Free Boreal and John Grey Season 1 by Chrystalla Thoma

out.
    Her medic kit was under her seat; standard supplies. She grabbed the antiseptic spray and cleaned out the cuts. He’d need stitches, but butterfly bandages would have to do for now. She patted the wounds dry with clean gauze, then forced her hands to stop shaking and tore the package, fishing out the bandages. Applying them was tricky as the gashes were parallel and quite close to each other. Each cut took two Steri-strips to stay closed, and then, to her relief, the hemorrhage finally slowed.
    Sitting back, she packed gauze on top of everything and taped it in place. Then she pulled down the shirt and buckled Finn in. Tried to organize her thoughts. Stared at the blood staining the car seat, the crimson painting her hands, and Finn’s slack face.
    The hospital . He’d need antibiotics, maybe even a transfusion.
    Feeling better for having a goal, heart thudding against her breastbone, she executed a perfectly illegal U-turn and stepped on the gas. She sped back the way they’d come, not seeing anything but the road ahead, then drove down Brisbane Avenue toward the closest medical center. Everything would be okay. She only had to take him there—
    Finn mumbled something. A glance showed her his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. Was he waking up?
    “Finn?”
    He blinked, pale lashes lifting to reveal slivers of blue. Good sign .
    “Hey, can you hear me?” He didn’t seem to focus. “Grunt once for yes, twice for no, okay?”
    He groaned. Was that a yes? Then he tried to sit up and she threw out a hand to stop him. “Stay down. Are you hurt anywhere else, somewhere I can’t see? Your stomach? Your back?” She waited, but Finn only managed to look pissed, even lying there like that. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”
    Finn fumbled for the lever and pulled the back of his seat upright. His face paled alarmingly and he grimaced.
    “What are you doing? You’ll start bleeding again.”
    “I’m fine,” he rasped, swaying. His head dipped forward.
    “Sure you are.” She put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You passed out. We’re going to the hospital.”
    “No hospital.” He pushed her hand off, the stubborn bastard.
    “Damn you,” she muttered. “I won’t let you die because of some stupid notion of macho I-don’t-know-what. When you need help, you accept it, okay?”
     “No hospital,” he repeated, panic in his eyes, and dammit all if he didn’t unbuckle himself and try to open his door as they moved at 70 miles an hour.
    She grabbed his arm again and hoped to hell it wasn’t broken. “Don’t you dare. I fought three Shades to save your ass. You have to get yourself checked out. Those cuts could get infected.”
    “I’m okay.”
    “ ‘Okay’ as in ‘not dead yet’ ?” The silence stretched, but at least he wasn’t trying to jump out of a moving car anymore. Good, because she really needed to keep an eye on the road as well. “Are you concerned about your lack of papers? Or money? I’ll take care of that. You’ll be okay.”
    “No.”
    An ice-cream parlor flashed with festive, multicolored lights. She parked outside and turned to him. “Finn...”
    “Please,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I just need a place to sleep tonight. Anywhere.”
    “God, Finn...” Her head pounded. “I didn’t save you from the Shades to let you die of blood loss or infection, do you understand?”
    He nodded, still not looking at her. “No dying. Understood.”
    That made her smile in spite of herself. She sighed. “Okay. You’re crashing at my place, so I can still drive you to a doctor if you get worse overnight.”
    “Not your place.”
    “Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
    “The Shades...”
    “My place has full charm protection.” She tsked. “And the Shades are after me, too, so it won’t make any difference if you sleep out on the sidewalk, okay? So, my place, take it or leave it.”
    He said nothing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Then he nodded