“In the cupboard behind me is a mortar and pestle, please bring it with a little bit of water.”
He brought them, and she quickly made the paste she would need for the wound. Once that was done, without shame, she started to pull off her shirt, but suddenly stopped and cried out.
“Let me help,” he said gently, and she nodded.
She lifted her arms as much as she could, and Miles couldn’t help himself as he gently ran his hands up her exposed sides to the offending article of clothing before slipping them inside. Using his hands, he stretched the shirt and slowly worked it off of her. He was so gentle that goosebumps raised on her flesh, and she shivered slightly. He watched her face, her closed eyes and how she bit her bottom lip, as he slowly worked out one arm and then the other and then pulled her head through before laying it to the side.
“There,” he said quietly, swallowing hard. She had on an electric blue bra that her breasts were straining against, and before she opened her eyes, he licked his lips, imagining what they looked like free. He turned away then, chastising himself.
“You’ll have to undo my bra,” she said quietly, and he looked at her with wide eyes. “The attack probably shredded it quite badly; I’ll turn around.”
She shifted in her seat, so her back was to him, and she was right, the bra had sustained heavy damage in the attack; her back was oozing black gunk and blood. He bit his lip now and shakily raised his hands to undo the clasps of the bra, pushing the straps forward and down her arms.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“What now?”
“You need to take a knife, clean out the wound, put the antidote on, and wrap me up.”
She explained it as though doing it was going to be the easiest thing ever, but Miles knew it wasn’t, and he didn’t want to cause her any more pain than she had already gone through.
“It’s fine,” she said, “I’ve done this before.”
Chapter Eleven
Miles
He didn’t care how confident she sounded, or how hard she tried to stifle her screams, the way her body shook as he scraped the black muck from her wound was enough to tell him the pain she was in, and he felt something inside of him break. He wanted to hold her, to stroke her skin and tell her that it was all going to be okay, and keep her safe from harm. But he had to do this, or who knew what the poison would do, what damage it would cause.
He scraped the last of the muck out and then put the knife down quickly, grabbing the paste she had made. She slumped forward, beads of sweat had formed on her skin, and he was sure tears were running down her face even if her sobs were silent. He used his fingers to smooth the paste into the wound, and she gasped softly. He wasn’t sure if it was from more pain or relief.
Once the wound was covered in the mint smelling gunk, he wiped his hand on a nearby kitchen towel and reached for the bandage from the first aid kit. He had long arms, so wrapping the bandage around her was easy. He was careful not to brush against the wound as he did so.
Only once it was covered and secure did he pick up the little bandage clip and put it in place to keep the bandage where it was. He sat back to admire his handiwork and smiled softly.
“I’m all done,” he said.
She shivered slightly. “Thank you.”
Her voice was weak, and he felt that protective urge to wrap his arms around her again.
“Let me get you a fresh a shirt; where’s your bedroom?” he asked.
“To the left,” she said.
He got up and walked to the purple door to the left, going in and to the dresser. It didn’t take him long to find a tank top that wouldn’t be hard to get her into, one that had that built-in support that girls could wear when they didn’t want to wear a bra. He brought it out to where she was. She had dropped the bra to the ground and was using one arm to cover her breasts as she used the other free hand as leverage to stand up.
“Slowly,” he said, rushing forward to help her.
“I’m not an invalid.” She smiled.
He looked down at her, a few inches dividing them. They stared into each other's eyes for the most prolonged moment before Miles held up the shirt.
“Do you need help getting into this?”
“No. Thank you, though.”
Miles turned around while Lizzie pulled the shirt on, and once she was done, she sat down again and let him know he could have a seat. He turned around and went back to his seat with her now facing him.
She gave him a charming smile. “Thank you for helping me; it feels much better already.”
“My pleasure, good to know I have a use,” he chuckled.
“Where did you learn medicine?” she asked curiously.
Miles busied himself with tidying up the medical aid kit. “My mortal life, some things you don’t forget when you become a Balancer. Medicine is something I remember vividly, and I have kept up with the latest practices as time has passed; it’s a hobby of mine.”
Lizzie grinned. “Interesting hobby.”
“Some would say boring.” Miles glanced at her with a grin of his own.
Lizzie sat back gently. “So what have we learned today of our little friends?”
“They’re definitely up to something with the Demons, though I don’t understand how the Balancers come into play just yet. We need to figure out where they are taking the Demons; it could be the same place as the Balancers.”
“We now?” Lizzie asked. “Have you decided to trust me then?”
“You did get sliced open for me,” Miles pointed out. “That has to earn at least four brownie points.”
“Ten, but who is counting?” Lizzie corrected him. “But let’s go back to your question, why take the Balancers? I think it’s because they’re the ones bringing the Demons in.”
Miles looked at her thoughtfully. “Of course, because they want to restore the city to balance, and then, of course, John Patrick starts asking questions because Balancers don’t report back from assignments.”
“So he gets taken to wherever it is they take everyone,” Lizzie said with bright eyes. “You don’t think they’re killing Balancers, do you?”
“They can’t,” Miles said with a deep frown. “You’re not allowed to.”
Lizzie snorted, and Miles looked at her curiously as she said, “I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to abduct Demons and Balancers as well, but here we stand.”
Miles fell silent and thought about what Lizzie had just said; she had a very valid argument. If they were willing to break some of the rules, perhaps they were ready to go further. How far, precisely, were they willing to go? This was more than just a bunch of Angels fighting in the name of Good. This was an organized unit, an extremist group, and Lizzie and he would have to find their leader and put an end to this before the balance was lost forever.
“How long until you’re well enough to move?” Miles asked.
Lizzie shifted slightly in her seat. “Not until the morning, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll be back for you then,” Miles said, standing.
“You can stay,” Lizzie blurted out. “If you want. I mean, if we’re going to work together, you might as well hole up here at the pub. I’ve got a spare sleeper couch and everything.”