Page 63 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)
SIXTY-THREE
T he harsh fluorescent lights of Whispering Pines Medical Center cast everything in a sterile, unforgiving glow. Warrick sat rigid in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside Molly’s bed, his large hand engulfing her smaller one. Her skin felt cool to the touch—too cool for his liking. The steady beep of monitors provided the only sound in the otherwise silent room.
Molly lay unconscious, her vibrant curls splayed across the white hospital pillow in stark contrast. The emerald dress had been replaced with a pale blue hospital gown that made her look smaller, more vulnerable. Fresh bandages covered the wound on her temple, stark white against her skin. Her right shoulder, dislocated and now reset, rested immobilized in a proper medical sling.
The doctors had spoken in hushed, concerned tones about internal bleeding, about the head injury being more severe than initially assessed. Words like “swelling” and “pressure” had filtered through Warrick’s fog of worry. They’d taken her for scans immediately upon arrival, rushing her through doors where even his intimidating presence couldn’t follow.
Now she lay motionless, her usually expressive face still. Too still.
Warrick’s thumb traced circles on the back of her hand, his golden eyes never leaving her face. The room smelled of antiseptic and illness—scents his heightened tiger senses found overwhelming. He focused instead on Molly’s natural fragrance, still detectable beneath the hospital smells: vanilla, cinnamon, and that unique undertone that was purely her .
“Fight, little witch,” he whispered, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Come back to me.”
The knife wound on his forearm throbbed, a reminder of dark magic that refused to heal at his usual shifter pace. He ignored it. Physical pain meant nothing compared to the ache spreading through his chest with each minute Molly remained unconscious.
The door burst open, startling him from his vigil. Celeste rushed in, face flushed with exertion and concern, her eyes wild with worry.
“How is she?” Celeste demanded, moving immediately to Molly’s other side.
“Stable, but unconscious. The doctors are concerned about?—“
Before he could finish, the door opened again. Ellie entered, followed closely by Tabitha and Mari, their pregnant bellies making their entrance slightly awkward but no less determined. Daisy, Sera, and Fia followed close behind, Sera’s triplet pregnancy requiring careful navigation through the doorway. Each woman carried something different—herbs, crystals, small vials of liquid—clutched in determined hands.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Mari explained, her resemblance to Molly striking in the worry etched across her features. She approached the bed, touching her sister’s forehead with gentle fingers. “The doctors are good here, but magic needs magic.”
Luna Nightshade entered next, silver-streaked hair pulled back in a severe bun. She carried an ancient leather bag that emanated power even Warrick could sense.
“Took you long enough,” Luna commented, though her voice held no real reproach. “Fia is parking. Briar’s with her. That gives us nine witches—a perfect circle.”
Warrick stood, uncertain. “The doctors said no visitors except family?—“
“We are family.” Ellie’s quiet statement brooked no argument. “Not by blood, perhaps, but by choice. By magic.”
Luna approached him directly, her penetrating gaze assessing the wound on his arm. “Dark magic,” she diagnosed without touching it. “Sacrificial blade?”
Warrick nodded, surprised. “How did you?—“
“I’ve seen it before.” She opened her bag, extracting a small jar of something green and pungent. “This will draw out the corruption. Apply it after we’re done with Molly. She needs our attention first.”
As if orchestrated, the women moved around Molly’s bed with practiced efficiency. Sera placed crystals at specific points around the room while Daisy arranged fresh herbs in a pattern across the blanket. Tabitha withdrew a small bell from her pocket, ringing it in each corner with soft, deliberate movements.
“What are you doing?” Warrick asked, backing toward the wall to give them space.
“Creating a healing circle,” Ellie explained as she pulled the blinds closed. “We’ll need privacy.”
On cue, the door opened again. Fia and Briar entered, closing it firmly behind them and turning the lock.
“I told the nurses we need twenty minutes of undisturbed time,” Fia announced, moving to join the circle forming around Molly’s bed. “I may have implied I had hospital board connections.”
“Do you?” Warrick asked.
Fia winked. “I will come by tomorrow.”