Chapter 2
1083 Words
Chloe's POV
"I'm sending our routing number to the Darkstars right now!"
I listened to the ecstatic shrieking in my earpiece while staring out the window. "Don't hold your breath," I replied flatly. "Let me sleep on it first. See you tomorrow."
Aside from making bank, my only real thrill in life was cracking medical cases that stumped everyone else.
A contract from Darkstar was exactly my kind of high-stakes play.
The next morning, back at my Echo Park apartment, I did exactly what I expected: I overslept.
Like every other person grinding for a living, I had zero desire to leave my AC and my memory-foam mattress for the sweltering LA heat.
But bills don't pay themselves.
I splashed some water on my face, grabbed my gear, and headed out.
To dodge the soul-crushing Los Angeles gridlock, I hopped on my beat-up, chipped-paint bicycle.
I pedaled leisurely through familiar blocks and buzzing crowds.
In a city where leaving your house usually costs you half your lifespan in traffic, a bike is often more reliable than a pickup. Thirty minutes later, I squeezed the brakes and skidded to a halt in front of the Caesars Palace.
The place was a parking lot for the most expensive luxury cars in the city, and the hotel security staff were sweating through their suits trying to manage the chaos.
Standing there with my rusty bike, I looked like a glitch in the matrix.
Before I could even kick down the stand, a security guard charged at me, waving his arms.
"Hey! Move it, kid! We're closed to the public today. Get that piece of junk away from those cars!"
I kept one foot on the ground, meeting his eyes with a blank stare. "I'm here for the patient."
"You? A doctor?" The guard barked out a laugh like it was the joke of the year. "Look, lady, you're young, but your ego is massive. Beat it."
I stayed quiet for a second, then pulled up the contract confirmation on my phone and shoved it toward him. "Tell the people inside that the Silver Moon Healer is here."
"Healer? Right, and I'm the Pope," he snapped, pushing my phone away. "I've seen a lot of high-end invites today, and none of them involve a cracked smartphone screen. Move, you're blocking the driveway!"
His face did a complete 180 as a pitch-black SUV pulled up.
He practically tripped over himself to open the door, his voice turning oily and sweet. "Mrs. Carrillo, Ms. Marshall, welcome. I'll have chilled whiskey and sparkling water waiting for you inside immediately."
The woman in the back just gave a dismissive wave without looking at him.
As the car rolled past me, the window cracked open an inch, letting out a faint, forest-scented pheromone.
The younger woman inside caught my eye and froze. She recognized me instantly.
I heard an older voice from the shadows of the car ask, "Rita, what is it?"
Rita let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Nothing, Grandma. Just a local."
I looked away, finding the irony almost funny.
The woman who had snatched countless powerful werewolves back from the brink of death was currently being body-blocked by a glorified doorman.
I pulled out my phone, ready to hit "cancel" on the job.
I treat people based on my mood, and if the venue was this toxic, Darkstar could find someone else.
Just as my thumb hovered over the screen, a scream erupted from the crowd.
"Someone call 911! He's collapsed!"
"Oh my god, it's a kid!"
I didn't hesitate. I ditched the bike and cut through the crowd like a knife.
A little boy, maybe three or four, was lying on the pavement. He was drenched in cold sweat, and an unnatural red glow was pulsing beneath his skin.
Someone grabbed a man in a slim-fit navy suit with a name tag pinned to his chest. "Doctor! Help him!"
"I can't. The guardians aren't here, I can't take the liability," the man said, pulling his hands back with a look of pure disgust. "Besides, I don't just treat anyone."
I felt my jaw set. I shoved through the onlookers, my voice cutting through the noise like ice. "Back up! Give him air!"
Maybe my tone was too intense, because the crowd actually shuffled back.
I knelt down and pressed two fingers to the side of the boy's neck.
This was Bloodline Reversal—a specific werewolf pup condition. His body was literally overheating because it couldn't handle the awakening wolf spirit inside him.
I unzipped my bag, revealing rows of dark minerals and long, crystal needles.
"Stop right there!" the man in the suit shouted. "You're not practicing voodoo in front of the Caesars!"
I ignored him, pulling out a shard of deep-blue polar ice crystal. I held it just above the boy's burning forehead, guiding the chill into his system.
"I'm Paul from the D.C. Medical Institute! I was Professor Veronica Carrillo's top student!" Paul's face was twitching with rage. "What are you doing? This is a civilized society. If he dies on your watch, your life is over!"
I could feel the crystal's energy finally starting to soothe the boy's haywire power. I didn't even blink.
"I'm talking to you!" Paul moved to shove me. "I'm calling a real ambulance!"
I let a sliver of my own aura flare. "An ambulance? By the time they clear LA traffic, they'll be picking up a corpse. This kid has less than three minutes."
"You—!" Paul sputtered, his face twisting into a sneer. "This is clearly cardiogenic shock. Get out of the way and let a professional handle it!"
"If you start compressions now, you'll just snap his ribs and send the bone straight through his heart," I said, my voice dangerously low. "Stay back, hack."
"Who are you calling a hack? Do you have any idea how many papers I've published?"
"Zero interest. Move."
Paul turned an ugly shade of green. "Fine. If you actually wake him up with that rock, I'll get on my knees and call you 'Mom' right here in the street."
I tuned him out. A bone-deep chill surged through my fingertips, and the crystal flared with a soft light, forcibly pinning down the frantic wolf spirit inside the boy.
The eerie red glow on the boy's forehead vanished instantly. His long lashes fluttered, he gasped for air, and let out a soft, clear whimper.
The crowd gasped. "My god, he's awake!"
- Writer
