Ivory

TWENTY*

Twenty

I numbly walked through the front door of the Black Star pack house, a guilty feeling gnawing at my stomach.  But it wasn't my guilt, which made it Brettly's. I could care less what he could be feeling guilty about, so I ignored it as best as I could while I walked into the kitchen.

I was surprised that Beth wasn't in the kitchen when I walked in. But I shrugged it off and walked to the fridge. I wasn't until I noticed the spots of blood dotting the white marble floor did the panic settle in.

Why was there blood? Whose blood was it? Why the hell am I still standing here questioning it?

At that moment my wolf started to take over. She wasn't one to sit aside and watch people get hurt, and I wasn't going to stop her. She probably had a better idea of what to do than I ever would. But if she had it her way she would completely shift and tear the house apart trying to find the person who was bleeding, I had to have a little strain on her, which I really hated.

We followed the blood trail through the back door of the kitchen and down a corridor that only the servants would use, which meant I used it before and Beth used it now.

Oh dear gods. Please let it not be Beth. Please, please, please!

I continued walking down the dark hall, following the scent of the blood, and walked down the staircase that led to the dungeons. There were two ways to get down there, either the main hallway which had its own entrance or the one attached to the kitchen where the servant would take the prisoners their food. There were always prisoners in the dungeon, no matter the numbers.

I walked down the creaking wooden stairs, and I thought, when I was younger that if a prisoner really wanted to escape they would just have to burn down one staircase and then while the guards were busy with that one they would escape through the other. But what scared about that was that the stair case I used to use to get to my room was in that hall too, so they may burn that one and then I would die. And those were my happy thoughts.

The stone floor was cold against my bare feet (yeah, I had a bad habit of not wearing shoes in recent years). The scent if the blood mixed with the musty, moldy and the smell of blood that was already there from all the people who had bled out and died here. Oh, if we had a ghost whisperer werewolf the things that they would see.

Anyways, the trail led to the on the far right corner of the room and I heard a distinct gargle before I recognised the scent.

Shit! Mother fuckin' shit!!! (Pardon my French)

I ran the rest of the way and there, laying in the fetal position on the floor was Beth, blood oozing from between her arms, which were folded over her middle. My gut twisted as I rushed to her. As gently as I could I rolled her over and removed her arms from the wound. Her shirt and pants were absolutely drenched with blood and I felt the panic rising in my throat.

There wasn't supposed to be this much blood. No matter how weak her wolf may be, there should definitely not be this much blood.

Double fuckin' shit!

My mind tried to find a solution and the only one I could get to was absolutely not good. As limited as they may be, I could heal people, but I had never tried it with a silver wound before.

But what other option did I have?

Gingerly I placed both my hands so that they were hovering over the wound and thought healing thoughts. Yeah. Healing thoughts and all that BS. Honestly, I didn't see this working. But slowly a soft gold glow illuminated from my palms and slowly the blood stopped flowing.