Shapeshifted (Edie Spence 3)

“Don’t do it!” Catrina warned me.

I ignored her and opened up the car door, glad to find it was someone I didn’t know. With the help of the overhead car light, I could see a young Latino man with three cross tattoos on the visible side of his neck. He was prone on the sidewalk, and the rain was washing his blood away.

“Oh, God. ” I reached for my phone. I didn’t know where we were, but Catrina did. I handed my phone to her. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them someone’s been shot. ”

Maybe I should have pre-reported our arrival here, seeing as gunfire was almost a given. This kid was technically a bad guy—but we were the ones who’d come in asking for trouble. I couldn’t just watch him die.

Hector was a doctor—he had to have a first-aid kit in his car somewhere. All self-respecting doctors did. I reached and felt under the chairs, found nothing, then hopped into the driver’s seat to pull the lever for the trunk. A spare tire, the tire iron and duct tape from last night, and lastly a paper bag full of medical supplies. I looked inside it as the rain pelted the bag and started soaking the equipment inside.

What good was gauze going to do right now? Not very damn much, in this fucking rain. I took it back to the prone man.

“Where did you get hit?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He was far away from the compound—I assumed he’d run this whole way. Or maybe crawled. I pushed him so he was on his back, and tried to look him over. There was a welt on his arm. I unspooled a roll of gauze, lassoed it around his armpit, and tied it tight. Until I could figure out where he was bleeding, I was going to cut off blood flow to all his extremities on principle.

His shirt was full of holes. The crosses hadn’t protected him from anyone but Luz—and even that was iffy. I started when I thought I’d found a gun—but it was just the outline of a gun, tattooed on his stomach, roughly done. This kid wasn’t much older than Olympio was. Jesus.

“Hey!” I shouted at him, shaking him. He groaned. I could feel a pulse at his neck. “Help is coming, okay? Just hang on. ”

I went through his limbs more systematically now, looking for holes in the fabric in addition to blood, and undid one arm and a leg. Then I planted the rest of the gummed-up gauze over a wound on his thigh. I hoped it wasn’t his femoral—I didn’t think I was strong enough to haul him into Hector’s car.

There was another burst of gunfire. “Edie!” Catrina shouted at me.

“Hang on. I’m almost done, okay?” I wasn’t sure whom I was addressing, him or her.

“Edie—Edie?” Catrina made a question of my name, and I turned around. “I think I got shot. ”

She was still crouched behind the seats, but she was holding her side. “Oh, God—can you lie down on the backseat? Lie down right now. ” I tied down the dressing on the gangbanger’s leg, and took my soggy bag of gauze back into the car. “Shit shit shit—where?”

“Here. ” It was the side of her stomach—could be a flesh wound, could be halfway to peritonitis.

“Okay. I want you to lie still. ” I opened up as much gauze as I could. “Is there an exit wound?” I slid my hand under her back to feel for any other, potentially worse, openings. Finding none, I shoved all the gauze into the bleeding spot on her stomach. “Shit. Catrina—hold this here, okay?” I fished my phone out of my pocket with bloody hands. Not that now was a great time to text Asher, but he had the fucking car keys and I didn’t know what else to do. Emergency vehicles should already be on their way. Should.

“How did it happen? I was being careful. ” She was gritting her teeth from the pain. I wondered where the bullet had wound up inside her. God-fucking-dammit. If anyone should have gotten hit, it was me, gallivanting around outside.

“What have you done?” Luz was outside, standing in the rain, looking at the bleeding man. Her eyes went wide when she saw Catrina.

“Did you find her?” Catrina reached a red hand out.

“No. She wasn’t there—” Luz looked between the gangbanger and Catrina and made an assumption. She put her foot on his tattooed neck.

“No! He didn’t shoot her!” I yelled into the rain.

“So?” Luz yelled back. “He’s one of them!”

“Tell her he didn’t hurt you, Catrina!” I sank down to her level inside the car. “Tell her!”

Catrina’s eyes narrowed. It was clear she didn’t want to care.

“Catrina—” I begged.

“Reina—don’t,” Catina whispered.

“Bah!” Luz kicked the man and knelt down, holding his eyelids up with her thumbs and looking into his eyes. He woke up then, when he hadn’t before. Seeing her looming over him, he started to talk—I assumed she was using her glamour on him. She reached for the bandage I’d placed on his leg and pulled it aside. “He doesn’t know where she is. He says he’s never seen her. Let him bleed to death like he deserves to. ” I reached out and fought her for control of his leg. “Whose side are you on?” she yelled at me, fangs out.

“The side where no one dies!”

Luz rocked back on her heels and laughed at me. “It is too late for that. ”

Acid flushed through my stomach. “Where’s Hector and Ti?”

She smiled, showing fang. “Your zombie friend makes a very effective human shield. They’re slower than me, but I think they’re fine. ”

“And she wasn’t there?” I asked again.

“No. All this, for nothing. And Catrina shot. ” Luz looked into the car where Catrina was. I couldn’t read what was written in her eyes. “I wanted to save one person. That’s it. Just one. The rest of the world can go fuck itself, if I can save this one. And they still keep her from me. There was a pile of bones there—but no girl. ”

“I’m sorry, Luz. ” I didn’t know what else to say.