RESTLESS SPIRITS ▷ ELLIE WILLIAMS

CHAPTER FOUR: NOT ALL MEN WERE MADE TO FALL (ONLY THE BEST OF US)

Inside, the Lookout was pristine, almost too clean. Every surface looked spotless, every paper stacked and clipped together on the center desk. Even the maps were folded, and the compass faced north.

Marlowe pushed off a few documents from the small kitchenette, and Ellie pulled herself onto the spare counter with a groan. Pain splintered through her shoulder and arm. Each breath she took felt like it was being ripped from her chest. She prayed she hadn't dislocated or broken anything in her fall.

She hadn't gone scratch free either, as Ellie noticed beads of blood stain on her left coat sleeve. Peeling the hoodie off, Ellie shivered and then looked down, seeing the growing stain on the blue button-down she wore. Despite being indoors, the frigid air seeped through the windows and cracks in the wooden walls. Marlowe swung her bag off her body and onto the small table in the middle of the room.

"Has your brother always been this organized?" Ellie asked, grimacing as another wave of pain shot up her arm. Marlowe opened one cabinet and looked through the contents.

"Yes, shockingly."

There was a shuffle of paper as the copper-haired woman pushed around the cabinet's contents until she found what she was looking for. Marlowe set a plastic container with a large Red Cross on the counter next to Ellie. The stack of papers next to Ellie read something about fire procedures. A printed image of a stick figure in the article's corner gave visual aids to each instruction. But, with the snow that covered the ground outside, Ellie was sure they would be of little use now.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted, looking back at Marlowe,

"You're bleeding through your shirt, Ellie,"

"It's nothing. I've been through worse."

Marlowe looked back at her with a tight-lipped smile. "Congrats. But Evelyn sees that she'll have my hide. So let me clean it and bandage it, and we'll be on our way, okay?"

Pushing open the first aid kit, Marlowe rummaged through it and, with a heavy sigh, closed it again. The kit was out of the larger bandages and alcohol wipes, and Seeley hadn't restocked it. That was odd. Grabbing her bag, Marlowe pulled out some gauze, medical tape, and a small cantine of saline. Everything smelled new, something clean in a world that felt so dirty. Then, examining Ellie's hushed figure, she noticed the blossom of blood pooling at her shoulder. More challenging to reach.

"Are you wearing anything underneath your shirt?" Marlowe practically tripped over her words in a rush to say them.

Ellie arched an eyebrow, a coy smile playing on her lips, "Are you asking me to undress, Walsh?" She quipped,

Marlowe set her jaw, trying to shove down the heat that burned her cheeks.

"I'm asking you to show me your shoulder,"

One by one, Ellie's stiff fingers undid the buttons on her shirt until she could tug the fabric away from her right shoulder. Though it wasn't entirely enough, a part of the wound was still covered by her shirt.

"Could you take your arm out of your sleeve, please?" Marlowe asked, peering over at her.

Ellie paused, her body tensing. Her right hand flexed and released as she worked through the scenario in her mind. Even under her ink, the old bite mark still burned her forearm. No amount of art or ink could erase the wound from her. Ellie thought back to Dina and Jackson, to everyone she had managed to fool, but they didn't have reason to know, and Ellie didn't give them one. Even when Ellie had told Dina the truth on a youthful escapade, trying to chase a high on stale weed, she had still scoffed and called her a liar.