“Is everything all right?” I ask her as soon as I finish washing my hands and retrieve my stethoscope.
She shuts her eyes for a moment then takes a deep breath and levels her blue gaze on me. “I-I’m not crazy.”
“I know you’re not.” Pressing the stethoscope to her chest, I count her heartbeats as I watch the clock on the wall, grateful when her heart rate is a perfectly normal seventy-two beats per minute.
“Then what I saw tonight—” She trails off, and I step back, meeting her gaze. She’s searching for an answer, and since Fearghas is on his way here to fix it, I decide it’s better to go ahead and give her one.
“What you saw tonight was three vampires out to punish another. You and your place fell into the middle of that fight.”
“V-v-vampire?”
I nod.
“Tarnley—”
“Yes. Though, he’s a good one.”
She shakes her head and presses both palms to the sides of her face. “This cannot be seriously happening.”
“Unfortunately, it is.”
“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. Can I?”
With a sigh, I set my stethoscope down on the tray beside the bed then raise my left arm. Violet magic swirls around my forearm, slipping down to my fingertips. Waving my hand, I manage to create some static energy. It sizzles and snaps in front of us, and Deissy’s eyes widen.
“Oh my gosh.”
“I am a witch. The detective who was in here earlier? She’s a hunter.”
“A hunter?”
“She kills rogue supernaturals.”
“You’re telling me that there’s a secret supernatural underbelly in Billings?”
“There is.”
“Oh my gosh. This is, this is insane.” Her expression transforms from one of fear to an almost wary form of excitement. “I’m not dreaming? Hallucinating?”
“No.”
Realization dawns on her. “Tarnley appeared out of nowhere when my ex was attacking me. Did he—did he shift into a bat or something?”
Totally unable to stop myself, I snort then immediately cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “Sorry.”
Deissy’s cheeks flush. “I’m assuming vampires cannot shapeshift into bats.”
“No, no they cannot. But they do move freakishly fast; they might as well be flying.”
“So that’s how he got to me.”
“Yes.” I cover her hand with my own and meet her gaze. “Tarnley is a good man. He would never hurt you.”
“I know that,” she admits. “I just… you don’t see someone get their throat ripped out every day. Or maybe you do?”
“It’s definitely been far more frequent these days.”
“How do you unsee something like that?” Her body begins to shake, the adrenaline wearing off, so I step over to the blanket warmer Winnie filled, pull one out, and then wrap it around her shoulders.