Broken (Otherworld 6)

"Off--?" I sputtered. "What will have to come off?"

I knew the answer, but my brain refused to process it. That couldn't be what they meant, not with Clay so calm and decisive, as if they were discussing cutting off his hair.

"And even that might not work," Jeremy said, his gaze locked with Clay's.

"Are we talking about--?" My voice squeaked and I couldn't finish the sentence. "From a scratch? It's just a scratch!"

Clay reached for me, but I backed away.

"That is what we're talking about, right?" I said. "Losing his arm? Losing his--his life?"

"No, no," Jeremy said, coming toward me, face stricken. "I didn't mean--"

I turned to face Tolliver. "That is what they mean, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Clay said, pushing himself up. "That's what we mean, darling. Jeremy's talking worst-case scenario, just so I know what could happen. It's me he's trying to spook, not you."

Jeremy waved me over to sit down. "I didn't mean to scare you. You don't need that, not now. I'm sorry. I only wanted--"

"It's okay," I cut in, cheeks heating. "Of course, I know that could happen with a bad infection. Amputation, I mean. But I didn't think--everything seemed fine--"

"It will be fine," Clay said. "If antibiotics can still fix this, then I want to let it play out a bit longer. Keep an eye on it. If things get worse? I'll take the surgery. I lose some function? I'll compensate. But unless we're at a critical stage already, I don't want to jump into that."

He glanced at Jeremy, waiting for his verdict, but Tolliver beat him to it.

"It's not critical yet. I'll dress it and give you some antibiotics. If that doesn't clear it up in twenty-four hours, we'll move to debridement--removing the damaged tissue."

We looked over at Jeremy. He hesitated, then nodded.

"Good," Clay said. "Let's get me cleaned up, dosed up and ready to go."

When Tolliver finished, he checked Clay's temperature.

"The Tylenol seems to have knocked the fever," he said. "At the very least, the antibiotics should slow the infection." He glanced at Jeremy. "Is that normal? For your kind? Susceptibility to infection or swift progression once it sets in? I know accelerated healing is a hallmark--"

He cut himself off. Jeremy stayed stone-faced.

Tolliver started repacking his bag. Without looking up, he continued. "I should probably keep my mouth shut and pretend I haven't figured out what you are. But as a doctor, it would help to know what I'm dealing with." Before anyone could answer, he shook his head. "No, I do know what I'm dealing with, so I'm going to take the chance and admit it. After I saw you with Zoe the other day, I had my suspicions. I've...heard things. I made some inquiries, more to confirm the council connection than to confirm who--or what--you were."

"Accelerated infection isn't normal for us," Jeremy said.

"It's connected to the zombie then. I don't have any experience with their kind, and my experience with werewolves isn't much broader. I ran into one of you a few years back, in Europe, and helped him recover from an injury...though it wasn't help freely given."

"I hope you know it's not like that this time," Jeremy said. "If Zoe gave that impression--"

"She didn't."

"I fully intend to pay you for your time, as much as you'd charge for any emergency call, and whatever extra is appropriate for asking you to be available, on call, should the problem worsen."

Tolliver shook his head and hefted his bag onto the bed. "That's not necessary. I know you're trying to fix this portal mess, so consider this my contribution to the cause."

He fingered the straps on his bag. "I may be able to do more. I would have called later today. I have an idea where Patrick is hiding."

"Where?"

"I'd prefer to check it out myself. Patrick and I may not be close these days, but I still consider him a friend. If he's going to be brought in for questioning, I'd like to do it myself."

We looked at each other.