Page 1 of Bloodbane

CHAPTER ONE

Forfeit the Win

{ R U B Y }

“What do you mean, you don’t remember ?”

“I’m not sure how I could make it any clearer, Coop.” I raise my shoulder in a weary half-shrug. “I don’t remember you bundling me into your jeep and bringing me back here, or any of the preceding events that made this little medical field trip necessary. And considering the mess you say you found me in, I’d say it’s a miracle that I remember my own name, or yours for that mat— ow! Go easy, Milo!”

I catch my bottom lip between my teeth and bite down as Milo creates a constellation of pain across my face—dabbing a swab over each wound. Trying to ignore the astringent alcohol scent burning my nose, I watch his progress in the mirror hanging opposite me in the small exam room. His steady hand doesn’t hold my attention long. My gaze drifts away to my crimson-stained skin. Most of the cuts are superficial, but the deep gash cutting from my temple down through my left eyebrow is the reason for my concussion-induced memory loss. The neat row of stitches pinching the wound closed matches the color of the bruise growing around my eye.

“Aw, c’mon, Rubes. You’ve gotta remember something .” Cooper’s voice—bordering on a whine now—demands my attention, and I can’t say that I’m not a little grateful for the diversion. “Your memory holes are messing with the paperwork. I need some kind of witness statement, something more than…” He mocks my earlier gesture with an exaggerated shrug.

I roll my eyes and open my mouth, but the snarky retort sitting on the tip of my tongue is silenced as Milo makes a timeout gesture with his blue latex-clad hands. I’m not sure if it’s the scowl on his usually smiling face, or the air of authority that his pristine, white doctor’s coat affords him, but I snap my mouth closed and let Cooper have the last word. For once.

“That’s enough, both of you. Memory loss with head injuries isn’t uncommon, but it’s rarely permanent. You can worry about the paperwork later, Cooper. And as for you…” Milo’s salt-and-pepper hair flops across his forehead as he nods to me. “You got lucky, kid. Real lucky. This could have been a hell of a lot worse.”

“Yeah, I know,” I murmur solemnly.

My fingers trace the edges of the large sterile dressing affixed over my ribs. I can feel just how lucky with every dull ache and sharp sting in my body—an inescapable symphony of pain building from my bruised bones to my split skin. Still, the physical injuries I can handle—I’ve survived worse—the real torture is not being able to remember.

Again.

The thought has the walls closing in, or maybe it’s just old memories pressing out, but the end result is the same: fighting to keep my breathing even as I push off the exam table, too agitated to sit still, lest my demons catch up to me. But my fight or flight response doesn’t account for recent trauma, and my legs buckle the moment my boots touch the floor.

Cooper and Milo rush to grab my arms to steady me.

“Sorry,” I mumble, resolutely ignoring the heat prickling over my cheeks. “Brain injury, you know? Forgot how knees work,” I add blithely, locking the joints in question and waving the supports away.

The hands disappear from my arms, but the concerned bodies they belong to continue to hover nearby.

“Yeah, brain injury ,” Milo echoes sardonically, shaking his head. “I’d say you’ve also forgotten how to ask for help, but we all know you never knew how to begin with.” He shakes his head once more—whether at himself or me, I’m not sure, but my money’s on the latter—then turns to Cooper. “Speaking of injuries, if your, uh, new guest at the station is even half as bad as Ruby, I’ll need to give him a once-over. Can you drop her home and then meet me over there?”

“Can do, Doc.” Cooper shrugs into his puffer jacket and fishes his jeep key from his pocket. “Any special orders for the patient?”

I don’t even try to temper my scowl, bristling at being talked about like I’m no more than a labradoodle needing a lift home after a vet checkup.

“ Hey! Stop talking about me as if I’m not standing right here. I’m fine.” I bite back a groan as I pull the borrowed-but-clean sweatshirt over my head. The tears in my skin and aching muscles scream their objection to every movement. “ Mostly fine ,” I amend under my breath. “And hopefully our guest is as well because I don’t think anyone should enter that cell until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Coop salutes mockingly before wilting under my unimpressed stare. “Okay, yeah, yeah. Got it,” he mutters.

Milo isn’t as quick to fall in line. He never is. I wait until a single reluctant nod signals his agreement before I continue.

“Coop, can you head to the station? Keep an eye on him but keep your distance. Milo, I need you to take me to the lake.”

Milo’s long-suffering sigh is familiar. “Damn it, Ruby. No. You need to go home and rest. You’ve just suffered extreme trauma. Pushing yourself will only make matters worse. You’re incredibly lucky to be alive right now. If Cooper hadn’t found you—” He bites off the rest of the sentence, but the unspoken words sound loud and clear in my head.

“Yeah, I know.” And I do know how close I came to needing a toe tag instead of a sweater, what I don’t know is why. “I will rest, Murph, I promise. But we have to collect the bodies first.”

“Me and Milo can do that after we drop you at home,” Cooper says after a beat, his voice betraying the fact that though he could do it, he very much doesn’t want to.

“My house is in the opposite direction of the lake. Taking me home before heading out would be a waste of time, and this can’t wait. I do remember the storm forecast for today. If we don’t go now, we might lose the bodies to snow or predators, and then we’ll have more problems than just your Swiss cheese paperwork.”

Though Cooper’s relief is evident, his lips twist down. “Nah. You’re in no condition for heavy lifting, Rube.”

“Why do you think I’m taking Milo?” My smile doesn’t convince anyone, least of all me. “Look, the real heavy lifting will come after the bodies are in the freezer, and for that, I need to have my head in the game, and I can’t do that if half my head is missing, metaphorically speaking. I know you said it’s bad, but it can’t be any worse than what I’m imagining. I need to see it. I also need to get my truck,” I add as an afterthought.

The matching set of frowns seems unmoved by my pitch. The stand-off isn’t new, but I don’t have the patience to wait them out today. Willing to forfeit the win and settle for a draw, I offer up the one thing I know will lure them across the line and have them meet me on my side of the middle.

“But after we’re done, I’ll go home, dip myself into a hot bath, and then crawl into bed. I’ll even stay there for a solid twelve hours of nothing but quality, forced R&R. Deal?”

The look that passes between Milo and Cooper can best be described as resigned disapproval, but they both turn toward me and nod, albeit reluctantly.

I clap my hands together, forcing too much brightness into my voice in an attempt to burn away the dark dread coiling in my gut.

“Great! Let’s get going.”