“You’re going to cut me, aren’t you?”
Doolittle nodded. “That purple swelling on your arm is the accumulation of dead Lyc-V combined with trapped venom. We must purge it from your system. Do you remember how to push silver from your body?”
“Yes.” Not something you’d forget.
Doolittle pulled up a chair and sat next to me so our eyes were level. “I need to make a cut on your arm and insert a needle into the muscle affected by the bite. The needle is made of a silver alloy.”
It would hurt. Oh yes. It would hurt like hell.
Raphael reached over and covered my hand with his.
“We must give it a few minutes for your body to react,” Doolittle said. “Then I want you to concentrate on pushing the needle out. This will stimulate blood and lymph flow to the wound and expel the poison. If we purge the poison, your chances of survival will be significantly higher.”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on their ends. I was tired, so tired, and my body felt like it had been beaten with a sack of rocks. The mere thought of silver needles made me want to cringe.
“You can do it,” Raphael said. “Stop being a baby about it.”
“Screw you.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Come on, tough guy. Show me what you’ve got.”
I clenched the chair’s armrests. “Do it.”
Raphael put his hands on my right shoulder, pinning me to the chair. Barabas clamped me from the left.
Doolittle took a scalpel. His hand flashed, too quickly to see. Pain stung me, quick and sharp. Black blood gushed from the wound, and Doolittle wiped it with gauze. “This will sting.”
A white-hot needle thrust into my arm. My entire body screamed in alarm. It felt like someone had bored a hole in my muscle and poured molten metal into it.
“Hold it in,” Doolittle told me, his voice gentle. “You’re doing wonderful. Wonderful. Hold it. A little longer…”
I growled and clawed at the armrest with my left hand. Barabas held me tight.
“Did you like my message on the table?” Raphael asked.
“Loved it,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “I’ll have to repay the favor later.”
The pain grew and grew, inflaming my arm. I shuddered, my limbs shaking.
“Don’t change shape,” Doolittle said. “You’re doing fine. You’re doing very well. Just a little bit more. Hold on for me, Andrea.”
The pain ate its way through my muscle all the way to the bone and scraped it with sharp serrated teeth. I snarled.
“Aaalmost there,” Doolittle crooned. “Almost.”
“We got you,” Barabas told me. “We got you.”
I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take another second. My body twisted, looking for a way to escape. Faint spots appeared on my skin.
“Don’t change shape,” Raphael snapped.
“Shut up.”
“Be good or I’ll kiss you in front of everybody.”
“Hell no,” I snarled. I had to hold on and live through this so I could punch him in the face. It was a great goal.
“Hold on,” Doolittle told me. “Ten more seconds.”
Aaah. It hurts. It hurts, hurrts, hurrrrrts…
“Expel,” Doolittle’s voice snapped.
I concentrated every ounce of my will on the pain.
Heat spread through me, combing through my flesh with spiked fingers.
Get out of my body. Get the hell out!
The needle shivered.
I cried out.
“Expel it,” Doolittle urged.
“You can do it,” Barabas told me.
I pushed. The needle slid free and scalding-hot blood gushed down my arm. It ran gray, purple, and then finally bright red. Raphael let go of my arm and I punched him in the chest. It was the closest part of him.
“Good girl.” Doolittle exhaled. “Well done.”
I wiped tears from my eyes and saw Ascanio. He stared at me. His eyes were huge and terrified.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” Doolittle told him. “Don’t get bitten. Bring the meat from the refrigerator. Andrea needs to eat.”
It’s amazing how much good a sandwich, or three, can do for you. My head had stopped spinning and I no longer felt like my legs wouldn’t support me. I eyed the dwindling ham, from which Julie had carved the meat for my sandwiches. No more food would physically fit into my stomach, but I was still hungry.
Doolittle set a small plastic box down in front of me and flipped open the top. Six small ampoules in a neat row.
“Antivenom,” he said and showed me a gun-looking object. “One ampoule goes in here. Once you hear a click, press it against the skin and pull the trigger. Not for use on humans. It is in the form of a gun, so you should have no difficulties using it.”
An antivenom gun—load, press, squeeze the trigger. Okay, I could do that.
“Unfortunately, that is all I can do until I know more,” Doolittle said. He leaned closer and looked into my eyes. “I strongly advise against any physical activity for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Nothing strenuous. No sexual relations, no running, and no fighting. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly.”
“I’m not naive enough to think that you’ll heed my advice.”
“I solemnly swear to heed at least one-third of it. No sexual relations won’t be a problem.”
Barabas laughed under his breath.
Doolittle shook his head. “Should you feel faint, you will take another dose of antivenom and you will lie down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Doolittle shook his head again and went to pack up his tools. Barabas stepped into his place and leaned against my desk, his arms folded over his chest. “As your attorney, I’m forced to advise you to stay away from that crime scene. We both know you won’t, but if you get caught, there will be repercussions.”
“Thank you for the warning.” Now I had advice from both a doctor and a lawyer. I tried to fight a yawn, but it won. “I’ll definitely take it under consideration.”
I had to go back to the scene. Everyone in the room knew it.
“Also, you won’t like hearing this, but as a lawyer, I’m used to that. Your position with the Pack is muddy. This makes things a hell of a lot more complicated than they have to be. Sort yourself out.”
Settle things with the woman who sent two boudas to beat the crap out of me. Right.
Barabas looked at Julie. “Please get your bag. We’re going back to the Keep.”