Blood of a Werewolf (19 page)

Chapter 13

Devon was overwhelmed.
 
Doctors and nurses everywhere were asking him questions he didn’t know how to answer.
 
When they asked him about the red serum and what it was, he pleaded ignorance. Who would believe him if he told them it was werewolf blood? He couldn’t quite believe it himself.
 
All he told them was that the red serum was what she had been injected with. He didn’t know what it was or where it came from.
 
What else could he say?
 

And then there was the crazy conversation he’d had with Darby. Why did she want to have Blake come to her?
 
Why not him? After all, Blake was Rowan’s boyfriend; Devon should be with Darby, not Blake.

The doctors and nurses continued to pelt him with questions.
 
How are you related to the young woman?
 
Does she have any relatives we should contact?
 
Does she have any allergies to medicines? What kind of insurance does she have?
 

Dear Lord
, he wanted to scream, when in walked Blake.
 
Whew!
he thought.
 

“Blake, where’s Darby?
 
The doctors need to know some information from her as she is the only living relative.”

The look he saw on Blake’s face threw him into a panic.
 
Blake put both of his hands on his brother’s shoulders and held him upright as he told him, “I just had her admitted downstairs.
 
They are taking her to Emergency.”

“What happened?”

Blake looked around at all the people in the room, who were now staring. He led his brother into the hallway to get some privacy.

“I’m not exactly sure, Devon.
 
When I got there she looked awful.
 
Her face was pale, her nose and ears were bleeding, and she had obviously overdone the bubble thing, as she was on the floor.
 
I must have gotten there right when it happened because Paine was just taking aim with the gun.
 

“A gun? I knew we shouldn’t have left her there alone. What if you hadn’t gotten there in time? Oh my God,” Devon said.

“But I did get there in time.
 
She held that bubble on him for an hour, hour and a half – full force.
 
That’s amazing, but it must have been a huge drain.”

“Oh my God,” Devon said shaking his head in disbelief.
 

Blake thought Devon was going to hit the floor and said, “Don’t you dare, man! I can’t deal with this all by myself!”

“Yeah, I’m sorry!
 
Where is she again?”

“She’s in Emergency, but they were trying to get her in for a CAT scan.
 
Take the elevator down to the first floor.
 
Turn right as you come out of the elevator and follow the long hall to the end. It dead-ends at Emergency.
 
I’ll stay here with Rowan.
 
Have they told you anything about her condition?”

“No.
 
I’m not sure they know.
 
They keep asking what the red stuff is. I just told them I have no idea what it is, but I know that they were injecting Rowan with it.
 
I mean, how do I tell someone that it’s werewolf blood? They’d have me in one of these rooms strapped to a bed in the psych ward.”
 

“Yeah, we can’t have that.
 
Okay, you go find Darby and once they get her in a room or they know more, come and find me.
 
Okay?”

Devon nodded and ran for the elevator and Blake turned around and went back into Rowan’s room. He introduced himself as her fiancé to prevent them from telling him to leave because he was not a family member.
 
He told them her sister, too, was admitted and that Darby was Rowan’s only living relative.
 
He also told them that Darby was allergic to bees, but nothing else that he knew of.

The hovering of doctors and nurses slowed down and he was finally alone with Rowan.
 
He was sitting in the chair next to her, chin on her bed, holding her hand. He was tired, scared, and worried. He thought about all the things that had happened today, but worst of all, he thought about losing Rowan.

Devon flew down the hallway, just about taking out a candy striper as she came around a corner. “Sorry, so sorry!” he said and continued down the hall to the emergency room.
 
He went to the front desk and said, “Can you help me? I’m looking for Darby O’Rielly.
 
My brother just admitted her.”

“What relation are you to the patient?”
 
the nurse said.

“I’m her boyfriend,” Devon answered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but only family members can see the patients.”
 

“Her only family is upstairs unconscious.
 
If I told you I was her fiancé, would that make a difference?”

“Yes, sir, it would.
 
Are you her fiancé?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”
 

“Then follow me, sir.”

“Okay.
 
Can you tell me anything about her condition?
 
Is she all right?”

“I can’t tell you anything. The doctor will talk to you soon, but in the meantime you can sit with her here.”

“My brother said they wanted to do a CAT scan. Have they done that yet?”
 

“No, sir, I don’t believe they have, but I do think she is being prepped for that.”

She walked him to a large room with lots of curtains. Presumably, there were beds and patients behind them.
 
