Spellbound by Fate

The pull of the bond

Janice walked out to her car, trying to forget her disappointment and thinking of the dinner she was planning on cooking that night.

The parking garage was quiet, but as she moved, she noticed spots that looked a lot like blood drops on the concrete. She didn’t think much of it, but they seemed to be getting larger and were heading in the same direction as her.

She paused as the blood spots led straight to her car. She briefly considered turning tail and calling the police, but she should at least know what to tell them when she called.

She took a deep breath before peaking around the car next to hers. She gasped as she saw Lyric propped up against her car, blood dripping from his lip and an open wound on his arm. She dropped her bag in shock and ran to him.

As soon as she reached him, it was like gravity. She put her hand on his cheek, unable to resist the urge to touch him. An electric spark ran through her, and he immediately relaxed at her touch.

The smell of cedar and amber was mixed with the smell of blood, which should have repulsed her, but the cedar and amber broke through the chaos. It was strange that it was so comforting. Like something she had known for a long time without realizing it.

Janice couldn’t help the tear that ran down her cheek. She didn't know why she was such a mess; maybe it was the shock.

One of Lyric’s eyes was swollen, almost shut, and his clothes were torn. He looked as if he had been in a horrible accident or maybe a bad fight.

He turned his head barely in her direction. “I figured you would come out eventually.”

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked, barely able to contain a sob.

A slight smile appeared on his lips. “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

She went back to her bag and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call you an ambulance.”

“No!” he said firmly and grasped at her hands.

“What do you mean, 'no'? You have to get some medical help.”

“No, I can’t go to the hospital. Take me to your place. Please,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Please.” He pleaded, his grip incredibly tight for someone so injured.

She sighed. She knew he had to be mixed up in something illegal to not want to go to the hospital. They would call the police straight away as soon as they saw him. Besides, the thought of strangers swarming him, touching him, asking questions made something sharp twist in her gut.

“Fine,” she said more firmly than she meant to. “You’re coming with me.”

She unlocked her car door. Luckily, she kept towels in the back seat, so Trixie wouldn’t get cat hair all over the passenger's seat when she traveled. They would ensure no blood got on her seats.

She laid the towels down and threw her bag on the back seat. She helped him up as carefully as she could. His legs didn’t seem to be damaged in any way, but she figured his ribs were broken by the way he was bent over. She helped him get into the passenger seat and even had to lift his legs in for him.

She pulled out of the parking garage as normal and headed home, as if there was not a bleeding man in her front seat.

His labored breathing only cemented the belief that he had broken ribs. She didn’t have much medical training. Just basic first aid and CPR training, but she did have quite a library on medicine, and had even practiced stitches on a practice pad. She was sure she could fix him up somehow.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “You were the only person I’ve spoken to in this town. I don’t have any friends or even acquaintances to go to for help. And just being near you helps.”

She looked quizzically at him. “I’m not sure that I know what you mean, but it’s okay. I’ll do what I can for you.”

“No. It's not OK. I know you're probably wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into and worried that I’m going to get you into trouble or something.”

“Well, yes, of course, that’s what I’m thinking. But you must be in some kind of horrible trouble to not be able to go to the hospital.”

“Not so much as you might think,” he said, wincing at each breath. “More like it would be really hard to explain, and I’d rather not take the trouble. And I don’t have the cognitive function through all the pain to make something up.”

“And I don't suppose you are going to tell me what it is that happened.”

“I already told you,” he laughed ironically, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She parked in front of her apartment building, securing one of the rare spaces on the road, which was fortunate considering the issue.

He got out of her car with a towel wrapped around the worst of the wounds on his arms. Janice prayed no one would pay much attention. She lived in a decent part of town and didn't want to mess that up.

She got him into the building with only a couple of people eyeing them. Hopefully, they wouldn’t worry about it or call the authorities.

She locked the deadbolt behind her and turned to see Trixie hissing at Lyric. “Trixie, go.” She said sternly and walked toward the cat. The cat looked questioningly at Janice before turning to walk away slowly.

Lyric looked at the cat with eyebrows raised. “That cat is not normal.”

“Tell me about it,” said Janice. “Come on,” she said, leading him to the kitchen table, sitting him down in a chair.

She went to the bathroom and got her first aid supplies, which were sorely lacking, and then to her home library to find some first aid guides, then returned to the kitchen.

“Alright, first things first. Take off your shirt.”

He did gingerly. The left arm had a deep cut from the shoulder almost to the elbow.

“Do you have any on your legs?” she asked.

“No. Just upper body and ribs, I think.”

Janice set the books on the table and flipped the pages. They were pretty normal stuff, like how to clean and bandage wounds, but it looked like his arm was really going to need some stitches. She opened another book, which was first aid in survival situations such as being lost in the woods and other emergencies. That one did have a guide for stitching and cauterizing.

“You want the worst one first?” she asked.

“No. But it would probably be best. I’ve lost enough blood as it is.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Janice said and went to a cabinet above the stove. She pulled out a bottle of whiskey and put it on the table. “You’re probably going to need this.”