Page 61 of Gunslinger Girl

She could only hope her own belief in them would come later.

“A few more,” said Dr. Starr. “Keep still.”

On the rigid exam bed, Pity lay on her stomach, a towel draped over her bare hips. The wound had been cold fire by the time Santino got her to the clinic, but thanks to an injection from Starr, the pain had receded to a dull, warm throb. Still, with each new stitch, each pull of the thread, Pity squeezed Santino’s broad hand tighter.

“You’re almost done, chica.” He chuckled. “You’ve been blown up and shot at, and look at you—green over a few stitches.”

Pity gritted her teeth, trying to lose the sensation to the narcotic tide. “It feels weird.”

“Not as bad as getting shot.”

“Or getting blown up.” She looked into Santino’s golden-brown eyes. “How many times are you gonna have to get me fixed up?”

“No sé. Seems like you’ve got nine lives.”

“I think I’m down a few.”

Santino chuckled again. “Any gunfight you make it to the end of is a good one. I’m starting to think Beau underestimated you. Seems to me you’d be a good hand to keep nearby.”

“And here I was thinking how much nicer it is to shoot when you’re not being shot at.”

“Still, if you ever get tired of the Theatre, say the word and I’ll see what we can do.”

Pity shifted, uncomfortable with the path of thought the offer led her down.

I killed two men.

Two.

Only two.

She winced as Starr made another stitch, and changed the subject. “Beau, he… Are he and Selene…?”

“It’s no secret. Money and power can command good protection. But you want the best? There’s no better safeguard than someone who is willing to die to keep you breathing.” He sighed dramatically. “May we all find un hombre who cares that much, yeah?”

“There,” announced Starr. “A little bandaging and you’ll be good to go. Try to stay off it for a couple of days, but you can use a crutch if you’re—”

“Pity!” Luster barreled into the clinic, a satin robe fluttering about her diminutive frame. “Are you okay? Oh, my Lord—you’re shot!”

“She’ll live.” Starr finished the bandaging. “These, however, will not.” He tossed the bloody remains of Pity’s pants into the garbage.

“I liked those, too.” Her body felt thick and heavy as she cautiously pushed herself into a sitting position. “I’m okay, really. Just peachy. The men that attacked us, though…” She giggled, unable to help herself.

Luster blinked and turned to Starr. “What’d ya give her?”

“Nothing that won’t wear off in a few hours. When it starts to hurt again, she can take one or two of these.” He put a glass vial of white pills on the exam table. “For Pity, got it? None of these better end up in with your—ahem—party supplies.”

“Oh, shush,” snapped Luster. “What happened? One of the Tin Men came and woke me, but he wouldn’t say—”

“Assassins. They were after Selene. We… we stopped them.” Suddenly, Pity’s eyes filled with tears. She wiped them away, frustrated. “It’s not funny. I don’t know why I laughed.”

“Oh, honey.” Luster’s arms enveloped her. “You’re just a little messed up right now. What kind of fools would go after Miss Selene like that?”

“Dead fools,” Santino filled in.

“Speaking of which,” said Starr, his black bag in hand. “I need to give Miss Selene a look over and then… see to a few other things.” He tossed a bone saw into his kit.

“Yo también,” said Santino, rising. “There’s a living fool still left to attend to.”