It hurt. Everything. Vica didn't know how she had managed to drag herself as far as she did, but she'd seen deer with arrows pierced through their hearts sprint another several hundred feet before dropping dead on the ground. That was what she felt like, except instead of arrows afflicting the flesh, it was every kind of other pain she could think of.
But at least Constantine was fine, since he seemed perfectly capable of making asinine, lewd remarks right in front of some stranger with no regard to shame. And yet as embarrassed as she had been, blushing fire-red and on the brink of insulting his intelligence, she couldn't deny the sheer relief that had almost wilted her.
She had been so afraid, wondering if she had let Dresden poison him without a fight. But between letting him die by