When they came to the last one on the left, the nurse pulled back the curtain and there was his Darby.
 
Pale white and eyes closed.
 

The nurse said, “An orderly will be in soon to take her for the CAT scan.
 
If you like you can go with her.”

“Yes, thank you! I would like that.”

“Later the doctor will be in to talk to you.” She smiled and closed the curtain and he sat on a chair next to the bed.
 
He took her fragile hand in his and kissed it and held it to his cheek.

“Come on, Love! Wake up. It’s me, Devon, Sweetie!”
 
He whispered to her sweetly, “I love you, Darby! Please don’t leave me!”

After a couple of minutes, the orderly came in and wheeled the whole bed out of the room, grabbing her chart, then setting it next to Darby’s feet. He looked at Devon with a smile, and said, “You’re welcome to come, if you like.”
 

“Thanks, I would,” Devon replied.
 
He followed the orderly with the bed down the hall, around a corner, down another hall, and through a couple of doors. Then he started talking to the machine technician. The orderly and the technician moved Darby onto the bed of the CAT scan machine.
 
The technician looked up at Devon and said, “You can hold her hand if you like, it’s okay.”

Devon smiled and put his hand on Darby’s, as the technician finished prepping her.
 
He looked up at Devon and said, “I’m going to go behind this wall and start the machine.
 
You can stay right where you are. It will only take a couple of seconds and she’ll be done.”

“Thanks,” Devon said.

The technician was gone and back in what seemed like a flash.
 
Next thing he knew, the orderly was helping the technician get Darby back on the gurney.
 
Back through a couple of doors, down a hall, around a corner, down another hall, and back behind the little curtain they went.
 
The orderly said, “The doctor will be in to talk to you in a few minutes.”

“Thanks,” Devon said. Then again, he sat down on the little squeaky chair next to Darby’s bed and waited. A nurse came in about every 10 minutes, checked her pupils, blood pressure, and temperature. They’d write something down and tell him the doctor would be in, in a few minutes.
 
Devon was getting hip to this hospital lingo.
 
When the nurse said, ‘The doctor would be in, in a few minutes,’ really that meant the nurse had no clue when the doctor would be in to see him or where the doctor was, for that matter. At least they were all very polite about it.
 

After about an hour, the doctor really did come and Devon had to go through the same array of dumb questions he had already answered about fifty times.
 
What is your relationship with the patient? Does she have any allergies? What was she doing when she went unconscious?
 
To avoid getting strapped to the psych ward gurney, he had opted to tell them that she was meditating when she went unconscious.
 
He couldn’t think of anything else that would tell them she was concentrating very hard for a very long time, without telling them about the bubble and all the psychic stuff going on.

When the doctor was done with his questions he started to give Devon some information.
 
Most of it Devon barely understood. So many medical terms with Latin origins were thrown around the curtained room that he thought of punching the doctor, but he wasn’t sure it would solve anything.

Devon asked, “So in layman’s terms, what’s wrong with her?”

“Well, we’re not sure yet,” the doctor answered.

“Then why didn’t you say that when you came in, instead of all that other stuff?”

“Well, I…”

“Never mind.
 
What’s next?”

“Well, they are setting up a room for her upstairs.
 
We’d like to run some more tests and have an MRI done.”
 

“What’s the difference between the CAT scan we just did, and an MRI?”

“The CAT scan is a quick look for anything large or obvious.
 
Ms. O’Rielly’s CAT scan was clear. An MRI is more like an X-Ray; it will give us a more detailed picture of her brain.
 
I just want to rule out any lesions or abnormalities.
 
I also want to get her on an IV.
 
Hopefully she will wake up soon.
 
The longer she is unconscious, the more we tend to worry about something more serious.”

“When will she have the MRI?”
 

“Later today.
 
You can go with her. You just need to make sure you take off anything you are wearing that’s metal.”

“Okay.”

The doctor scribbled something on the chart, handed it to the nurse and went out the curtain.

Blake sat there as parades of nurses came and went, drawing blood, putting in IVs, and writing on the chart. Rowan couldn’t possibly have any more blood to give.
 
How many tests did they need to run?
 
Still, not one person would tell him how she was.
 
Tests, tests, tests, that’s all he heard the nurses say.
 
He couldn’t possibly remember all the different types of tests or what they told him they were for.
 
All the while, the beautiful, fragile girl lay there unconscious.