The Cambion's Hoard
Chapter 53- Thatcher

Henson's whispers floated out from Rose's room. I knew he wasn't talking to Rose. They must have brought Biggs up finally. Rose's grief washed over me. Moving quicker, I pushed the door open. I couldn't have prepared for what caused her sadness.

Biggs was unrecognizable. He didn't even smell right. His body smelled of antiseptic and blood. Every millimeter of the wound's edge was covered in burnt flesh. That acrid scent lingers on freshly cauterized wounds. Dragons heal better with fire. It promoted cell growth. What was worse were the wound vacs. Their rhythmic thumping filtered in with the air pump and monitors.

I tore my gaze from my brother and looked at Rose. Her carefully maintained curls were frizzy. Her skin gave off an ashen pallor. The wounds on her face and ear puckered against the staples and stitches. They were red and angry. Her scars would be deep. They might even cause her pain.

She looked at me. My mouth dried. Rose's eye was black. The sclera and iris obscured by the blood floating on the surface. I had been worried though that she lost it. Her curls had fallen into her face after Biggs had struck her.

I strode across the room and took her face in my hands. I held her below the marrings. She gripped my wrist and rested the uninjured cheek against my palm. Hovering my fingers and following my brother's marks I went over the moment. I focused on his arm slipping from my grasp. It was after Rose had started calming him. His body had shifted a little. He stopped pulling. I loosened my grip. He slipped.

"Thatcher, stop."

"I should have protected you." My words were pained.

She wrapped me in her arms. Rose needed me and I was the one breaking down. I was a shit mate.

"Thatcher, you didn't do anything wrong. How were we supposed to change that situation? There was so much happening. We all got hurt. Each of us took an assumed risk. I had to help you calm him. If I hadn't he'd be gone."

Henson's chair scraped on the floor. "Let's agree on this one thing. That last night was the most fucked up night we've witnessed. We all suffered physical and emotional damage, and not all of it is in the open. Fuck, Biggs is in a coma. His mental anguish hasn't happened yet."

I reached out my hand to my best friend. He came to me and I embraced him. I hugged him against the bed bringing him closer to Rose. I kissed his scalp below his horn.

"It was. We all have to work on the damage. Together."

A knock from the door broke our embrace. Henson wiped his nose quickly and sat back down beside Biggs.

A thin man came into the room. He bobbed his head. "I am Dr. Caladrius. I was your brother's surgeon and primary healer. I wanted to discuss what happened and the time frame for his healing."

He came into the room further. Downy feathers coated his skin. He eyed the three of us with an apprehensive glare.

His sigh whistled. "He should be dead. Even for a dragon, his blood loss was grotesque. It is an absolute miracle he's alive. We had to carefully cauterize and place his organs inside the body cavity. We were told by the physic that he is intersex. Excuse me was. There is nothing left of the second set of reproductive organs."

Henson stopped breathing for a moment. "Nothing left?"

"I'm afraid not. While Mr. Drake lost a significant amount of blood, it was mainly from the uterus hemorrhaging. It had a more complex blood supply than average. But without the magical intervention, you were able to provide, he would have died."

Dr. Caladrius shifted from one foot to the other. "I was told he did this to himself?"

I nodded my head stiffly. "Yes, he shifted into a pseudo-dragon."

"Another fortunate thing. Mr. Drake's claws left scalpel cuts. They were clean and easy to repair. We will keep him in a medically induced coma until his body has sufficient time to heal. Unfortunately, all of our healers are drained. He will have to heal on his own more often than not.

"Unless you bring in that healer that prevented his death. That was spot-on magic dumping. Pardon the crudeness." Magic users referred to it as transference. Most lay people didn't. Rose hadn't done either. I wasn't sure what to call it. Whatever it ended up being, it drained her.

"She needs time to heal herself." It was hard to say, but I had to put Rose first. She was my mate. My brother would feel the same.

Caladrius turned and looked at Rose. He studied her with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. "Her aura is exceptional. She can do it."

"No, she can't." I stood up from the bed. A growl escaped my throat.

He shook his head. "Then he remains in the coma until his body is sufficiently healed. After that, we'll try and wake him. Once the medications have metabolized in his system, he'll wake up. If his wounds will let him."

"I think you can leave now, Dr. Caladrius. I will call you if I have more in-depth questions." My words hissed and I didn't fight back the smoke.

"Yes. I will check in tomorrow. Let a nurse know if you have concerns." He hurried from the room.

I growled. "What a fucking dick."

Henson leaned back in his chair. "Well, now we only have to deal with the guilt, pain, and sadness."

"Where is he!" A shrill shriek echoed down the hall.

"We have to deal with Gida too." Fuck.

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