Stavros looked at me, gun pointed at the pale light of the sky. “Too-rapid healing causes pain? I thought it just healed if you had lycanthropy.”
“It can,” I said, in a voice that was thin with strain, “but sometimes it does this.”
“Is the healing worth it?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
The EMTs were here. Edward and I walked Newman to the ambulance. Edward also talked to me about the arm and the muscle twitching. “If it scarred that badly and you were human, I’d be worried you’d lose mobility.”
“That’s what they said about my left arm and the scar tissue at the bend, but as long as I hit the weights regularly I’m fine.”
He stepped on top of the log, not over. When you’re in the woods long enough you step on logs, not over, in case of snakes. It just becomes automatic so you can look before you step.
“The new one is a longer scar and involves more muscles and tendons.”
“What are you wanting me to do?”
“See if the doctors can do anything for it.”
“The EMTs said they’d cut it open and stitch it to keep it from scarring.”
“If you do that, then you can feed the ardeur and it’ll be all better.”
I gave him an unfriendly look as we followed the stretcher onto the road, and the morning light was suddenly more serious without the trees blocking it.
“I don’t like stitches,” I said.
He grinned at me. “No one does.”
“If I wimp out you’ll never let me live this down, will you?”
He grinned wider and shook his head. “Not if you lose mobility in the arm, and get us killed because of it.” The grin faded, and his eyes went serious. “I’ll hold your hand.”
I glared at him. “Oh, that’ll make it all better.”
“I don’t offer to hold hands with the other marshals.”
We had a moment of looking at each other, a moment of years of guarding each other’s backs, of being friends. I nodded. “Thanks.”
He smiled, but his eyes were still too serious for it. “You’re welcome, but save the thanks until after you finish cursing me.”
“Why will I curse you?”
“The rapid healing means drugs go through your body faster than normal, right?”
My arm chose that moment to spasm so hard it almost dropped me to my knees. Edward had to catch me, or I would have fallen. When I could talk, I said, “Yeah.”
“Is this the worst injury you’ve had since you got lycanthropy?”
“Without preternatural healing, yeah,” I said. My voice still sounded breathy.
“So you don’t know if painkillers still work for you, or if like all lycanthropes drugs run through your system too fast.”
I stared up at him. I was already sweating and pale; I couldn’t pale anymore without passing out. “Fuck,” I said.
“See, I told you you’d curse.”
Edward drove me in the SUV with its new scorch marks on the back. We followed the ambulance to the hospital, where we’d find out if painkillers still worked for me. I was betting they didn’t. Fuck.
24
THEY GAVE ME a local directly into my arm, and then Dr. Fields cut open the scar. Apparently he’d attended the same seminar as Matt, the EMT, so it was Dr. Fields’s first time seeing if the theory worked in practice. He was very honest about it. “I’m not a hundred percent certain it will leave you scar free, but it will probably make the muscle and tendon issue better.”
“So we could do all this and I could still scar and still have some mobility loss,” I said.
“Yes.”
I think I started to get off the examining table, but Edward was there, and he put his hand on my shoulder. He just shook his head. Damn it. Edward made me lie back down and held my hand like he said he would. Double damn it. An hour later, I was cut open, and the local had worked for that. It wasn’t pleasant, and the shots were a bitch, and I really hated feeling my skin part under the scalpel, but it was nothing to feeling my skin being tugged into place with a needle and stitches. That was always a creepy feeling even if it didn’t exactly hurt. Matt, the EMT, had forgone sleep to watch, and so had a lot of other doctors and interns. No one had seen the practical application of the theory and they wanted to, though everyone was in face shields and full gear just in case blood spread. It was technically contagious, though my variety seemed not to be up to this point. I was medical miracle enough to excite the med students all to hell.
Fields and I had already discussed that it needed to be the kind of stitches that dissolved, just in case my body tried to grow over the stitches. “You heal that well?” he’d asked.