I Hate Myself but I Love You

Chapter 3

"I'm fine, Carm." Laura tries to assure me.

She stumbles and I know she isn't. Even though we aren't far from where I'm leading her, I scoop her up in my arms, ignoring her protests, and set her on a dusty recliner that's older than she is.

LaFontaine is beside me in an instant-Laura really didn't get far-and crouches down.

"Do you mind if I take a closer look?" they ask gently.

"'S no problem, LaFonbrain." She snickers and closes her eyes.

They pull a pocket knife out of nowhere and slide her jacket off of her injured shoulder, careful not to touch the metal or cause Laura pain. They use the knife to cut her shirt from the neckline to the hole made by the metal projectile.

"Laura, I want you to keep your eyes open." She peers up at me, squinting and looking exhausted. I breathe a sigh of relief. "Just focus on staying awake. Can you do that for me sweetheart?"

"Sure, cupcake." She giggles.

There must have been something on that metal. Either that or she's delirious after the blood loss and trauma of what's happened this year.

LaFontaine "hmms" from where they're studying Laura's wound.

"Is that a good hmm or a bad hmm?" I run a hand through my hair, frowning as the metallic scent hits me again.

"It's not deep and she's incredibly lucky because it managed to miss every major thing. Toxin tests with my portable lab would be incredibly slow, so you do whatever to figure out what kind of freaky poison we're dealing with."

"The quickest way to do that is by smell." I say slowly.

The ginger nerd nod, understanding flashing across their annoying face. I'm not that easy to read. I'm a creature of the night, a terrifying beast, humans should fear me and I don't have time for this internal monologue.

"And you don't trust your self-control?" I nod. "Get over yourself."

"Excuse me?" I stare at them in confusion. Are they possessed too?

"Get over yourself. This is the girl you love, impaled by an unknown substance possibly covered in poison and you're concerned about whether or not you'll lose control and lick her blood?"

"That's not how-"

"Just do it. Scaredy cat." They mutter that last part and if we were in any other situation I would threaten them with vocabulary so colorful they'd be shitting rainbows in their pants. But Laura's hurt and they're kind of right.

LaFontaine moves away from Laura, who's laughing quietly to herself and whispering "Carm's a cat." Maybe there are drugs on it instead of poison.

I lean in and sniff at the metal still imbedded in her. Oh that is not good.