Free Obfuscate by Killion Slade Page B

seem almost human. Glowing vermillion, an intense fire filled them with hatred.
    I froze, cemented to the ground.
    His eyes met mine once again. They were wide and conscious. At that moment, I emblazoned his image forever on my soul. It was the Red Man from my nightmares.
    He seized me by the hair, and his hands stretched my neck in an unnatural arc to the left.
    All I could do was watch him in paralytic horror, my heart pounding out of my chest. Black dots clouded my vision. He held my neck on display, his bountiful banquet awaiting him.
    I watched as he licked his lips. He tenderly lavished my neck, stroking it, kissing it, basking in his sumptuous feast. His eyes danced time with the throbbing artery pulsing viciously under my skin.
    “911—is this an emergency?” The voice from the phone came just in time to hear the devil sink his teeth deep into my neck and attenuate the life force out of me.
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    “ W e’re losing him ! We need a dragon donor for adrenaline, or he’s not going to make it.”
    I awoke to the anxious voice of the physician treating us at Phuket Hospital. My heart skipped a beat as I listened to Dr. Rattanakosin behind the hanging sheet between our hospital beds.
    I tried to sit up, but the silver embedded in my skin had weakened me to the point of exhaustion. We were still in critical condition, even though we had been in the hospital for close to sixteen hours treating each of our specific injuries. Thankfully, my vision had fully returned after I had been given several pints of whole human blood. My head continued to ache from the silver poisoning, and I prayed the dreaded metal hangover would subside soon enough.
    I croaked out words to the closed curtain. “Can Torchy donate the adrenaline?”
    The curtain inched aside and revealed the doctor who had been treating all of us. Dr. Rattanakosin peered at me through his pop-bottle eyeglasses. His brown eyes were magnified as if they were four inches wide, and his eyebrows bushed out over the top rims. Some of the hairs over three inches long. The doctor opened the flimsy privacy curtain farther.
    I urged on his curiosity. “It’s true. The gentleman who brought us in here is another dragon. Can he donate, or do you need a family donor?”
    The doctor nodded at his nurse. “See if you can locate Mr. Gravenor.”
    Briggs moaned, grinding his teeth against the pain. He looked terrible lying in the fetal position with his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenched. His labored breathing spewed thick spittle across his lips. The bleeding had slowed from his abdomen, but his color was awful. He was beginning to turn shades of green.
    “Can you give him something to help him change into his dragon form, so he can heal himself?” I asked the doctor.
    “I’m afraid it isn’t that easy, Miss O’Cuinn. You see, he has been gouged with a dragon scythe. These are elusive, magical blades. I’ve never seen one until tonight, but I’ve read about them in my medical journals.”
    “What does that mean? That the scythe blade took away his ability to shift?” I heard Harris ask from across the room. His voice thick and labored since his lips were swollen.
    “What it means is that the magical scythe has damaged his internal energy core vortex, which impairs the power source needed to transform. The injury looks to be remarkably precise. The creature who wielded this weapon knew exactly where to make the blow. Until Mr. Briggs has renewed strength, he cannot complete his healing. We have stopped most of the bleeding, but we need the dragon adrenaline to help him overcome the fatal damage of that magical blade.”
    Briggs bunched up his fists to combat the pain. Utterly helpless to take away his agony, he never would’ve been in this situation if it weren’t for Dakota.
    “Can’t you give him something for the pain?”
    Dr. Rattanakosin replied, “We’ve maxed out the morphine dosages for him. His body is burning through it and is unable to provide