Not Tohr, it wasn't Tohr, not Tohr. . . Dearest Virgin Scribe, thank you -
But Wrath - not the king!
Time became as a rubber band, stretching endlessly, the passing minutes slowing down to a crawl as people from the household began to arrive - except then suddenly, a terminal extension was reached and snap! everything became a blur.
Doc Jane and the healer Manuel flew out from the examining room, a rolling gurney between them, a black duffel bag with a red cross jangling off the male's shoulder. Ehlena was right with them, with more equipment in her hands. And so was the queen.
No'One whispered down the hall in their wake, running on the balls of her leather slippers, catching the heavy steel door that led out into the parking lot and squeezing through before it closed. At the curb, a van with blackened windows screeched to a halt, steam curling up from its tailpipe.
Voices - harried and deep - fought for airspace as the vehicle's rear doors were popped wide and Manuel the healer jumped inside.
Then Tohr got out.
No'One gasped. He was covered with blood, his hands, his chest, his leathers, everything stained red. Except he seemed otherwise all right. It had to be Wrath's.
Dearest Virgin Scribe, the king -
"Beth! Get in here," Manuel hollared. "Now. "
After Tohr helped the queen inside, he stood by the open doors with his hands on his hips, his chest rising and falling fast, his bleak stare trained on the treatment of the king. No'One, meanwhile, loitered on the periphery, waiting and praying, her eyes going back and forth from Tohr's horrible, fixed expression to the dark recesses of the van. All she saw of the king were his boots, tough, thick soled, and black, the tread on them deep enough to make grooves in set concrete - at least when a male as great as he was wearing them.
Would that he would walk tall once again.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she wished she was a Chosen, a sacred female who had a line to the Scribe Virgin, some way of approaching the mother of the race for special dispensation. But she was no one like that.
All she could do was wait with the ring of others who had formed by the van. . . .
There was no way of knowing how long they worked upon the king in that vehicle. Hours. Days. But eventually Ehlena repositioned the gurney as close as possible and Tohr hopped back in the rear.
Wrath was carried forth by his loyal Brother and laid out flat upon the white-sheeted mattress - which would not stay so pure for long, she feared, as she measured the king's neck: Red was already seeping through layers of gauze at the side.
Time was of the essence - but before they could roll him inside, the great male grabbed onto Tohr's ruined shirt and then started motioning to his throat. Abruptly he made a fist, and then opened his palm upward as if he were holding something.
Tohr nodded, and looked at the doctors. "You need to try to take the bullet out. We have to have that thing - it's the only way we're going to be able to prove who did this. "
"What if it compromises his life?" Manuel asked.
Wrath started shaking his head and pointing again, but the queen overruled him. "Then you will leave it right where it is. " As her mate glared at her, she shrugged. "Sorry, my hellren. I'm sure your Brothers will agree - you need to survive first and foremost. "
"That's right," Tohr growled. "The lead is less important - besides, we already know who's to blame. "
Wrath started working his mouth - except there was no speaking, because. . . there was a tube sticking out of his throat?
"Good, glad that's settled," Tohr muttered. "Have at him, will you?"
The healers nodded and off they all went with the king, the queen staying right with her male, speaking to him in soft, urgent tones as she jogged alongside. Indeed, as they passed through the doors into the training center, Wrath's eyes, pale green and glowing, were locked, but unfocused, on her face.
She was keeping him alive, No'One thought. That connection between the two of them sustaining him just as much as anything that the physicians were doing. . . .
Tohr, meanwhile, also stayed with his leader, passing by without even looking at her.
She didn't blame him. How could he see anything else?
Reentering the corridor, she wondered if she shouldn't try to get back to work. But no, there was no possibility of that.
She just followed the group down until the whole lot of them, including Tohr, disappeared into the operating room. Not daring to intrude, she tarried outside.
It was not long before she was joined by the rest of the Brotherhood.