studied me with interest. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, but I had a grandfather who disliked them, so he taught me how to do basic medical care.” It wasn’t a lie. My grandfather avoided most professionals and authority figures. His distrust of ‘the system’ ran deep. He taught me how to suture and dress wounds before I was twelve. He wasn’t particularly clumsy, but he was constantly in need of a bandage or an ice pack. The older he got, the worse his injuries.
The girl kicked off her flip-flop and stuck out her leg. A bright red gash slanted across her skin.
“How many more of those do you have?”
