“Got it.” Jenkins pointed to where skid marks went off the road. Farther down the bluff, destroyed brush showed the appalling fall the cars had taken. “Watch your step. It’s steep.”
Of course it is.
Because nothing about this night was going to be easy.
Sourly, Donal pulled on a backpack of medical supplies and followed the trail of destruction, past broken-off trees and flattened undergrowth. It was good the forest was still damp, or fire would be a concern.
When the slope evened out, he spotted a sedan bent sideways around a tree. The second vehicle had hit the sedan near the trunk. Whimpering and moaning came from both cars.
A camp light sat on a bare patch of ground to illuminate the area.
“Donal.” Alec was half-inside one vehicle. “Got Tina here with Griffin. She’s bleeding badly. If you check for spinal injuries in the sedan, then I’ll trade places and get them out while you’re fixin’ Tina.” His southern accent surfaced with the tension.
“Good plan.”
Opening the sedan’s driver side, Donal saw why Alec was concerned. Neither of the pigeon-brained males wore seatbelts. One was half on the floor, the other tangled with the steering wheel. Broken bones, bleeding, dazed, struggling.
“Cubs. I know you hurt, but I need you to stay still. No moving.” Donal kept his tone firm and kind. Hearing the voice of someone in charge would give them the hope that everything would be all right.
Hopes were so often wrong.
Focusing, he ran a hand down the driver’s back. Spine was intact. Youngsters were so fucking flexible. A quick sweep of his front exposed no major internal damage. Broken ribs. Broken arm. Donal could assess better once he was out of the vehicle.
It took all his strength to yank open the warped passenger door. The male was lucky the back half of the car had impacted the tree.
Donal checked him over. Muscles alongside the vertebrae were strained. A hip was dislocated. Broken right leg, right humerus, ribs. Concussion.
“Stay put and we’ll get you out of here.”
A groan was the only answer.
“Alec.” At the other car, Donal waited for Alec to emerge, then slid in as he reported the damage and what to watch out for. “You might want to wait for more help to move them.”
“Will do. Looks like help is here.” Alec headed back toward the other car.
On the road above, flashing lights heralded the arrival of the fire truck. The Murphys loved those damned lights.
“Is Griffin all right?” Tina whispered. Ah, right—she’d lifemated Griffin and his two brothers last fall. No wonder she was worried.
Donal checked the unconscious driver. At least these two had worn seatbelts. The male had bashed his head against the side window when the car rolled. Nothing major. “He’ll be all right.”
Despite her obvious pain, she smiled. “Thank the Mother.”
After assessing her quickly, Donal gripped the sharp branch that’d come through the shattered windshield and penetrated her shoulder. “This is going to hurt, Tina. Don’t move, please.”
Smoothly, quickly, he pulled the branch out.
She gave a short, cut-off scream. Her hands clenched in fists.
Bending his head, Donal covered the wound with his hand and healed the severed blood vessels before she bled to death. An incredible amount of damage there. Carefully, he positioned her so he could repair her splintered collarbone. And the muscles around it.
Good enough for now.
Next patient…
As he determinedly worked through the bleeding wounds and the broken bones, energy poured out of him. By the Gods, he hated human-made machines. Especially cars.
Demon boxes on wheels.
He started on the driver of the sedan.
“Where’s the banfasa?” Kevin Murphy asked as he helped pull the male’s arm straight so the bone could be repaired.
“Helping set up the festival area.”
“A shame. We sure could use her here.”
At the sedan, Cody Murphy and Alec tried to calm the passenger so they could maneuver him off the floor. “
Kevin snorted. “Alec should just punch the idiot and knock him out.”
“He already has a concussion.” As Donal spoke, his eyesight blurred. Gods blast it, just one more second. He managed a last blast of power that knitted the male’s arm. Mostly.
Then he fell back against the side of the sedan.
“Healer.”
His head buzzed like he’d upset a beehive inside his skull. His words came out slurred. “Splint the break. It’s only partially healed.”
“Donal. You look terrible.” Farrah knelt and hugged him from behind in the way he’d taught her when she shared power with him before.
“Thank you for coming.” He put his hand over her arms and drew…nothing. No power moved.
Surprised, he tried harder and received merely a trickle. There was power in her, but the bond between them felt like a string rather than a rope.
Two months wasn’t that long. He often pulled power from females he’d mated even three Gatherings prior. He’d never had a problem before.
Farrah held him patiently. “Bonnie said to tell you Nia and Francesca aren’t in town.”
Gnome-nuts. They’d probably gone to set up the festival area like Margery.
Out of power and out of options. He set his jaw. “I understand. I’m afraid this will take longer than before.”
It did. Pulling power from her was like using a rusty pump to get a cup of water rather than standing downstream in a surging river.
Eventually, he had enough to continue.
Barely enough.
Horror unfurled in his guts.
If someone had been critically injured, they’d have died.
Pulling himself together, he patted Farrah’s hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. I appreciate the help.”
“Sure.” She kissed his cheek. Keeping her gaze away from the injured and the blood, she scrambled away and up the hill.
Rising, Donal waited a second for his head to stop spinning, then went back to work.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Unclaimed territory, Washington - one day before the full moon
Early Sunday afternoon, there was activity and noise everywhere.
Last fall, as a Scythe shifter-soldier, Patrin MacCormac and his brother had been confined in a barracks in an isolated compound and only allowed off-base long enough to assassinate someone. A hellish life, it had been. Their sister held hostage for their good behavior, trackers embedded in their bodies. Trapped.
Who could have imagined their sister, Darcy, would be the one to pull together the forces that had attacked the Scythe compounds? Fuck, but he was proud of her.
Now, he and Fell were free. Well, almost free. There was the small matter of eradicating the organization called the Scythe.
That…might take a bit of a while.
Over the course of the day, the festival grounds had filled with shifters. Old friends from different territories were exuberantly meeting again. New friends were being made. Under the waxing moon’s influence, hopeful males postured to win females.
Near the firepits, the bards were taking turns playing instruments and singing.
After dropping off food at the footpath, shifters parked elsewhere and came through the forest. Delighted to be the first to sniff out good eats, cubs were carrying the food from the road to the festival grounds.